The Greylands: Volume I

by Susan Skylark

Part II:

  Suddenly they were gone; the mare had made to turn only to gallop off faster than the eye could follow. Erian watched after the long vanished pair with interest and said, “swift are the feet of the Pegassi in mortal lands! Come, we had best be off ourselves.” Before he had vanished, the man had pointed out a path only broad enough for a single rider. Neither had noticed it before he spoke but neither were they surprised to see it before them as if it had always been there and they had only failed to notice or could not previously see it.

  “This is no normal path,” said the boy.

  Erian snorted, “this is no ordinary adventure. We do not need to commence on this journey but once we do, your life will never again be the same. By setting foot upon that path we are forsaking everything we hold dear in these Grey Lands to serve the King in whatever manner He thinks best. Personally, I have nothing that holds me to this wretched sphere, but you have friends and family that you may never see again.”

  The boy smiled ruefully, “my friends are nothing more than companions in depravity and my family already thinks me mad, if not dead. I have nothing to lose and certainly everything to gain. I am willing to take this path and meet whatever lies upon it or at its end. I am glad to have such a devoted companion on this dangerous and peculiar way.”

  Erian said quietly, “fear not that you leave all your friends behind.”

  They set forth eagerly upon the strange journey that had been set before them. Erian set a quick pace but one that would not overly tire him. He had found nothing of interest in his nocturnal wanderings but listened with interest as Bryant recounted his encounter with the unicorn. “What do you know of the Messengers?” asked the boy as they rode along.

  Erian snorted, “I have told you all that I know. I ignored the topic in my former life for it pricked my conscious and troubled my pride-fraught mind. We shall have to discover that when we reach our destination.”

  Bryant said, “I do not think we ride any longer through the forgotten lands of the Elven Kings! This is certainly no ordinary path, what do you know of its route, length, and environs?”

  The horse snorted a laugh, “I can sense this is no mortal road, but as to its length and through what lands it wends, I do not know, but I think we will meet things upon it sent to test our will and faith in this matter. We must stay true to the King and our goal no matter how difficult. I think this shall be a long and weary but certainly not a tedious journey ere we reach its end.” The boy nodded his agreement.

  The lands through which they had been riding had been a tangled wood where paths struggled and often failed but this was a well maintained thoroughfare with a seemingly tame wood on either hand. Bryant felt it was a place anything could happen. In reality the path was no path cut by mortal hands, though it wound its way through any and all the lands of men; its course was never the same and unchartable, for none could find it but those who had business upon it and once their business was done or if they strayed from the course, they could not find it again. Bryant noticed many fruitful trees and bushes, an abundance of rushing streams filled with trout, and a plethora of small game; if things continued like this at least it would not be a hungry journey. They pressed on until evening began to fall but chose to end their travels early that day for there had been little sleep the previous night. They chose a small clearing along the edge of the road and made themselves at home.

  Erian nibbled contentedly on the grass and said between mouthfuls, “sweeter grass I have never tasted in mortal lands. This alone was worth the journey!” Bryant laughed and agreed heartily as he tasted of the delectable fruit that abounded in that spot.

  It was a perfect evening and as the stars peeped out the crickets lulled them both to sleep. Morning came damp and early and after an enjoyable breakfast they were upon the road once more. The boy asked, “what does the grass taste like in your homeland?”

  Erian said, “much as it did in the clearing but perhaps a bit sweeter and more crisp. We are still in the Grey Lands, though I think somehow this path touches or somehow hints of a place untainted by sorrow and death.”

  The boy said thoughtfully, “I long to see that land one day, for this is but a shadow and already I think it paradise! I could lay down under a tree and be content never again to stir.”

  Erian laughed, “perhaps that is one of the traps upon this road; some who would not be daunted by sorrow or danger might fall victim to peace, beauty, and indolence. While we may refresh ourselves upon the way let us not fall into that snare!”

  The boy nodded grimly, “I had never thought of things in that way before but I think you are right. Let us be vigilant for other traps that we not fall into them as unwary fools.”

  They rode on for much of the day and in the afternoon came upon a man sitting by the side of the road. They had seen no other thinking creatures or signs of civilization since they had left their guide; they slowed to speak to the fellow, being both curious of the road and its nature and thankful for a moment not to be the only ones upon it. “Well met,” cackled the hunched old man from his seat upon a stone by the roadside, “would you be interested in helping an old man, me lad? I can pay well.” With these words he rummaged in his ragged robe and pulled forth a handful of gold nuggets that sparkled and flashed in the sun.

  Bryant said politely, “what would you have of me sir?”

  The man smiled and said, “I just need a little help with an odd job or two about my house just off the road. Will you come and help an old man? I would even give you food and a bed and the company I am sure you are hungry for, traveling upon this abandoned road as you are.”

  The boy said, “I am sorry sir but I was bidden not to stray from the road by one I dare not disobey.”

  “Bah!” scoffed the old man, “ungrateful and lazy, that is what you are! What is this generation coming too? Wretched child!” He shook his stick at the boy and hobbled off along a small trail leading off into the woods.

  Erian shook his mane, “I cannot say he was the most polite fellow in the world but you did what you had to.”

  The boy sighed, “I just hate abandoning such worthy folk who might need our aid.”

  Erian said, “I wonder how ‘worthy’ the folk are we shall meet upon the way? I know your heart wants to aid those whom you can, but we were bidden not to stray from the path by one who knows the truth of the matter. I cannot see how we would be given that injunction if there were truly those upon the way that could benefit by our aid. I think all will have some nefarious scheme or plot and are set here to test our resolve. Do not feel guilty for what must be done; fear not, for soon enough you shall be rendering aid to all who cannot help themselves, but only if we succeed and that we will not if we stray from our course.” The boy smiled weakly and they returned to their journey.

  As night was falling they came upon a man cutting wood in front of his cottage just off the road. He stopped and wiped sweat from his brow and greeted the travelers saying, “and where are you off to lad?”

  They stopped and Bryant said, “wherever the road takes us sir.”

  The man leaned upon his axe and said, “then be wary of the dangers upon the road. I have seen many come this way with eyes full of eagerness for adventure and danger and I hear many tales of the griefs that have befallen those who are not firm in their course. Some do not even make it this far. There is an old man on the road not far from here who seems innocent enough and asks all who pass by to aid him in some small task in return for a hunk of raw gold. What he does not tell them is that if they follow him from the path they are soon set upon by evil men and made to toil away the rest of their lives as slaves in his gold mine.”

  Bryant exchanged a significant look with Erian and now felt no unease at all for refusing to aid the man. As it was evening and nearly time they settled in for the night, Bryant slid from the saddle to speak more easily with the man. “What can you tell
me of this road?” asked the boy, “is it the same for all who travel upon it? Does it have a set course or does it change? Are we yet in mortal lands or in some strange middle world between the mortal and the eternal?”

  The man laughed, “you are yet in the Grey Lands and the road wends as it will; its course no man can map and none are upon it by accident. Where it ends or begins none know and perhaps it has neither, save for those who reach their destination. There are certain things ever found upon it, such as the old man and myself, but not all travelers encounter the same things. What lies upon your path none but the Master knows. There are forces here for good and evil and some for their own purposes but all have their part in what each traveler must endure. No two journeys are the same. More I cannot tell you.”

  “What is your part in all of this?” asked the boy.

  The man said, “this is where I live and what part I play, even I do not know, for my role is never the same twice. Mostly I just live out my life as any other man serving the weary travelers as I may. I answer their questions and give them encouragement and advice if they would receive it. Is there aught I can do for you?”

  The boy said, “at the moment we are well. Is there any advice or warning you might give us for what might lie further upon our road?”

  The man shook his head, “save for the old man I can give no warnings save that which you already know: if you wish to reach your journey’s end do not stray far from the path.”

  The man’s wife saw they had company and quickly brought out warm water and a towel that the boy might wash the trail dust from his face and hands. Erian revealed himself as something more than a silly horse and the four shared a merry evening before all retired for the night. Bryant slept near the road and was wakened early by their host and his wife who gave him a good breakfast before seeing him on his way. Erian said happily, “it seems that there are more than traps upon this path but we must yet be wary of strangers.” The boy agreed and they rode on.

  For another day and a night they encountered no one but the following morning they came upon a beautiful but tragic sight. In a clearing with a mirror like pool in its midst stood the most beautiful creature Bryant had ever seen, eclipsing even the unicorn in its glory. A mare white as the snow, but glittering with golden fire in the new risen sun, stood on the far edge of the pond and it reflected her glory. This was no mortal horse, for wisdom was in her eyes and two great wings were folded gracefully upon her back or would have been had not one hung limply, dragging in the muddied edge of the pond. Erian seemed dazzled by the scene. “Please,” said a voice, “I am lost and injured and alone with none to help me. I am far from my home. Will you help me?”

  “Who is she?” whispered the boy.

  Erian seemed to reply from a great distance, “one of my own people; visible in all her glory to mortal eye. We must help her.” Bryant sharply jerked the reins as Erian made to move in the direction of the pond; during their travels he rarely touched the reins, usually allowing Erian his head. Erian nearly reared in protest, “what are you doing? She needs our help!”

  Bryant said quietly, “patience and wait. If she wishes she may accompany us but we must not leave our path to aid her.”

  Erian shook himself and started suddenly, as if awakening from some dream. He said to the mare, “fear not my lady, we mean you no harm. What is it you seek?”

  The mare said demurely, “I know the path to my homeland but dare not take it alone for it is dark and filled with danger. Will you not accompany me that I might not be afraid?”

  Erian said, “follow us upon our path and it will lead you home. We cannot veer from our course.”

  The innocence and shyness suddenly vanished from her eyes and wrath boiled in their depths as she screamed, “what know you of the path? Come, it is death upon that way! I shall not follow you but you shall certainly abandon me to die.” Suddenly the monstrous reptilian head of some aquatic monster rose above the face of the pond and made to snap at the pair upon the road, but Erian saw their danger and was gone with all the speed he possessed.

  “A siren!” growled the horse as he ran, “I should have known better. I owe you my life my friend!” They ran on.

  Bryant had been long asleep when he felt Erian gently nudging him awake with his nose. He said quietly to the groggy boy, “quickly hide. I hear voices upon the road.” The boy scurried out of his blankets and hid his gear and himself as quickly and silently as he could in the vegetation along the road. Erian also vanished into the brush. Three men astride horses rode slowly along the road and chatted quietly amongst themselves; the moon was high and gave enough light to see the road well. They spied the clearing and by common agreement dismounted and began making camp.

  Bryant said quietly, “I think we had best see who our visitors are. We cannot remain hidden forever in the woods.” Erian nodded reluctantly. Bryant grasped the hilt of his sword and stepped from under cover.

  The three strangers saw the movement and went for their weapons. One asked sternly, “who goes?”

  Bryant was silent for a moment in shock at recognizing the voice but finally said, “Ephod?”

  The other was silent a moment in return and said in a strangled voice, “Bryant?” Bryant stepped out of the shadows into the light of the moon that they might see him. Ephod gasped, “how can this be? We all thought you dead or worse at the hands of that thing!”

  Bryant said, “I was miraculously rescued before any harm befell me. What are you doing out here upon this strange path and who are your friends?” Ephod was one of his former companions in carousal.

  Ephod said, “after you were taken there was much talk and many rumors flying about the city over what had happened to you and what it might mean. Then an old man with ideas as crazy as yours appeared and the people actually began to listen. Against my better judgment I listened too and later talked with the old fool alone and asked about you and the strange creature and asked if there was no way to defend against such a monster. He said there was but one way, but that it must not be attempted by the selfish or faint of heart. We have set out in search of the answer. My companions are the sons of two of the lesser lords of Ithamar.”

  Bryant was stunned, “you seek to join the Messengers?”

  Ephod laughed, “of course! Why else tread this cursed path? I take it that is why you also walk this road?”

  Bryant nodded, “but I thought you laughed at all I espoused.”

  Ephod did laugh and said, “and still do. I do not understand what that nonsense has to do with the Messengers. I will become one of them and return to Ithamar to defend our people from further assaults by such fiends.”

  Erian said, “you cannot join the Messengers unless you serve the King heart, body, and soul. You must forsake all you hold dear in these Grey Lands and serve the Great King alone. This path may well destroy you if you take it with the wrong motive.”

  Ephod was stunned for a moment by a talking horse but then he had already seen stranger things upon this road and was beginning to believe anything possible. He said, “and what would a horse know in this matter? Be silent beast and let your betters speak.”

  “He speaks truly,” said Bryant.

  Ephod laughed, “we shall see who is right at the end of this trek. Until then let us not quarrel about the details.”

  Bryant asked, “how did you come to find the path?”

  Ephod shrugged, “we talked with the Wanderer for a time and learned what we could then set out to find it. We met a plainly clad man not far outside the city and he pointed us to the path and warned us not to stray from the road for any reason. We can speak more in the morning, I am weary, let us sleep for what remains of the night.”

  All did as suggested and after a breakfast of the ever abundant produce, they mounted and set forth for the day. Ephod asked after Bryant’s adventures and briefly recounted their ow
n, which were few as they had been upon the road but a day. Afterwards Ephod said, “this is certainly a strange place. I hope the reward is worth the trouble! If it is half what is rumored in story I shall be the greatest warrior in all of Ithamar and even your father will have to acknowledge my greatness.”

  Bryant asked, “what tales have you heard of the Messengers? I know very little of what it is I am attempting!”

  Ephod laughed, “your father is not fond of myth and legend so I am not surprised he tried to keep such tales from his children. Much is said in the legends of this warriorfolk who oppose the vilest minions of evil. They are said to ride winged horses, to have swords that shine like the sun, and they do not taste of death, no matter how badly wounded. It is said none can stand against them in battle. Can you imagine being such a warrior?” Erian shook his mane in consternation, knowing the boy for a fool but he dared not speak knowing the boy would only chasten him again and his warnings would fall on deaf ears. Bryant patted his neck in reassurance knowing his friend’s angst. The other boys in the party were mostly silent and let their esteemed leader do most of the talking. They wanted adventure and wanted to be heroes and all the power, glory, and riches attendant thereunto. They cared as little for the King as their fearless leader.

  Ephod said, “this tale of yours as regards the siren and the old man, they disturb me greatly. This shall be a dangerous road if such things are common. Let us take an oath friends to be true to one another and not abandon our cause for lesser things.” The other two agreed vigorously but Bryant was silent. Ephod said, “what is the matter? Do you not care for your friends any longer?”

  Bryant said, “I will do nothing contrary to the will and laws of the King.”

  Ephod sighed and said, “suit yourself but let us see what your stubbornness gains you when trouble befalls us and you have no one to aid you.”

  Bryant said, “I will aid you as I can. I am only saying that if you choose to do something foolish that I do not promise to go down with you into infamy.”

  Ephod laughed, “we shall see who is the foolish one!”

  They kicked their horses to a quicker pace and did not speak again for some hours. They came to a village in the early afternoon and it seemed that some sort of celebration or fair was in progress. Cheerful music filled the air and girls in bright colors flitted about like butterflies in a whirlwind. Everywhere was food and animated chatter and smiling faces. The four boys stopped their horses in the midst of the village through which the road continued on. An important seeming fellow, the Mayor it appeared, approached with a broad grin on his face. He said, “welcome weary travelers. Will you not rest for a time and enjoy the hospitality of our village? We have many delights for weary hearts. Perhaps you will choose to stay permanently as many of your kind have done. You would be the honored guests at our feast this night.”

  Erian snorted as if he smelled something foul and said, “move on my lords, for there is something not right in this place. They look innocent men but there is something dangerous and vile beneath the surface.” Bryant trusted Erian’s judgment and did not hinder him as he moved away. The mayor looked offended and tried to plead with the boys but they followed Bryant without a word. Once they were out of the village they heard what sounded a stampede behind them. They looked over their shoulders and to their horror saw the village gone and all its folk terribly changed and rushing after the travelers like an onrushing flood. The horses needed no urging to run from the charging mass of snarling beasts each bristling with claws, teeth, and horns and no two alike but all covered in a leathery greenish grey hide.

  “What were those!” gasped Ephod.

  Erian said, “I am not sure exactly but some nasty branch of the pixie family that has certainly come under the sway of the Enemy. Goblins I think they would be called by most men.”

  Ephod shuddered, “how did you know them my dear beast? I now apologize for what I said last night. You are no dumb brute.”

  Erian seemed content with the apology and said, “they smelled wrong and my skin crawled, which I can only assume was a byproduct of their foul magics.”

  Bryant asked, “why were you willing to follow us when you doubt my sanity?”

  Ephod laughed, “I do not doubt your sanity, just your tales of this King of yours. You somehow survived your encounter with a Dreadlord and have survived thus far upon this road so I am more apt to trust you than myself in this matter. You are the more experienced captain and may lead until I learn the ways of this Road enough to supplant you.” As evening fell they found a place to camp and spent the evening in quiet conversation. Bryant was silent, for the talk of the others held little interest for him now and they found him quite dull from their own perspective. He wondered that he had ever found such vapid and vain talk interesting and the greatest delight of his day. Ephod asked before they retired to their blankets, “have you become such a boor that you can no longer take joy in your old friends?”

  Bryant said simply, “I am not the man I once was and no longer find joy in what once I did.”

  Ephod shook his head and said, “then I pray I never suffer whatever it is that afflicts you.”

  Erian said quietly in Bryant’s ear, “I think that was a compliment.” Bryant exchanged a grateful grin with his friend and soon fell asleep.

  Morning found a beautiful elf maiden seated on a log at the forest’s edge holding a harp and strumming quietly. The music was soothing but spoke of epic adventure and noble purpose just beyond the edge of sight. The boys were all awake and stared in wonder. She blushed shyly but kept up her music. Erian’s ears flicked back and forth in consternation. Bryant drew his eyes from the maiden and said quietly, “what is it?”

  Erian snorted, “this just minds me of all the other traps we have avoided on this precarious journey. Be careful.”

  Ephod was on his feet and futilely tried to tame his hair before approaching the lady. He bowed politely as he kissed her proffered hand. She smiled coyly and said, “what brings you hither my lords?”

  Ephod smiled broadly, puffed out his chest, and said in a deep voice that sounded fake, “we ride to adventure and fame my lady.”

  She said, “then if heroes you be I have a quest to set before you. My father is a great lord among my people and is in desperate need of hardy young men such as yourselves. If you prove yourselves valiant and noble in this quest he has promised to give one such youth my hand in marriage and he would be heir to my father’s throne.” The three boys exchanged an eager look but then began to contemplate that there were three of them and only one elf maiden. Jealous and angry looks began to fester in their eyes and they fingered their swords.

  “Enough!” said Bryant, “if you wish to continue upon our road let us be off. She is as false as every other deceiver we have met upon the way. If you have not the heart to continue, by all means fall for her lies but let us tarry no longer.”

  A scowl crossed her beautiful face at the intrusion and this unfortunate display of emotion had the effect of breaking her spell upon the others. They drew their hands from their sword hilts and moved away from the woman. No sooner had they turned their backs on her than an evil hag sat in her place. Ephod was nauseous at the thought of kissing that gnarled and warty hand. They were soon in their saddles and riding away with all speed. She cackled and vanished into the woods. Ephod asked of Erian, “what would have happened had we gone with her?”

  Erian said, “one cannot be sure but she probably would have cast some terrible spell upon you if you had not killed each other in a jealous rage.”

  Ephod shook his head, “the renown at the end of this road must certainly be great if so much effort is put forth to hinder our pursuit.”

  They rode on in silence but had not gone far when they found the road blocked by six armed and unfriendly looking men. The hag stood beside the captain’s horse and spoke to him quiet
ly while casting gleeful glances full of malice towards the four boys. The men rode forward with swords bared and the boys reached for their own weapons. The captain said sternly, “put up your weapons and come with us that we might settle this matter. This poor woman claims that one of you young rascals has done her much insult this morning. We are charged with keeping the peace upon this highway and will not have marauders and scoundrels upon it. Drop your weapons or we will use force.”

  Bryant said grimly, “this witch came upon us sleeping peacefully and through her vile craft would have deceived my friends but I gave warning and they wisely heeded my advice. We did nothing to impugn the lady that she has not truthfully done to herself. We have an important errand to be about and must be upon our way.”

  The man growled, “you are strangers here and we will not believe your lies over the words of an upstanding citizen such as she.”

  Bryant said, “what upstanding citizen is in league with the Dark Prince that she might use his power for vile gain at the expense of others?”

  The captain did not waste time on words but raised his sword and spurred his horse towards the boys. As they fell upon their outnumbered foes they passed right through the astonished boys and no injury was given or taken by either side. The hag cackled in delight, “what think you of my ghastly army lads? To think you could have joined them had you but listened to me.”

  “What is she saying?” gasped Bryant to the futile captain who sat his horse beside the boy.

  He said quietly, while glancing nervously at the hag who was taunting the rest of the party, “we fell afoul of her spell and are trapped in her power. We are neither dead nor alive. While she lives or time lasts we are trapped in this ghostly twilight. You did well to stand against her a second time. Those who escape the elf maiden often fall to her representation of force though we cannot harm a living being.” The hag said something in a foul language and the six men and horses vanished; she laughed the louder and vanished herself. The boys exchanged a horrified look and continued on their way.

  They traveled on for several more days but nothing of interest happened and the boys began to grow weary in their vigilance. The way became steeper and narrower; the trees, streams, and abundant food gave way to a land of stunted grass and barren rock. The sun seared overhead by day and the watery moon languished in the freezing night. Their food dwindled and their waterskins ran dry. The horses stumbled in weariness and grew thin on the sparse, coarse grass. Spirits flagged and sank; hope and eagerness waned. “What have you brought us to?” panted one of the lordlings, “I will not remain to die of thirst in this horrible land. I will return to the verdant forests we have just left.”

  Erian said grimly, “you cannot go back. The path back will vanish and leave you alone in this wilderness to truly die alone and parched. Stay the course and we shall find refreshment ere we die.”

  “I will not take advice from a horse!” scowled the youth and turning his horse, vanished the way they had come only to discover Erian had been right.

  The others exchanged a desperate look but pressed on. As night fell they came upon a small pool in the shadow of a great cliff fed by an underground spring. They quenched their thirst and filled their waterskins. The horses grazed gratefully on the vegetation that flourished upon its banks. With higher spirits they continued on and the waste gradually gave way to a great plain of lush grass and swift rivers. They could once more find small game, fish, and edible vegetation; the horses flourished in such a land. The plain soon gave way to the foothills of a great mountain range and as they passed under the shadow of one of those cliffs a great shrieking rent the sky and threw the horses into fits.

  A griffin landed on the path before them and shrieked again. The horses threw their riders and fled. The griffin growled, “you may turn back but you shall not go ahead without paying the toll.”

  “And what is the price,” said Ephod in a quavering voice from the ground.

  The creature yawned widely that they might better appreciate his vicious beak; he smiled hungrily and said, “one must remain that I might do with him as I please. The others may go on.” The three boys and Erian exchanged a horrified look.

  “We cannot go back,” said Bryant firmly.

  Ephod quavered, “I certainly would rather go back than stay with this fiend.”

  The third boy said, “I will not face the fiend’s wrath neither will I wait to see what becomes of those who remain behind.” He leapt to his feet and ran from the path and vanished from sight beyond a far hill.

  “Well?” asked the griffin.

  Bryant sighed, “I suppose I will be the one to stay. Ephod you had best go on.”

  The boy stood shakily and said, “no offense or anything but as long as you are determined to pay the price one of us had better make good use of it.” Without a backwards glance he ran down the road and out of sight.

  The griffin looked to the horse, “and you?”

  The horse said, “I will stay with my friend.”

  The griffin snorted, “at least you have one true friend. I will not part such dear companions.”

  The boy laughed, “you are not going to do something terrible to us?”

  The griffin shrieked a laugh, “if I were going to destroy you I would not have given any of you the chance to flee. An evil griffin is not a reasonable creature.”

  Erian whinnied a laugh, “I thought as much. What will become of the boy who ran ahead?”

  The griffin shook his head, “that I know not. He must face the coming trials alone. They have escaped many traps because of you two but the rest he must face on his own. He can parasitize your sense and courage no longer.”

  Bryant sighed, “what happens if he successfully reaches the end but his heart is not where it should be.”

  The griffin said, “I am not sure but I think he will be denied his desire. Completing the journey is not enough; you must also fervently wish to serve the King. You may go on now. Such is the nature of the road that your path will not cross that of your friend until perhaps the very end, if then.”

  They bid the griffin farewell and continued on their way. In fact they had not much further to go, for two days after their encounter with the griffin they came to the end of the road. The road came to the very edge of a chasm that seemed made of night itself. They could not go on. Erian looked longingly across the Rift at the lands that lay beyond the reach of mortal men and said, “behold the Brightlands.”

  “What now?” asked the boy as he stared in dread at the seeming end of the road.

  Erian said, “I suppose we wait.” And wait they did.

  Ephod ran on until he collapsed breathlessly, determined to go on no matter the cost. One of them had to reach the end. Bryant was a fool, and he felt a small pang of sadness at the thought but at least his foolishness allowed Ephod to accomplish that which his heart most desired. His nights were filled with sleeplessness as all manner of things moved and croaked and shrieked in the darkness. He had little to eat so was always hungry and though there were streams about, they were far between and it was a long, thirsty walk to the next rivulet. He saw all manner of folk who beckoned him off the path with all sorts of noble and infamous quests, promises of fame, wealth, or power but he pressed on doggedly. Finally he came to the end of the road. Exhausted and half starved he collapsed in shock to see Bryant already there. Bryant hastened to the stricken boy and refreshed him with water and what little food he yet had in his saddlebags. “What became of the griffin?” gasped Ephod upon regaining the use of his tongue.

  Bryant smiled, “he meant no harm and after a brief chat allowed us to go on our way.”

  Ephod said, “but you never passed me upon the road.”

  Bryant shrugged, “such is the nature of the path.”

  “Now what?” asked Ephod, “where does the road go?”

  Bryant shrugged
unconcernedly, “the path leads into the Rift thus we are forced to wait.”

  “Wait for what?” asked Ephod regaining his feet.

  “For me,” said a menacing voice. Both boys and Erian looked in horror upon a Dreadlord.

  “This is not what I had expected to find at journey’s end,” said Bryant standing and drawing his sword.

  The fell thing laughed like creaking bones, “what can anyone hope to expect who makes such a futile journey? Now you will not even have the luxury of hope. This time you will die wretch; I had thought the griffin had had his way with you. But it matters not.” He raised his vile sword and Bryant prepared to defend himself; Ephod scurried away to a safe distance and Erian paced in agitation, knowing he could do nothing to oppose the fiend and help his friend. The Dreadlord laughed, “fool! Do you think a mortal blade can do anything to harm me?”

  Bryant stood his ground though the fear emanating from his foe should have driven him to his knees in terror. He said, “it is the only defense I have.”

  The thing laughed scornfully but his mirth was cut short, as was the stroke of his sword, as it was blocked by an unexpected blade. Bryant’s face blossomed in a grin of joy and relief to see the man who had come to his rescue back in the wildlands and set them upon this journey. “The boy is mine by right!” snarled the Dreadlord.

  The plainly clad man said grimly, “he belongs to none but the King and that by his own choosing. You have no claim upon him.”

  The Dreadlord retreated from his foe, not yet admitting defeat but unwilling to face the consequences should the man’s blade find its mark. Content that the fell creature was cowed for the moment, the man approached the three travelers. The Dreadlord watched keenly with his burning eyes.

  “Thank you,” said Bryant quietly; the man smiled deeply and only nodded in answer.

  “I have made it,” said Ephod proudly, “I have suffered much and survived countless traps and trials to be found worthy of that which I seek. Why do we wait here pointlessly on the edge of this abyss?”

  The man said nothing to Ephod’s exclamation, turning to Bryant and Erian he asked, “and what have you two to say of all this?”

  Bryant looked at his feet and said, “I claim to know nothing sir. I set out upon a journey in hopes of reaching its end. Now that it seems to be ended in that I can go no further, I can only hope there is one to show me the way.”

  Erian said, “I concur with my friend. I am as ignorant as he.”

  The man turned to Ephod and said, “what say you of the answers of your friends?”

  The boy shrugged and said, “they are fools and have ever been so. They are certainly not worthy of such an honor.”

  “None are worthy in their own right,” said the man quietly, “only the King’s grace and the Son’s blood make us so.”

  “Fairytales!” laughed Ephod, “fit only for children and imbeciles.”

  The man smiled grimly, “that is why it is said one can only enter the Kingdom with faith as a little child. Your pride makes you an old man; this is not the place for you yet. Go and seek wisdom and humility and then return and we shall see what we can make of you.”

  Ephod’s mouth dropped and the Dreadlord sneered under his helm. Ephod growled, “you dare deny me that for which I have suffered so much?”

  The man said sadly, “your friends did try to tell you but you would not listen. I deny you nothing, you deny the King and therefore you deny yourself serving in His name.”

  “What of him?” scowled Ephod, “certainly he is less worthy even than I.”

  The man said, “he has come faithfully and humbly though he knew not what to expect. He will not be denied. Nor will his dear friend.” Bryant and Erian looked quite stunned though it was for this that they had ever been hoping.

  Ephod sneered, “you would allow a horse such an honor but deny me the same? If that be so then I want none of your so-called honor and glory.”

  The man said quietly, “we have no glory of our own, only the merest reflection of that of our Master. Will you not soften your heart and listen?”

  Ephod drew away from the man and said, “I will never be such a fool!”

  The Dreadlord interjected, “if it is glory and power you seek boy, my master has enough for all. Come away with me and realize all your dreams and more. Do not settle for what these pitiful fools pretend to deny you, for they have nothing to give.”

  Bryant said desperately, “do not be a fool Ephod! He is a liar and a true servant of the Master of Lies. Do not doom your soul and shackle yourself to a living death.”

  “Bah,” scoffed the Dreadlord, “he knows nothing of it. Come with me or rue it forever.”

  “Can you do nothing?” asked the desperate Bryant of the man.

  He shook his head sadly and said, “if he chooses freely to go with the Dreadlord I cannot interfere. Your friend speaks truly lad, do not do such a terrible thing.”

  Ephod smiled maliciously, “if I refuse to go with him will you offer me a place amongst you?”

  The man shook his head sadly, “such is not mine to offer nor can such a heart accept it were it possible.”

  Ephod smiled at the miserable trio disdainfully and walked towards the waiting Dreadlord, who had mounted his abominable beast. “You have chosen wisely,” hissed the Dreadlord, as he reached down and drew the boy into the saddle before him. Without another word they vanished swiftly from sight.

  “What will become of him?” asked Bryant of the grieved man.

  The man sighed and said, “if he does not change his mind by the time they pass the gates of the Infernal Realms he may end a Soldier or even a Dreadlord if it pleases their fell master. If he does recant, he will meet a miserable death. I cannot see it ending well, whatever betide.” He smiled slightly then and said, “your friend has chosen his fate and we shall dwell no more upon it unless we encounter him again. Now what of you? Are you still willing to finish that which you have begun? The warning I gave at our parting still holds. This will not be the last sorrow and grief you must bear in such service, nor are physical pain and other remnants of mortal life spared us. Until we cross the River and enter the Brightlands we shall never be free of such suffering, but there are those who desperately need our aid and no one else can render it. Of course it is not all misery, for we have the boundless hope of the King and his Spirit abides within us to strengthen, guide, and comfort always. There is also much joy in our service. The choice is before you.” The boy went to one knee before the man, who hastily bid him rise, saying, “kneel not before me lad, for I am but a servant of the King just as you. You owe such homage to the King alone.”

  The boy smiled ruefully and said, “my heart desires nothing else.” Erian whinnied his agreement.

  The man smiled deeply once more and said, “then you must drink of the River and immerse yourselves in the shallows. Do not cross it, else you cannot return to mortal lands.”

  They both looked in wonder upon what once to their eyes had been the Rift, but was now a great river flowing swift and deep. Erian said with joy tingeing his voice, “this is again as I once knew it.”

  The man smiled, “your eyes have been opened once more to things long hidden to mortal sight.”

  They approached the River with joy but also trepidation as two toddlers the sea. They exchanged a smile and then drank of its water: their minds and souls were immediately opened to things long hidden from mortal ken. They exchanged a look of pure awe and then plunged beneath the crystal waters. When they emerged they did not immediately recognize one another. Erian reared for joy, spreading his great wings and flinging diamond droplets of water everywhere, glittering in the sun as they fell, again in his proper form, he looked much like the beautiful mare they had encountered upon their odyssey, save taller and more heavily muscled. The travel stained youth stood a man in his prime with joy writ deep in his e
yes, clothed all in white, clad in silver armor with a great sword at his side. They then turned to the man. who was now garbed as the boy. His mare had been standing placidly by, observing the little drama, she whickered a greeting to her kinsman, “welcome home, my brother.”

  Erian snorted, “this would have been far easier had I simply said yes the first time!”

  They all shared a laugh and the man clapped the boy on the back and said, “welcome to the Messengers.”

  The boy smiled and said, “now will you explain to me what it is we do, for no one seems to know?”

  The man laughed heartily and drew him aside to a quiet place that they might speak ay length. The Pegassi followed companionably and relaxed after the manner of their kind. The man smiled as he began, “you have traveled far and endured much for the sake of something you do not understand; that is the determination and faith it takes to serve among us. It is not an easy life, but certainly never dull and of much benefit to our Lord and His thinking creatures. Long ago, before time and everything we call ‘reality,’ the Enemy rebelled and was cast from the presence of the King. Thus has war raged between them until the Last Day, when the villain will be defeated once and for all. Whatever the King does the Enemy opposes: he subverts or destroys it as he can. Thus when the King chose to make the worlds the Enemy was there to turn it to his advantage. Now he could not touch anything the Master had made and destroy it himself but he could tempt, lie, nudge, and hint, hoping the thing might destroy itself. And that is what happened. Believing the Enemy over their own Lord, the progenitors of men rebelled and were cast out of paradise, as did others of various race after them. Such rebels and their tainted descendants now dwell in the Grey Lands: the fallen sphere of creation where death and sorrow attend all the aspirations of men. There the Dark Lord can roam among them and have what influence he will, but neither has the King abandoned His rebellious children. The servants of the Dark Prince are abroad upon the earth but so are the servants of the King.

  Many hundreds of years ago the King’s own Son was sent to pay the price to redeem fallen creation though it was a debt He did not owe. The price paid, all thinking creatures have only to turn to Him to save themselves from the dark and dangerous world in which they dwell. The Enemy had thought he had had quite the victory when the ignorant and rebellious folk of the Grey Lands killed the very Son of the King, but death could not hold Him and He lives once more and has broken the iron grip of the Villain upon creation, if only we would seek the remedy instead of lingering in our disease. While each soul must choose for itself whether to accept or deny their True King, the servants of the Enemy go abroad wreaking havoc and death wherever it pleases their master. We are those who choose to oppose them, that their destruction might be minimized, leaving mortal souls in peace to decide as they will. Wherever the forces of darkness and evil are gathered, there are we sent to give what aid we may. They cannot be killed, for such things are beyond death, but we can banish them back beyond the Dark Mountains and there their master does with them as he pleases, whether to renew them to wreak havoc once more or to banish them to the Abyss and start anew with another vile servant. Seven of the Dreadlords are ever abroad and causing trouble and under each an unknown number of nearly mindless Soldiers serve. The Soldiers can hardly think for themselves but their numbers give them strength and the Dreadlords give them direction.”

  He continued, “they can fight without need of guidance and if they are told to guard a road they will, but they are not wise enough to imagine that someone might sneak around and take the needful precautions. The riding beasts of the Dreadlords are even worse, being not living (or once living creatures) but simply a collection of bones, sinew, and hide animated by the will of its rider. The horses of the Soldiers are as mindless as their master: once mortal beasts, they have been corrupted just as their riders. The Dreadlords can control them as well. If you find yourself facing such a force, if you can vanquish the Dreadlord, his Soldiers will fall into disarray and then can be easily dispatched, but they know this and send the Soldiers to the fore and only after they have been dealt with do they themselves confront us. Your sword is highly effective against such fiends but will not deal mortals an injurious blow, the stroke may perhaps sting but it renders them no permanent harm. Mortal weapons cannot touch us; the weapons of the Soldiers burn as if fresh from the forge but render no harm. The weapons of the Dreadlords also burn only worse, and if they strike a mortal blow send us back to the River from whence we must set out again.”

  The boy asked, “can they kill us?”

  The man said, “they can cause us much pain or banish us back to the River but none can die who have drunk of the River of Life. If ever you grow weary of battle and sorrow seek once more the River, cross over it into the Brightlands, and find rest but know that in so doing you cannot return to continue the fight until the Last Day.”

  The boy asked, “so we are something immortal dwelling yet in mortal lands?”

  The man smiled, “I think you begin to understand. All souls are immortal, most just do not yet realize it. Once made, a soul is never destroyed and where eternity is lived depends upon what the creature chooses to do with the King. Rebels are cast forever across the Mountains of Night, never to return.”

  The boy nodded grimly and then asked, “what is the sorrow you speak of? The physical pain I understand, but what is this great grief?”

  The man said, “we roam yet in lands where death and sorrow linger and thus drink of that cup ourselves. There will be times of great trial and at other times you will not triumph or things will go badly for those you were sent to defend, or you will witness things to grieve the heart, most especially souls that refuse to accept the King. It is of this I speak. If things go ill, do not despair for it is the way of the world; one day all will be made right. But do what you can and remain faithful to Him who sent you. The greatest danger we face is that of falling away. In a mortal such a shortcoming can yet be remedied but you have tasted of the Water and therefore if you turn aside there is no returning. No matter what you endure or witness you must not lose hope and deny your Master else all is lost.”

  The boy’s eyes were wide at this revelation but he asked, “what then is our relation to living men and other thinking creatures?”

  The man said, “you will appear to them as I appeared to you when first we met; they cannot see you as you truly are even as you could not see the River. You may walk among them and interact with them and often must in the course of your service to the King, but we are no longer mortal ourselves thus we need neither food, water, nor rest but it also means that such things as marriage and other serious human commitments, such as ruling a country, are forbidden to us. You are ever a servant of the King and always a nomad and wanderer, thus you cannot build lasting relationships or settle down among them. Their weapons cannot harm us and neither can their prisons and ropes bind us. If so troubled, all you need do is will yourself free of your bonds and you can pass through walls or ropes like sunshine through a window. The elves and other naturally undying races are slightly different. Their weapons can render pain, a slight irritation as compared to that inflicted by the weapons of the Enemy but still noticeable. Such folk see us for what we are and wish no trouble with us or with the Enemy’s servants, wishing only to be left to themselves. They for the most part ignore us, but occasionally we have business among them, much to their irritation. Those who are willingly in service to evil, such as the goblins and the various hags and sorcerers, can fall to our blades but all others are affected as other mortals by our weapons.”

  This reminded the boy of something he had seen upon the Road and he asked, “upon my journey hither we encountered a hag who had entrapped several young men in her witchery. Is there no way to rescue them?”

  The man said quietly, “they were warned before starting the journey and failed to heed that warning, earning for themselves the
affliction which you witnessed. One day they shall be freed as shall all others in bondage, but it is not for us to know the time or the means. Your duty is to focus on that which is set before you. You cannot go venturing forth alone on various crusades else you will be seen as a rebel and cast aside.” The boy shuddered and nodded grimly.

  The man smiled slightly and said, “I am not trying to terrify you, simply to acquaint you with what it is to be in service to the Messengers. You must not turn aside from the quest set before you, such was the true test of the Road. Having passed through that ordeal all else should be relatively simple.”

  The boy smiled and asked, “how many of us are there? Do we ride together or alone?”

  The man laughed warmly, “the first I cannot answer but there are enough of us. We usually ride alone, but occasionally there are times we ride together on certain missions, but you are never truly alone, for we are seldom parted from the Pegassi with which we are paired and even then the King is ever with us.”

  The boy laughed for joy and asked, “tell me more of the Pegassi.”

  The man said, “they are a free and noble folk who dwell in the Blessed Mountains upon the very rim of the Brightlands and are the one folk that have not rebelled against the King, save for an individual or two in all their history. They only cross the River if cast out in rebellion or called to serve with the Messengers. They serve as our wings but more importantly as our companions and guides. Trust well to their advice for they can sense things to which we ourselves might well be blind. Trust also their guidance for they are wise in all the ways of the King and know much of the fallen world and the Enemy. If you doubt your path trust in their sure feet and you will not be led astray. They give company in loneliness and encouragement in despair. But for them, we could not be half so effective in what we are sent to do. They are swift of foot and can cross an entire continent in one great leap. Unlike us, they cannot be touched by any weapon of the Enemy or mankind.”

  Erian asked, “why is it that all other folk who chose to rebel and cross the River did not suffer a loss of skills and physical form as severely as I when I was exiled? I was little more than a common horse able to think for itself.”

  The man said, “all who cross the River in rebellion suffer greatly for their sins. All lose the close communion once held with the King, for sin sunders us thus, but the effects upon physical form, native talent, and individual souls and minds varies with race and form of rebellion. The Fairyfolk chose to leave, whereas you and mankind willingly rebelled and were cast out of paradise. The former suffered little loss in physical form or native talents but lost much in the areas of heart, soul, and mind. The latter showed much more effect in all areas. While a unicorn on this side of the River may look much the same as a unicorn on the untainted side of the River, they are far from similar. The former is a rebellious, stubborn, selfish, and small minded creature while the latter is everything wise, noble, selfless, and great of heart. A mortal unicorn is something altogether tragic if you have seen what they were truly meant to be. So are we all fallen.” The mare made an indignant noise. The man smiled and laughed, “forgive me Sebiki, you have never suffered such a denigration.” She seemed placated and returned to her former state of patient bliss.

  The boy asked, “what is it we do exactly?”

  The man smiled, “that is an excellent question and I can give but poor answer. We do many things but nothing I can sum up in few words. Our main duty is to oppose the Dreadlords and other servants of the Enemy, but we are often set various other strange and diverse tasks be it giving warning to an obstinate people, opposing other evils in the world, rescuing someone from the powers of darkness, aiding those who seek to join us, advising those who might otherwise go astray, and many other things.”

  The boy smiled, “at least I will not get bored.”

  The man laughed, “no lad, that you never will.” He continued, “the one other thing I should tell you is that time passes strangely for us. A year may last a year, a day, or you may skip it altogether, depending on where and when you are needed.”

  The boy asked, “how do I know what my next mission will be? Is there someone we report to?”

  The man shook his head, “sometimes we are sent to advise or speak with one another but usually you know already that which you must and if you do not your Pegassi will.” The boy looked rather confused and the man smiled saying, “it sounds strange but soon it will be the most natural thing in the world. For your first assignment we shall ride together, that you may experience firsthand that of which I have been speaking. I am called Garren. Have you any further questions?”

  The boy thought for a moment and seemed troubled as he said, “is there no hope for Ephod and all those like him?”

  Garren said sadly, “once a man has perished without the King or chooses to follow the Evil One willingly and thus passes the gates of the Infernal Realm, there is no more chance that he may repent of that which he has chosen willingly. So too if one has rebelled against the King or was born into such rebellion and finds Him, thus turning from darkness and one day tastes of the River but then turns aside, he cannot go back. A mortal man may flirt with the idea of serving the King, toss it aside, and take it up again if he so chooses. You shall certainly be grieved by and mourn for those who choose such folly and destruction, but you must not lose hope because of it. It was of their own choosing and the King will not trespass upon that choice, for it was His gift to them that they had such a choice, else we would be naught but mindless slaves rather than children and heirs of our Great Lord.”

  He rose then and the boy followed suit. Bryant noticed Erian now wore neither bridle nor saddle but to mortal eyes it would appear that he did. He would know Bryant’s mind in where they must go and also know himself, that which needed to be done. Garren mounted and Erian eyed the boy in amusement, as he seemed nervous to dare such a thing. Erian shook his head in amusement and consternation, “you have done this a thousand times before, why now are you so shy? Forget how I look and remember that I am yet he that has borne you times beyond count. And now you shall not be any burden at all, for your weight is but that of a feather or a breathe of air.”

  Bryant could not help but smile as an eager joy kindled in his eyes, and he leapt easily onto the great back. The stallion was much taller than he remembered and he felt helpless without rein or stirrup, though he had rarely had to use the former. He soon adjusted however and forgot his former need for such things, for now he had no fear of falling. The Pegassi reared their joy to again be abroad, for they were born to run and run they did: swifter than thought. The boy had never felt such joy or exhilaration. He seemed to be sitting still while the world blurred past him. Forests, mountains, swamps, plains, and whole countries passed like leaves in the wind. And when the great creatures stopped they were neither sweaty, blowing hard, nor even weary. Erian laughed, “it is good to be free once more. I felt a snail, trapped as I was in mortal form.”

  The world quit spinning in a land far less pleasant than their former habitations. The wind blew hot and dry, and though the sun was a pallid and watery disc in the sky it still scorched like an oven. It seemed that water had never existed in this place; there was no vegetation, only jagged rocks and dust as far as the eye could see. To the south towered peaks of immense height that seemed to take in all light but never gave off heat.

  “The Mountains of Night or the Cursed Peaks or a thousand other names they bear but beyond them lies the Infernal Realm. Upon their stark face dwell all manner of loathsome and vile things that delight in evil and cruelty. Some claim the Dark Prince as lord, others care little for such things but are no less deplorable. The sun’s light never reaches the far side nor do they themselves cast a shadow, but all that lies within sight of those terrible mountains is waste and sere. It burns by day and freezes by night. No stars shine here, only a wan, hopeless moon. But compar
ed to conditions on the other side of the peaks this is a veritable paradise.”

  Bryant shuddered to think what might lurk on the other side of the mountains. He felt the heat but it was not a bother to him, though to mortals caught in those environs it would have been oppressive. “Why are we here?” asked the boy.

  Garren said, “the minions of the Enemy often patrol along this road and we are here that you might learn their ways.”

  The boy paled, “is it not a bit presumptuous to engage them in battle when there is not a need?”

  Garren said seriously, “perhaps we are not making a difference to innocents in this affair but you have a need to learn how to engage such creatures and doing it here will keep others from being injured by your naiveté in a situation that truly matters.”

  The boy smiled, “I can learn here without risking others. It is probably a good thing to know what I am doing before I attempt anything actually important.”

  Garren smiled, “I am glad you take my point. Prepare yourself, for our enemies are at hand.”

  Six Soldiers came along the road out of the west, man and horse alike resembled their mortal form but were withered and wasted to nothing but skin drawn taught over rotting bone. Their armor was of chainmail and leather whereas the Dreadlords wore platemail from head to toe. Soldiers were not all that smart but they knew enough to attack two strangers upon the road. They drew their swords as their fell mounts increased their pace for the charge. Such wailing and moaning Bryant had never heard and he thought these must be their attempt at yells of rage and war. The Pegassi reared and screamed their own challenge and ran to meet their foes. Bryant had been trained in the arts of war along with all his royal siblings but he had never faced a man in battle. He felt that had he known nothing of the sword he would still have had the necessary skill. He fought as an old campaigner, well used to the rigors of war; Erian moved with such skill that they might have been a centaur: a creature of one mind rather than mount and rider of two separate minds. Where the Soldiers’ blades pierced him they burned as Garren had warned. At first he flinched back in pain but soon overcame the irritation and waded full into the fray. Their blades could do little but pain him, however Bryant’s blade reduced them to a pile of ash and charred bone if he dealt a mortal blow. The horrid horses stood and stared vacantly when their riders fell, suddenly becoming gruesome statues.

  The Soldiers vanquished, Bryant turned to Garren seeking further direction. “You did well lad,” said Garren, “now we will seek out a Dreadlord for you to practice on. Remember, they do not fall so easily and their blades are as deadly to us as ours are to them.”

  “What of these wretched beasts?” asked the boy.

  Garren looked upon the frozen horses and said, “come night they will fall to pieces; once their masters are gone they have no more life in them.”

  Erian snorted, “I think I am beginning to enjoy this.”

  Garren laughed, “it was for this that you were made my friend. Come, we have more to teach your friend.”

  They galloped off into the blistering day and upon halting, found themselves behind a cluster of great boulders looking upon a grim sight. “Behold the gates of the Infernal Realms,” said Garren quietly, “they are never guarded, for the Enemy fears no attack and knows all who enter willingly come under his dominion. We and all those who serve the King cannot pass those gates unless we willingly choose such a fate. Living mortals also cannot pass them unwillingly. Once death comes upon them, those who have refused the King have no choice but to enter.”

  Bryant asked, “what of those taken captive by the Dreadlords and other minions of evil? What would have come of me had the Dreadlord brought me to this place?”

  Garren gazed off to one side of the hulking gate and Bryant’s eyes followed. Built into the cold flesh of the mountainside was a sort of fortress or prison. Soldiers could be seen upon the walls and at the gates. Garren said quietly, “that is where all such captives go; it is in that cruel place that they endure much torment in hopes that they might refuse the King and turn to the Enemy. Else they meet a slow and terrible death.”

  Bryant said quietly, “I think I would prefer a slow death to what the Enemy has to offer.”

  Garren said grimly, “a truer word was never spoken.”

  The boy shuddered to think what might have come of him in such a place. He turned to Garren and asked, “are the prisoners completely forsaken and alone?”

  Garren said, “do you ask why we do not break down the door and set them free?” The boy nodded. Garren said, “we are sent to aid many but terrible things still happen in this world: the result of rebellion against the King. We are not sent to make the world a place where all men are free and safe but to do that which we must to check the Enemy in his plots and see that men have the chance to seek the King. All such suffering and death is needless and would have been avoided had some not chosen to rebel and thus are they sundered from the good with which the King had planned to bless them. It is a difficult concept for many that a just and loving King could allow such suffering in the world, but it is in such sorrow that men often return to their Maker. He did not intend it to be this way, but so have we chosen and thus must we endure, but that is not to say He cannot use it for the benefit of His people. One day all such pain, grief, and death will forever be overthrown and cast aside and things will be as they were meant to be. But for now and as long as time lasts things are as they are. There are many things you will yearn to do to end suffering or make things right, but there are some things that must be as they must be and it is not for us to interfere. Attend to that which you are assigned, grieve as you must, but do not step outside the bounds set upon us.”

  “How will I know what is overreaching?” asked the boy.

  Garren said, “you will know.” The boy nodded, not understanding but trusting fully in his Lord and his friends. As they watched, the gates opened and a Dreadlord, leading a dozen Soldiers, rode out into the growing shadows of evening, intent on some mischief. Garren said quietly, “we will follow them at a distance and once we are out of sight of the gates we will set upon them. We dare not take them in view of the gates lest reinforcements should be sent forth.”

  The boy nodded and set himself for battle though they might not engage their foes for some time yet. The fell company rode north at a dizzying speed to all but the Pegassi. Soon they were well beyond sight of the gates and the Messengers fell upon their foes from behind. The Dreadlord turned his mount sharply when he heard the sounds of battle amongst his minions. He drew back from the melee and watched with irritation; this was not something he enjoyed but such bothers were part of the job. The Messengers were forever meddling in the affairs of the Dark Prince and there was little that could be done to end their bother. Only three Soldiers remained and Garren had their attention. He urged the boy to take on the Dreadlord. The boy was terrified after his previous encounter with such a foe but was determined not to disappoint Garren or their Master.

  Erian was not cowed in the least though mortal horses would have been long fled if they did not simply die outright from fear. The Dreadlord was the same the boy had met before and he laughed scornfully when he recognized his foe, “will you never quit boy? Just lie down and die and do us all a favor. You were not made for such folly!” He was rather miffed to realize that this was simply a training exercise for the neophyte Messenger; he was certainly a more worthy foe than a mere practice dummy for this pathetic wretch! They met and exchanged furious blows. Bryant felt the cruel sting of the Dreadlord’s blade, far fiercer than the pain inflicted by a Soldier’s lesser blade. For a few minutes their mounts circled, pushed, and reared, while their riders fought desperately. Finally the Dreadlord’s blade pierced Bryant’s chest. The pain was excruciating and then the light consumed him and he knew nothing more.

  He came to himself slowly and it took him a moment to realize
where he was and why. He lay on the bank of the River and the water lapped at his feet as he shakily stood. Erian was there as if patiently waiting and gave him an amused smile though he was greatly relieved to see his friend once more. It had not been a pleasant feeling to suddenly lose the boy whose safety was his responsibility. Garren was not long in coming, after finishing with their remaining enemies. The boy looked up sheepishly. Garren smiled warmly and said, “this will be the first of many times that you will find yourself thus lad. Do not be discouraged or disheartened for it is part of the endless battle we fight against the Evil One. Pick yourself up and return to the fight. You will defeat him next time or perhaps the time after that.”

  Bryant smiled his thanks and mounted Erian once more. Garren said, “now with that messy business behind us, I think we should probably send you off to do something useful. You do not yet know everything but you know much and the rest will come with experience. The Road lies before you.” Bryant was eager to be off on his own adventures but not yet ready to part from his new friends. Garren smiled, “we shall meet again lad. Do not worry, we have all eternity to spend together should we wish it, but for now we each have our duties to be about. Farewell!” Sebiki made as if to take a step and in the blink of an eye they had vanished beyond the distant horizon.

  Bryant asked of Erian, “the Road?”

  Erian said patiently, “yes, it is the same path that led us here. Mortals can take it only as far as it will lead them but we may travel hither and thither upon it, for it will take us where we will and sometimes we even have business upon it.”

  “What have we to do?” asked Bryant, though he thought he knew the answer.

  Erian whickered a laugh and said, “do you not know? It is a quest that perhaps you set yourself. You asked Garren about it not long ago.”

  Bryant smiled, “it is as I thought but I just wanted to be sure. I have much yet to learn.”

  Erian laughed, “it will not be long before all comes easily my friend.”

  They rode along for a day or a year or a moment but however long it was they soon arrived in the place desired: the very spot they themselves had slept that fateful night another weary traveler had now taken shelter. The sun was rising and a pleasant music filled the air but to the ears of Bryant it had a strident tone as of the gnashing of teeth. The elf maiden sat in her accustomed place but Bryant could see full well the vile hag beneath the fair façade. Only then did she look up and notice Bryant and Erian on the far side of the glade. She shrieked like a fiend afire and woke the slumbering traveler. He scurried out of his blankets, saw the distressed elf maiden and then turned to see an armed man at his back that must be threatening the beauty before him. He reached for his sword but the stranger paid him no heed. Bryant focused all his attention on the hag, saying in a stern voice, “release those you hold captive and your life will be spared, witch.”

  She scoffed in a cracking voice, quite unbecoming to such a fair face, “they are mine by right. I caught them, I shall keep them.”

  Bryant said firmly, “the appointed time of their captivity is ended. Release them freely or you shall die upon my blade and then they shall be loosed regardless. What is your decision?”

  She cackled cruelly and said, “why not ask them yourself?” Suddenly the clearing was filled with over a dozen armed men and horses all jostling for position. The traveler had had enough of the insanity suddenly loose in the cleaing and scurried off down the road. The men had previously been unable to touch mortal flesh; Bryant wondered what effect they could have upon him now. “Kill him fools!” shouted the witch. They looked in terror at the witch but trembled when they looked upon Bryant and Erian. Those closest to him drew back as if he carried plague. “Kill him or I will destroy you all!” shrieked the witch. They held their place, more terrified of Bryant than of the hag. They moved quickly aside as Erian made to move through them.

  Bryant held his sword to the hag’s throat and said one last time, “loose them or my blade will.”

  The hag sighed heavily, said something in a vile language, and suddenly vanished. The men and horses in the clearing were utterly silent in shock and then there was much hugging and rejoicing among them as they realized they were finally free. Some had been so trapped for years. They then turned to their rescuer with one accord. Their former captain rode forth and said to Bryant, “we wish to thank you for our lives. What shall come of us now?”

  Bryant smiled and said, “continue upon the Road and follow it to its end if that is yet your wish, but this time be more wary of the traps that might yet await you.” The captain smiled, turned to his men, they all nodded their agreement, and they set off with hearts light and joyful for the first time in long remembrance.

  Alone once more in the clearing, Erian said, “that went quite well, though I doubt all our adventures shall turn out to be that easy. You seem to be getting the hang of things. It is a pity you did not kill the hag though.”

  Bryant shrugged, “I had to give her the choice and she chose wisely, at least in this matter. I am sure she will continue to haunt the Road but at least those poor souls are free. She will face justice one day but for now she remains loose upon the world. Actually, I had no idea what I was doing until I did it but it felt natural enough. What now?”

  Erian lazily flicked his tail and said, “we must be off to our next adventure of course.”

  They rode swiftly down the path, so quickly in fact that no one they passed saw them or knew they had been save for perhaps a sudden breath of wind upon their face. The road brought them quickly to the lands Bryant knew well, for they had returned to Ithamar. Once upon a mortal thoroughfare, they assumed a more natural speed and rode along simply as a plainly clad man on a common sort of horse; no one would have noticed them in passing and been able to remark them to anyone if asked. “I think it a bit odd,” said Bryant as they approached the capital city, “that I should be sent home.”

  Erian snorted in amusement, “there is much odd, at least by your former standard of thinking, in your current occupation. I would get used to it, for I doubt things will ever quite be as you would have formerly expected. I suppose you could always cross the River and then you need not worry about this sort of thing.” Bryant gave him a scandalized look for such a suggestion; Erian frisked a bit in amusement. They continued silently on their way.

  They passed unremarked through the gates of the city, for the guards cared little for yet another plainly dressed commoner riding into the city. They stopped at an unremarkable inn, neither seemed surprised though it had not been Bryant’s first idea upon entering the city. He had thought briefly about riding to the palace to speak with his parents but this seemed the wiser course of action, at least for the moment. Bryant was loath to leave his friend standing about outside doing nothing but Erian gave him such an incredulous look (quite a startling look from an equine visage) that he quickly made his way into the inn and found a place in the common room. He glanced around at the gathered citizenry but there were few within yet, for it was early in the day. Evening would see every chair filled however. He wondered quietly how long it had been since he left home, what they thought had come of him, how the Wanderer had faired in his quest, whether either of the young lordlings that had accompanied Ephod had ever returned, and what they thought of Ephod’s disappearance. He wondered what he was here for but also knew all he had to do was wait.

  He did not wait long before an old man with a significant limp wandered into the inn, glanced around at the sparse patrons, and traipsed over to plop himself down at Bryant’s small table. Bryant did not know the man but felt towards him as he might towards a favorite brother. The old man eyed the youth curiously and after a thorough inspection said, “you are a bit younger than I had expected but then who should expect anything in this line of work? I am called Hayden.”

  “Who are you?” asked the boy.

&n
bsp; “I already told you,” said the man. He paused and waited for some reply but the boy was no more forthcoming so the man continued, “you are a stranger here, I suppose?”

  The boy smiled wryly, “it has been some time since I was last in Ithamar. What has passed here since the King’s exiled son returned and than vanished once more?”

  The stranger cocked an eyebrow and said, “you have been gone five years then? Why did you not simply say so?”

  The boy laughed, “I have completely lost track of time, or perhaps it has lost track of me?”

  The man shook his head, not understanding how five years could simply pass someone by or the last part of that statement or why the boy found it so amusing, but he said, “as you are probably aware, the lad returned from his brief exile with some rather funny ideas, at least as the locals saw things. His father forgave him and then the lad went about town causing quite a scandal with those ideas of his. No one seemed to listen and he was thought an embarrassment and a laughingstock by most. Of course no one takes a local kid seriously when he starts saying something important. His speaking career was cut short when a Dreadlord carried the boy away. Most thought it was all he deserved but the presence of such a thing started them thinking that perhaps there was more to life than what they had previously thought.”

  He continued, “then along came an old man with a limp with a head full of similar ideas and finally people start listening and thinking and considering things they had laughed at only a week ago. The man did ease the hearts of the bereaved parents in that he could honestly say the kid had escaped the Dreadlord and was alive somewhere in the world. Since then we have heard nothing of him. Shortly after the old sage arrived some of the local lords’ sons started asking questions about Dreadlords and the terrible things away south. Three of them set off to do something about it. One of them returned with terrible tales about some perilous journey he had endured and the last he saw of the King’s missing son had been right before a griffin devoured him. The other two lordlings did not return with him and were thought dead until one returned not a week ago. The boy returned but quite changed. Folk shy away from him as they would from an open grave. He radiates evil and fear, as if he bathes in them. He returned to his father, who was a rather important lord of Ithamar, and the poor man and his eldest son died not three days after Ephod returned thus making the vile boy the new lord in his father’s stead. The boy is now putting pressure on the King and I am not sure how long his Majesty can withstand him, for some of the lesser lords are adding their support to that of this vile new lord.”

  Bryant’s eyes were wide, “I did not think to see Ephod again! He is quite human?”

  The Wanderer eyed the boy strangely and said, “what else would he be? He is quite human in form but there is some quality about his voice, movements, and mannerisms that seems quite the contrary, though he looks a man.”

  Bryant’s eyes narrowed, “what then has come of him? I saw him ride off willingly with a Dreadlord, intent on gaining whatever power he could.”

  The Wanderer said, “that might explain everything about him then. He is probably a Spy.”

  Bryant asked, “a Spy?”

  The man gave him a curious look and said, “the Enemy is rumored to have many servants abroad that blend in with mortal men at all levels of society and in all lands, but they are not quite human any longer. They have given themselves fully over to the Enemy and report all they see to him and also engage in whatever nefarious activities they can for his benefit. Some are said to actually rule in the southern countries. If such should gain the throne of Ithamar it could drastically shift the balance of power in the middle kingdoms. The middle kingdoms have been historically stubborn about accepting anything as truth that deals with the Great King and his Son. They consider the Infernal Realm, the Enemy, and all his minions to be nothing but myth; they think the same of the King and the Brightlands. Of late, Ithamar has finally shown some promise in actually accepting the truth of the King. If we can gain Ithamar for the King, it may shift the neighboring Kingdoms into a more favorable position to do likewise but if this Spy gains the throne instead, he could gain the Enemy a firm foothold in the middle kingdoms that he has never had. The King has turned a blind eye to those who wish to serve the King until now, but this vile new lord is urging him to do otherwise. It soon may not be safe to speak of the King in public. That is why I came to find you.”

  The boy grinned, “it is good to know why I am here.”

  The man gave him a scandalized look, “you do not know why you are here?”

  The boy shrugged, “I do now. What exactly were you looking for?”

  The man smiled wryly, “I was not sure myself, I only knew I should come to this inn and seek the help we so desperately need.”

  Just then another man came into the inn, briefly scanned the patrons, and seated himself at the table next to Hayden. The man welcomed the boy, who froze when he recognized the old man’s companion. “Bryant?” gasped the young man, “where have you been? It seems all we ever hear are rumors of your impending doom or certain death but each time you appear once more to gainsay them.”

  The old man nodded, “that explains much then. So you are the chronically vanished son of the King then?”

  Bryant smiled sheepishly, “that I am. What of you Warde?”

  The boy said quietly, “when you returned from exile I was heartened to have my old companion in diversion back, but the boy I knew seemingly perished somewhere in the wilderness and someone quite different had returned in his guise. I listened to the things you said and outwardly called you mad, but in my heart I wondered how anyone could believe anything so passionately that they were willing to suffer such humiliation on its behalf. Then that thing appeared and carried you away and I really began to wonder if there was not more to life and if you might perhaps be right. Thankfully Hayden arrived not long after you vanished and to him I gave an open ear and more importantly an open heart. I am finally convinced of what you both had to say and he has kindly taken me on as his apprentice.”

  The old man muttered something about needing someone to do his laundry but seemed quite pleased with the boy’s speech. “What of you Bryant? One of Ephod’s companions returned with the wildest tales, can they be true? Ephod is also returned but not as we once knew him.”

  Bryant said, “I do not know what the boy has told you but we certainly experienced many strange things upon that Road. He ran off when a griffin threatened to block our path; the creature turned out to be quite harmless and let me pass unhindered after Ephod ran off and abandoned me to the creature’s seeming lack of mercy. We reached the end of the Road where we encountered a Dreadlord. A Messenger chased the thing off for a time and confronted Ephod and myself. Ephod wished to join the Messengers but refused to bend knee to the King thus was he denied his goal. The Dreadlord offered him the power he had been refused by the Messenger and they rode off together and I have not seen him since. I was allowed to join the Messengers and since have been off on a few adventures and now I am here to counteract whatever plot Ephod is attempting.”

  Warde shook his head in disbelief, “you, a Messenger? The boy who could once drink us all under the table! But your tale is too strange to disbelieve.”

  Bryant laughed, “it is just as easy to believe you to be an aspiring Wanderer!”

  Warde blushed, “what can I say but that the Master has the power to change hearts.”

  Bryant reached over and clasped his friend’s hand, “well said my friend.”

  Hayden cleared his throat, “now that all these mushy reunions are finished, what are we going to do about our vile lord?”

  Bryant sobered, “I doubt it would avail us if I went to speak with him?”

  Hayden snorted, “he would have your head on a pike faster than he had his father and brother murdered. I know little of the powers these Spies possess, but I am
sure he is a match for any man with spells and vile weapons beyond count at his disposal.”

  Bryant asked, “do you know anything of the nature of Spies? Are they akin to Dreadlords and Soldiers in any way? Can a mortal blade harm them? Can they die or are they beyond death and can only be temporarily vanquished?”

  “Excellent questions,” said the old man, “but I have no answers. But I am certain the fiend cannot be reasoned with and that he is extremely dangerous. Your father is in terrible danger as are the other great lords of Ithamar, either of being destroyed if they stand against Ephod or of falling under his sway.”

  Bryant said, “I will need to learn more of this fiend before I can confront Ephod. I shall go to my father and learn what is passing in Ithamar. You two had best continue teaching the people of Ithamar that which they most need to hear. I thank you for your help.” He stood, bowed, and left the inn.

  Warde said to his master, “he has certainly grown in his absence.”

  Hayden smiled, “I think we have found our hope in the current crisis. Come, we had best be about our own business.” Warde smiled, helped his aged master to his feet, and they both made for the door. A man sitting quietly beside the fire followed them out into the fading day.

  Bryant found Erian waiting patiently and led him to a quiet corner of the stableyard that they might speak privately. He told Erian all that had passed in the inn. The stallion said, “a Spy? The Enemy has many servants in many guises, shapes, and forms. The Dreadlords are the most obvious and the most vile, but they are far from alone. We had best learn more about your late friend’s new occupation before you confront him.”

  Bryant was hoping Erian would have been of more help in the matter but he knew little more than he had just learned from the Wanderer. He mounted and together they rode towards the castle, wondering how to get themselves admitted without the whole kingdom learning that he had returned. He did not want Ephod to know until the last moment. Approaching the main gates openly would be an excellent way to let everyone know he was home. He thought for a moment and then turned Erian towards a small gate to one side of the castle, used mostly by servants and laborers to provide for the needs of the kitchens and the stables. There was usually only one guard set to watch it and it was usually an older specimen or one that was out of favor with their captain at the moment. Either way it might suit their needs. Suddenly Erian stopped and turned his great head that he might stare at Bryant with one eye and said, “why go through the gate? Mortal walls cannot hinder us if we do not wish it.”

  Bryant said quietly, “perhaps not, but that does not mean it will not cause a panic if someone sees us and that will only make our job more difficult.”

  “I suppose,” said the stallion.

  Bryant said, “if this does not work we shall try your idea, but in a little used part of the castle.” Erian nodded his approval and they continued on towards the Kitchen Gate.

  There was a graying guard seemingly asleep at his post, but Bryant saw his eyes occasionally glint in the torchlight and knew him only to be feigning. Bryant stopped a polite distance from the guard, dismounted, bowed politely, and asked, “I am come to see the King.”

  The guard eyed the boy for a moment and almost laughed at the youth’s audacity but there was something in the boy’s face and seriousness that stayed his guffaw. “You look familiar,” said the old man, “you know the King?”

  The boy said quietly, “I am his missing son gone these five years. I am returned on an important matter but wish my presence not to be known by certain important persons within the court.”

  The old man nodded sagely, “it is well that you would keep Lord Ephod ignorant of your return. He would not be friendly to such as you. I recognize you now boy. I shall let you pass but get up to no mischief.”

  The boy smiled, “mischief is the last thing I intend sir.”

  The guard nodded and let the boy pass. Bryant left Erian to his own devices and went in search of his father. He knew well the little used passages and doors within the keep and was soon deep within the castle seeking the King. This time in the evening the King should have withdrawn to his private rooms unless some court entertainment or pressing matter of state preoccupied him. He found his father’s door unguarded, which meant the man was not within. He went in search of the small audience chamber the King used to meet privately with various ambassadors, lords, merchants, and advisors. He found the door guarded and smiled quietly to himself in anticipation. As he watched from a shadowed doorway, Ephod stormed from the room and deeper into the castle. His old friend seemed to walk about with a shadow for a cloak and evil wafting from him like a perfume.

  The King did not emerge so he must yet be within, perhaps deep in thought. The guards would certainly not let the boy pass without questions so Bryant ghosted down the hall and entered the unguarded room adjacent to the King’s current chamber. He then put his purported ability to the test and banged his nose on the wall. Then he remembered he had to concentrate to accomplish such a feat. He tried once more and this time he succeeded. His father did not notice him enter, for he sat deep in thought, staring blankly at his feet. He looked thrice his age, apparently Ephod was causing grey hairs to flourish upon the king’s scalp. Something caused the king to look up for a moment and he jumped to find himself not alone, but upon recognizing his vanished son he seemed near to fainting. He looked for a moment as if he might call the guards but then curiosity overcame his fear and he said in a shaky voice, “Bryant?”

  The boy smiled to be recognized, “it is I, Sire.”

  The man gaped but also smiled to see his son yet alive, “you are not dead? You are not a ghost or a figment of my aging imagination?”

  The boy laughed, “no Sire, I am myself and quite alive. I have returned to aid you in your struggles with Ephod.”

  The King paled at mention of his dread new lord and said, “if you value your life my son, it would be best if you vanished as silently as you came. If you are still of that curious persuasion, I doubly urge you to flee. This is no place for an old man, let alone a boy. Your old friend is no longer himself.”

  “I know that Sire,” said the boy firmly, “but I alone can deal with him. His master is powerful and full of malice yet my Master is stronger still and will not allow such evil to flourish.”

  The king sighed, “I see you still believe all those fairy stories and they still give you airs of grandeur, but know that this is not something that can be resolved with the sword. The man is altogether evil not even sparing his own father and brother! I fear for my own life if my will does not fail first. He would have had the throne already if the other lords would have fallen in behind to support his grab for power. Each encounter with him wearies me more and I find myself struggling with all my waning strength to avoid doing that which he wishes. Soon I shall be naught but a puppet if something does not change.”

  Bryant said, “I am not some idealistic boy taken with fancies Sire. I have endured much in the intervening years and have been sent to deal with this tyrant. What can you tell me about any strange abilities or powers he seems to possess?”

  The boy’s seriousness finally started to convince the king that perhaps his mad son was not so mad as commonly thought. He said, “as I said, he has considerable power to influence the minds of others. It takes all my will to stand against him. He radiates evil and fear enough to cow even the staunchest heart. I do not think he fears either imprisonment or death. In fact I am not sure he fears anything; if he did I would certainly use it against him.”

  The boy said, “continue to resist him as best you can but I see I must deal with him sooner than late. But do nothing to incur his wrath or rouse his suspicion. He is staying in the castle? What is it he urges you to do?”

  The king laughed wanly, “I incur his wrath simply by denying his will. He sometimes stays in the castle but he also goes home
or spends an evening at the house of some other lord. He wants more power than I will allow him, he wants to change various of our laws and distort justice, he wishes to overburden the poor with more taxes, and he wants to make it a capital offense for anyone to believe in this King of yours.”

  Bryant nodded, bowed, and said, “farewell father. I shall deal with this fiend shortly that he trouble you no more. Give mother my regards but keep my presence a secret as long as you can.”

  His father smiled weakly and said, “you give hope to an old heart my son, but I fear it will all end in futility. Farewell.” The King stared as the boy passed once more through the wall; if he had such odd skills, perhaps he could counteract the vile lord.

  Bryant made his way back to the courtyard where he had left Erian. He found his friend in the middle of a scandal. A servant had come upon the unattended and unexplained horse and began asking questions but no one seemed to know why he was there. The stable boy certainly did not recognize the beast. Two guards, three servants, and the stable boy stood about the animal not knowing quite what to do. It had to have come from somewhere. Suddenly Bryant appeared and said, “thank you for watching my horse while I attended to my errand. I must be going now.”

  “Just who are you?” demanded one of the guards.

  The boy smiled and said, “simply a servant on an errand for the King. I have accomplished my task and must now be about other errands.”

  The guard said, “and who let you in?”

  The boy said, “the guard upon the Kitchen Gate knows me.”

  The guard rapped on the named door and it opened; a hurried conversation followed and the man returned saying, “very well, but next time you had best use the main gate like normal people.”

  The boy bowed deeply, led Erian from the castle, and the door slammed behind him. He said quietly to the cooperative guard, “I hope I did not cause you too much trouble.”

  The old guard laughed, “not at all, I have been in the guard so many years that there is little they dare do to me save perhaps make me retire. How is the King?”

  The boy shook his head, “highly troubled but I will do what I can. I thank you again for your aid.”

  He mounted and they vanished into the night. Now what to do about Ephod? As they rode, Erian said, “we should have snuck in. It would have caused less of a ruckus.”

  Bryant laughed, “I suppose you are right, as usual.”

  Erian laughed, “of course I am.”

  Bryant asked, “now if only I knew where Ephod was lurking, perhaps we could follow him and learn more about his new situation.”

  The stallion smiled, “I saw him ride out of the main gates not long after you vanished. He was riding at a steady trot and headed west.”

  Bryant smiled, “you can be right more often if this is the result!”

  They turned to follow the fled man. There was little doubt that Ephod had gone home for the night. His estate was not far to the west of the city and covered a significant amount of ground. They ghosted along the road and easily overtook the man who pressed his dark horse hard. He was almost impossible to see, being little more than a darker part of the night, but to the eyes of Bryant and Erian he was a dark blot too black to miss, for no natural night was ever that bleak. Erian’s hooves made no noise upon the road as they ran. They stayed far enough behind that he might not turn around suddenly and notice them. The man finally reached his destination and his guards let him pass but his pursuers knew they would not be so easily admitted. They turned along a cart path that led along one side of the great walled house. Erian wanted to come too, but Bryant sensibly suggested that there was little he could do inside the house at the moment and he would simply cause another scandal. Reluctantly he agreed and concealed himself in the woods opposite the path.

  Bryant snuck through the wall and quickly found a place to conceal himself from casual sight, where he could view the courtyard where Ephod was just dismounting. Ephod was about to storm into the house when a short man Bryant recognized from the inn stopped him and said something quietly which made Ephod snarl but he paid the spy who then scurried off. Ephod then stormed into the house in even more of an ill-temper than that which the King’s continued stubbornness inspired. That cursed Wanderer and Warde were conspiring with a person unknown about something. He would get to the bottom of it and make an end of all three! Who would dare oppose him when no mortal could stand against him? He wondered what had come of Bryant, the poor fool had certainly found the less promising path. He silently thanked the strange man for denying him access to the Messengers, for it allowed him to follow a path to even greater power.

  Bryant followed the man to his sleeping chambers, which were actually redundant as the Spy had no need of sleep, however he did need somewhere private to think and plot and work. Bryant thought to spy on the Spy from an adjacent room, but he forgot one small detail that made such a task nearly impossible. He appeared to mortals as a plainly clad man in drab clothes but to the undead minions of the Enemy he shone like the new risen sun. He had entered the antechamber of Ephod’s rooms hoping to find a hiding place, only to inadvertently blind his quarry, who shrieked, “put out that light fool! I will have your head for this.” Once Ephod’s eyes adjusted to the unwelcome glare he said in astonishment, “Bryant! How did you get in here? What do you want? That is a stupid question, for you certainly want me to quit meddling in your father’s affairs, but I am afraid I must disappoint you. I am more powerful than you can even begin to imagine. If you cherish your life, you had best vanish the same way you came, for soon I shall quit being gracious.”

  Bryant said quietly, “this is your only warning. Leave Ithamar in peace or I will do whatever is necessary to rid it of you.”

  Ephod laughed maliciously, “fool, I cannot die and neither will I leave simply because you ask nicely, which by the way you have yet to do! But that does not mean I shall not relish killing you. Your Master is powerless against mine and he will one day suffer the fate that you will this night.” Bryant moved towards his sword but before he could draw it forth a ball of crimson flame shot from Ephod’s outstretched hand and washed over him. Bryant felt the heat but nothing worse as he continued his move to free his blade. Ephod was quite aghast, “that should have left nothing but charred bone! No mortal can survive my magic!”

  Bryant said patiently, “and who said I was mortal? Now surrender!”

  Ephod had his own blade out in answer and they were soon entangled in a deadly dance of flashing steel. Ephod was effective in the defense, but Bryant managed to score his wrist, which yielded only a sharp curse from his opponent. Ephod’s blade struck Bryant in several places but burned far less than a Dreadlord’s sword, therefore Bryant hoped it had not the power to banish him back to the River. “I am impressed,” sneered Ephod, “you were far the inferior when last we crossed swords. How is it your blade can touch me? No other sword or knife has such power over me!”

  Bryant said, “neither is my blade of mortal make.”

  Their swords flashed again and this time Bryant took Ephod’s sword in the chest. The pain was intense but he did not vanish as he had feared. Ephod pulled back in astonishment, “what must I do to be rid of you?”

  Bryant raised his own blade to strike once more but another ball of fire sprang forth from Ephod’s hand, this one black as starless night. Neither did it harmlessly wash over him but consumed him utterly; as the blackness and torment of the flames took him he heard Ephod laughing coldly. Ephod watched the flames quickly engulf the boy who had been his friend, and smiled to know he had the power to vanquish such a foe. He had been warned to be wary of the Messengers but it seemed they were not so dangerous after all. Soon there was nothing left of the boy but memory; he had vanished completely, including his fell blade. Not even a hint of ash remained: a fitting end for a veritable nuisance. Ephod turned his thoughts to more imp
ortant matters.

  Bryant awoke completely submerged in the River. He swam to shore before the current could sweep him away. He scanned his person once out of the water; he was surprised to find himself completely unsinged. He felt eyes upon him and turned to find himself not alone. Garren stood nearby and said sheepishly, “I forgot to mention Spies. Not quite as vile as the Dreadlords but much more numerous and sneaky. They can wield many vile spells, most cannot touch us but the Black Fire consumes us utterly; it can even touch the Pegassi. Their swords are painful but harmless unless he happens to decapitate you, but yours can send them back to their vile master who may just be angered enough by their failure to resign them to the Soldiery. How fare you in dealing with your former friend?”

  Bryant said, “we were never what one would call close friends and now he is become something altogether evil. I have no qualms in facing him. Is there anything else you forgot to mention that might come in handy?”

  Garren laughed, “the Enemy has many servants and weapons, each more strange and vile than the last. Most you will have to discover for yourself.”

  Bryant asked, “you mentioned something about decapitation being a problem?”

  Garren said, “most swords, save those of the Dreadlords and a few other of the Enemy’s most favored minions, have no power over us save to inflict a passing bout of pain. But any blade that can touch us can banish us back to the River if it sunders our head from our body.”

  Bryant snorted, “to think one could speak of such a thing so casually!”

  Garren laughed, “it is more an irritation than a real danger.”

  Bryant then asked, “is there any way to keep others from seeing us when we would rather not be seen?”

  Garren smiled, “all you need to do is concentrate and you will appear to all who can see you as you are as you wish to be seen.”

  Bryant sighed, “that would have been helpful to know.”

  Garren laughed, “you will not now forget it. You had best return to your assigned task.”

  Erian suddenly appeared and faster than thought they were bound once more for Ithamar. As they rode, Bryant said quietly, “I am sorry to always be troubling you so.”

  Erian laughed, “it is the nature of your service and mine, what is to apologize for? You might as well apologize for the color of your eyes.”

  While Bryant could be banished thus and yet with Erian’s speed return at almost the same moment he disappeared, it often did not happen in that manner. In fact much time could pass between the moment he disappeared and the time of his return. They arrived once more at Ephod’s manor only to find the man himself fled but a Dreadlord and six soldiers stood in the courtyard, preparing to leave on some errand. Of course it would have to be the same monstrosity that had confronted and humiliated the boy so many times before. He mocked saying, “your friend is not here and I suspect you must rather follow after him than stay here and deal with me though you might find my errand just as terrible. He went to deal with your obstinate father. I am off to find your friend the Wanderer.” He laughed cruelly and Bryant wished with all his heart to stay and fight the diabolical creature but he knew his duty lay with Ephod and thence he must go. Erian knew this as well as his rider and needed no urging to go after the fled Ephod. Erian seemed to know exactly where they would be and when. This time, Bryant had no wish to appear other than they were.

  Ephod was riding hard with six Soldiers at his command when the Pegassi appeared before them on the road, rearing with his great wings spread. Ephod’s mortal horse went mad but this did not keep him from yelling to the Soldiers behind him, “shoot him you fool!” Bryant heard a bowstring snap and wondered what could be gained from a single arrow when the answer quite surprised him. He felt a great pain in his side, felt himself falling from Erian’s back, he hit the ground hard, and as his blurred vision finally faded to black he watched Erian disappear, consumed by the Black Flame.

  Bryant found himself facing Garren once more but it seemed all a dream, for things beyond the edge of sight were vague and fuzzy. But how could one dream if one did not sleep and could not be rendered unconscious? Garren seemed to sense his thoughts and said, “you are unconscious.”

  Bryant started in surprise, “how? What happened?”

  Garren said grimly, “it is perhaps the strangest weapon of the Enemy; it is the Arrow of Discord and it restores mortal life.”

  Bryant frowned, “why would the Enemy want to restore someone to life...” He suddenly began to realize the consequences of such a weapon. There seemed no way the Enemy could destroy one of the Messengers, they could only be banished for a little while. By restoring mortality, with it came all the vulnerabilities and frailties associated with that condition; one could be tortured, imprisoned, and killed.

  Garren let these thoughts settle in the boy’s mind and then continued, “you are not truly mortal, you have drunk of the River and that cannot be taken from you, only willingly forsaken by your own choosing. Once death takes you, you will be restored to your former condition.”

  Bryant asked, “if they have such a weapon why do they not use it to decimate us? They could just keep us captive for the rest of our natural lives and then repeat the process.”

  Garren smiled, “that would be the ideal but there is ever only one such weapon within the Enemy’s possession and while its victim lives it cannot be used again; you must die before the thing can be used again.”

  Bryant nodded thoughtfully and asked, “and what happens if it is used against our enemies?”

  Garren shook his head, “we are not allowed to possess such a weapon but I assume it would do to them as it does to us.”

  “What am I to do?” asked Bryant.

  Garren smiled grimly, “whatever you must to accomplish your mission. You are in an abnormal position but you are still a Messenger and must act accordingly.”

  Bryant nodded dazedly as suddenly the darkness returned. He awoke and wished that he had not. His side throbbed where the arrow had pierced it, his body ached from the fall, and breathing was an agony, making him wonder if he had punctured a lung. But far worse was the look of agony upon his father’s face as the two Soldiers that had been holding his prone form by the shoulders dropped him carelessly to the floor. Ephod and two other Soldiers occupied the tiny chamber in which they had found the king, whom they now held captive. Ephod smiled maliciously at the wounded boy and scoffed, “how the mighty have fallen! You are now as vulnerable as every other man who walks the earth and just as pathetic. And now your precious father is going to demand your head for your crimes against the new order of things, else I shall have his.”

  Ephod turned his cruel eyes upon the stricken king and demanded, “now your highness, you will do as I say or you will share your son’s fate. Your first act at my behest will be to declare all nonsense pertaining to this so-called ‘Great King’ anathema and punishable by death. Even now the Wanderer and his foul apprentice are safely in our hands. In celebration of this decree, I think all three of these heretics should be executed at dawn before the entire city to illustrate the seriousness of your new law. We will discuss what else needs to be changed after that. Agreed?”

  The king looked with grieved eyes upon his son, it was obvious the boy was dying from the arrow in his side and would be dead soon regardless. The king said pathetically, “it shall be as you say it must.”

  He looked pleadingly at the boy, who said weakly, “do not grieve for me Sire, but do as you must. Trust the True King and things will be accomplished as they must.” Ephod kicked him cruelly in the ribs for his outburst. The king had not previously paid much heed to this King fellow but perhaps the matter needed further thought if this fell villain was so adamantly against the very idea and his son was willing to die for such a cause; he only wondered if there was hope for one willing to trade the lives of three of the King’s servants for his own, on
e his own son! He wept at his own cowardice but there was little else he could do at the moment. The boy’s cough shook his entire body and produced a spattering of blood that stained the carpet. Ephod looked with disgust at the Soldiers, wishing they had more innate sense; killing the boy would not benefit them at all but the idiots had failed to aim for a non-vital area and the boy would die regardless.

  A thought occurred to him suddenly and he wondered if it would work. The arrow would be useful once more when the boy died, but if he left it embedded in his flesh would it again render him mortal or would he stay dead, as the arrow would trap his corpse in mortality while his spirit was sundered from his body thus forcing him to cross the River and leave them alone forever! However, he could not have the boy injured in similar fashion if he should again be rendered mortal lest they be in the exact same quandary. He ordered the Soldiers to hold the boy while he yanked the shaft from where it was embedded deeply in the boy’s chest. Bryant screamed as the thing was pulled forth and then again as it was driven deep into his thigh where it would not prove a fatal wound should no matter how Ephod’s little experiment turned out. “Now majesty,” said Ephod condescendingly, “rouse your servants and soldiers and let them wake the cityfolk that all might gather and watch the morning’s spectacle.” They drug the failing boy to the square in the center of the city and flung him down to await the dawn. One Soldier was posted to guard him, but he was too weak to escape and Ephod wondered if he would even survive until morning.

  Bryant lay in an agony of pain, his mind could hardly focus, and each breath was a struggle to survive. He heard the screams and weeping of the townsfolk as they were wakened before dawn and herded towards the square. The grim and shivering crowd gathered in the dim grey light that preceded the dawn. They drew back in terror as the Dreadlord and his Soldiers rode forth with Hayden and Warde both securely bound. They were herded up the steps to the platform where Bryant lay under the watchful eye of the Soldier. Surprise and pity filled their eyes as they looked upon the stricken boy. They said nothing but grim determination filled their eyes. They waited patiently and finally Ephod, the king, and all their retinue arrived with the headsman in tow.

  Bryant could hardly think but he had come to similar conclusions as Ephod after the Spy had removed the arrow and driven it again into a non-vital area. His thoughts chilled him to the bone but he also found a new source of hope and prayed desperately for the strength to act when the chance came. Ephod and the king ascended the platform with the Dreadlord, the executioner, and several of the Soldiers. Ephod announced the new order of things, seconded meekly by the king. The citizenry groaned in dread and terror. The crimes of the condemned were listed and even Bryant’s hazy mind thought the list quite impressive. Hayden was then forced forward to the block and the headsman raised his axe. While they were busy with the Wanderer, Bryant took his chance.

  As the axe found its mark, Bryant rolled to his good leg, as he stood he grasped the arrow and pulled it free, and lunged towards Ephod. He felt the sword of the Soldier that had been standing over him pierce his chest but before he fell he drove the arrow into Ephod’s shoulder as the man yelled at the Soldier, “no you fool! Do not kill him!”

  But it was too late, the deed had been done. Whether the sword, the exertion, or both together had proved fatal none knew, but the second death took Bryant the arrow regained its potency and rendered Ephod mortal ere he could pull the offending shaft free of his shoulder. Even as the boy fell dead, he felt more than alive once more and his sword was in his hand. The Soldiers fell upon him like a pack of wolves but fell just as easily to his blade. Then the Dreadlord appeared to deal with the annoying child. This time Bryant succeeded in felling the vile minion before finishing off the rest of the Soldiers. The square was in uproar and hope shone bright in the eyes of Warde and the king though the former’s also held tears for his slain master. Finally, all the vile minions of the Enemy were destroyed or rendered helpless. The king’s own soldiers had come forward and taken custody of Ephod once they realized he was no longer an undefeatable and deadly menace.

  The king shouted joyfully, “forget the order that has just been rendered! May all the people of Ithamar willingly seek after the True King, for it is He that is victorious this day!” The people cheered and finally turned a willing ear to Warde, who had much work to do as he filled his slain master’s place. His heart grieved but was also greatly encouraged by what had come to pass that day. The old man was given a proper burial and many mourned his passing.

  The king withdrew to a private place with his son and asked, “what just happened? You were dying and then dead and now alive. Ephod possessed terrible magic and used it on a whim. Many good men died ere he forced his way into my presence this night. Now he is helplessly in the custody of the very soldiers he once slaughtered with impunity. What is going on?”

  Bryant quickly tried to explain but only managed to confuse the poor king more. Finally he said, “Ephod has traded his soul to the Dark One for vile powers and could not be killed by mortal means. I was sent to stop him but temporarily rendered mortal by the same arrow that did just that to him when death took me. What will come of him upon death I know not, for that resides in the purview of his dark master. He may simply return to again wreak havoc on Ithamar or perhaps he will be cast into the abyss to trouble the world no longer. I suggest you lock him away securely, at least until enough time passes that he cannot again lay claim to his lordship and use it as a weapon against you.”

  The king shook his head, “I would rather watch him die this very day but what you say is wise in its own peculiar way. I shall do as you wish.”

  Bryant added, “I would place him somewhere safe, secure, and guard him heavily, for the minions of the Dark One will be eager to kill him, for while he lives one of their greatest weapons is useless.”

  The king nodded, “what of you?”

  Bryant smiled sadly but great was the joy in his eyes, “my duty here is nearly finished and whither I go from here I do not know. We may never meet again this side of the River. Listen to the Wanderer and we shall meet again one day. I will speak with Ephod before I go.”

  The king said, “I am still confused, but know that I love you dearly and could not be prouder of you. You will be missed.” Bryant smiled and went to find the prisoner.

  He found the man buried deep in the castle dungeons; the Spy glowered inconsolably at his guards and the dank walls about him. He saw Bryant and sneered, “you cannot do this to me! My master will never stand for it. They will come for me. You will see!”

  Bryant said quietly, “they will come for you certainly but only to see that the arrow is once more useful. What your master will think of your failure only he knows. You will be lucky to be reduced to a Soldier. However long it lasts, it will still be far too short, for the darkness that awaits you will last for all eternity. This cell is splendid by comparison.”

  Ephod growled, “be gone fool! You know nothing of my master. Be gone and mock me no longer.”

  Bryant said quietly, “farewell my friend.”

  He turned to go and found himself standing in the town square with Erian before him. He embraced the great neck and said, “I have missed you! I thought you could not be touched by the weapons of the Enemy?”

  He snorted, “not by their weapons perhaps but certain of their spells work as well against me as they do against you. That was certainly an unpleasant experience!”

  Bryant laughed and climbed aback his friend and asked, “where are we off to next?”

  Erian laughed and said, “only the Master knows.” He reared and was off with all speed to their next adventure. Ephod sulked in his cell for a few days but it was not long before Bryant’s prediction was fulfilled; the man was slain by some minion of the Enemy that none had seen come or go.