Imago Chronicles: Book Two, Tales from the West

Imago Chronicles:

Book Two, Tales from the West

L.T. Suzuki

Published by L.T. Suzuki at Smashwords

© Copyright 2002 L.T. Suzuki. (First Edition)

© Copyright 2021 L.T. Suzuki. (Second Edition)

All rights reserved worldwide

Registered with the WGAw (Writers Guild of America, West)

Book Cover, graphic design and layout:

Copyright © 2002 Shinobi Creative Productions

shinobicreativeproductions.com

Discover other titles by L.T. Suzuki at:

smashwords.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

*****

CONTENTS

Title Page

Imagine…

CHAPTER 1: call to arms

CHAPTER 2: the journey begins

CHAPTER 3: the elves of wyndwood

CHAPTER 4: a fork in the trail

CHAPTER 5: the temple of the watchers

CHAPTER 6: land’s end

CHAPTER 7: tempting fate

CHAPTER 8: a surprise attack

CHAPTER 9: the last warrior

CHAPTER 10: striking a balance

CHAPTER 11: the river of souls

CHAPTER 12: back to darross

CHAPTER 13: of wizards and revelations

CHAPTER 14: love; lost and found

CHAPTER 15: the dragon’s lair

CHAPTER 16: a terrible end

CHAPTER 17: breaking vorath’s hold

CHAPTER 18: the race to the summit

CHAPTER 19: mount hope

CHAPTER 20: parting of ways

About the Author

Other Books

*****

IMAGINE

There is a secret place; unknown to most, forgotten by many,

but lives on only for those who believe.

Though you cannot look to a map to find this magical realm, it is still very real.

In this world, lost on a plane that exists in the twilight where one enters a dream as sleep takes over the mind and the body, Imago lives on.

Here, as in all places where mankind dwells, the eternal struggle between good and evil plays out. In this land, there are places fair and foul, heroes larger than life, and villains one hopes lurk only in our nightmares.

In this mystical world, life is an extraordinary adventure where revenge and redemption, betrayal and salvation, and even love, lost and found, are woven together to create this rich tapestry of life.

Where is this realm you ask?

To find Imago, all you must do is close your eyes and believe…

*****

CHAPTER 1

CALL TO ARMS

Young man! Have you lost your mind? A stern voice called out as a powerful hand reached over, pulling the boy back onto the castle rampart from where he leaned far out over the battlement. Do you wish to meet your Maker before your time?

No, my lord, I mean to save a life. The boy answered as he pointed down. See… A bird lies injured on the ledge.

Edging closer to the boy’s side, he peered out over the side of the battlement. There indeed rested a falcon. In a crumpled heap of ruffled feathers, aside from its rapid breathing, the bird lay still; its beak agape as the weary creature panted heavily. Its right wing dangled limply by its side.

You risk your life for that of a bird? he asked, reprimanding the boy. It is a foolhardy risk you take, Ewen Vatel!

For an instant, the boy cringed inwardly. The only time he was ever addressed by his full name was when he was in big trouble.

With all due respect, my lord, it is not my place to judge whether my life is of more value than that of the bird. Ewen responded in a meek voice as he politely addressed the Prince of Carcross. What I do know for certain is that falcon is in need of help. And I do not have the heart to deny it of aid, when it is the one thing I know I can offer.

So be it! Your heart is much too large for your body, my young friend. Fetch a servant to aid you and then call upon the Wizard. Have Lindras Weatherstone tend to the falcon’s injury. When you are done, report to the King’s great hall. With that said, the Prince of Carcross promptly turned away, disappearing down a long, gloomy corridor.

*****

In the solitude of his small, dim-lit quarters, Ewen Vatel watched with an equal measure of fascination and concern as a tall, lean figure draped in a great, dusky blue-gray robe toiled by the light of the candle. The Wizard’s long fingers and large hands worked with uncanny dexterity and care. They were lined with many wrinkles - worn and tanned against his cascading whiskers.

Ewen smiled, watching Lindras Weatherstone, the great Wizard of the West, as he set to work, thoroughly absorbed in the task at hand. Lindras grumbled just under his breath as his flowing, silvery beard dangled in his way as he attempted to neatly fold a narrow strip of clean cloth to use as a bandage. Grabbing a hold of this silvery mane by the band of gold holding his whiskers neatly together, he casually tossed this beard over his shoulder and out of his way. Sweeping his long, white hair from his face so he may better see, he tucked the stray wisps behind his ears.

Ewen could not help but notice this Wizard’s ears were pointed like that of an Elf, however, what was just as conspicuous was that these ears were aged and tattered. To Ewen, these old ears looked like they were formed from thick pieces of worn, weathered parchment torn from an ancient book that a dog had chewed on.

It is done, announced Lindras, wiping his hands clean on a rag.

With the falcon’s eyes shielded by a leather hood, the bird remained calm in this enforced darkness as the Wizard set its wing in place.

That was fast, commented the boy.

That is because I know what I am doing, responded Lindras, his words matter-of-fact. Now, go fetch some water and convince the cook to give you a breast of chicken to feed this bird.

Raw? questioned Ewen.

Of course, raw! It is not as though this falcon can cook up a meal in the wild, answered Lindras, shooing the young servant away with a wave of his hand as he secured the makeshift bandage with the other. Now hurry, for I am confident this falcon will be in need of sustenance after enduring this ordeal.

Ewen nodded, slipping out the door to hurry to the palace kitchen.

*****

Outside the great hall, a man draped in a flowing, black cloak that hung from his shoulders down to the ankles of his riding boots quietly paced in the shadows of the wide corridor. In deep contemplation, his fingers ran through his dark hair, sweeping it away from his brows to reveal gentle, brown eyes. In its depth, one could see a soul burdened with a kind of sadness that only he knew and understood. Although his eyes seemed to belong to a man of advanced years - one who had experienced much in his lifetime, his clean-shaven face gave him the appearance he was much younger than his true age.

In the eyes of a stranger, beneath this long cloak, this man’s raiment coloured in a rich, deep shade of blue, dark gray and white made it obvious he was of noble stock. The true colours and opulence of his clothes were only revealed when he paced through the brilliant shafts of sunlight streaming in through the tall, narrow windows. It was only when one spied upon the brooch holding his long cloak in place was it apparent that this man was royalty. This brooch was adorned with a dark blue stone engraved with six tiny stars and embossed with a white cross. This was the heraldic symbol of the House of Whycliffe and this man was none other than Prince Markus of Carcross.

The Prince awaited the arrival of his father, King Bromwell. Word was received of late a party of kings and knights from the surrounding countries to the north and west were converging on Carcross with an urgent request to meet with Markus’ father.

Upon hearing the approach of rushed footsteps echoing down the corridor, Ewen quickly pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the great hall. This young servant bowed his head respectfully as King Bromwell stepped through the doorway, followed by Prince Markus. A knight appointed to captain the army of Carcross followed several steps behind them.

As Bromwell took his place at the head of the vast table, Prince Markus proceeded to his chair situated to his father’s right side. Across from him to the King’s left, Sir Darius Calsair, the protector of the House of Whycliffe, loyal knight and captain, took his place at the table.

Leaning over, Prince Markus whispered to the servant now standing behind, and to the right, of King Bromwell’s large, stately chair. Ewen, how does the bird fare?

The boy’s eyes remained fixed straight ahead. Standing at attention, he discreetly whispered his reply, I do believe she will be quite fine, my lord. Thank you for asking.

The Prince smiled. Inwardly, it pleased him to know the boy’s efforts to save the falcon will not be in vain. He then turned his attention back to the King.

So, what news have you heard from afar, Father? I sense it cannot be good. The Alliance of old has not gathered in such a manner since the last Great War.

Running a hand down his pensive face, the King drew a weary breath. His eyes closed as he contemplated the possible ramifications of this imminent meeting.

Markus, I never believed I would live to see this day come to pass, responded Bromwell, releasing a dreary sigh. The Watchers, the Three Sisters of Mount Isa, forewarned of this event. Even now, the stars align to set into motion events that shall herald the beginning of a terrible calamity; a great catastrophe like no other faced in modern times.

As King Bromwell addressed his son, the sounds of approaching footsteps echoed heavily in the corridor as a party moved swiftly toward the great hall. He could make out the rushed steps of a harried page as he ran to keep ahead of this party, even as he escorted them to this room for the meeting. They entered the chamber as Bromwell, Markus and Darius rose up from their chairs to greet the kings from the outlying countries.

The page formally announced their arrival as the men stepped into the room one by one, taking their places at the table: From the House of Northcott, King Sebastian of Darross; from the House of Calaware, King Augustyn of Cedona; and from the royal House of the WestHaven, King Kal-lel Wingfield of Wyndwood.

Next to each king sat the captain of their great armies: Sir Faria Targott, protector of the House of Northcott; Sir Lando Bayliss, protector of the House of Calaware; and Prince Arerys, son of King Kal-lel the ruler of the Elves’ domain in the heart of the enchanted forest of Wyndwood.

Needless to say, King Bromwell, we are the bearers of bad tidings, warned Kal-lel. The Elf King stood to address the party. The day we all have come to dread is close at hand. The Dark Lord Beyilzon’s armies gather in the Shadow Mountains. They are advancing south as they await their master’s return.

Are these not just rumours? queried Prince Markus.

I am afraid they are not, answered King Sebastian. Beckham, Wynfield and Laidlock are already under siege. My people have scattered, seeking refuge in the Aranak Mountains or they flee to the south, heading to the borders of your country.

Speaking on behalf of King Sebastian, Captain Faria Targott was quick to add, My men have been successful in driving them back thus far, but it shall be only a matter of time before the frequency of the invasions escalate to the point we will no longer be able to repel them.

So they are attacking in steady droves? questioned Markus.

Up until now, the attacks have been sporadic at best, answered Faria. At first, these assaults seemed random; however, it appears the armies invading from Talibarr are seeking someone as they advance.

"Or perhaps, they were searching for something," suggested Bromwell, digesting this news.

We speak the truth, insisted Kal-lel. It is as the Watchers had foretold; Beyilzon is already at work, though he has yet to make his presence known. We are forced to take action now.

Why does this concern you, King Kal-lel? asked Bromwell. He stared into the Elf’s icy, blue eyes, as if searching his soul for an answer. I thought it no longer mattered to you, or your kind, what happens to the race of man.

Arerys rose up from his chair to defend his father. King Bromwell, my father means no ill-will and though we do not wish to be involved in the affairs of man, the coming tides of change shall wash over all, if we do not act as one!

Kal-lel placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, upon which Arerys grew silent, reclaiming his place at the great table.

King Bromwell, I have stood by your people, the human race, for what you will deem an eternity. I had fought side by side with your ancestors to rid Imago of the Dark Lord Beyilzon, declared Kal-lel, his voice flaring with indignation. I wish not to embroil myself, nor my people in the follies of man, for it is in the blackness of man’s heart that Beyilzon lives on. Unfortunately, this is one problem we must all bear together or be destroyed; our nations falling to ruin one by one, if we fail to unite against this evil.

I beg your forgiveness. You are quite right, apologized Bromwell, nodding to the Elf. You have been there from the beginning. None should question your motives or integrity.

So you understand the need to collaborate our efforts on a grand scale? determined Kal-lel. To work as a united force?

If we wish to defeat Beyilzon again, then we must stand united once more, mortal men and Elves. This Alliance forged long ago must remain true! proclaimed Bromwell, placing a closed fist over his heart in solemn promise to stand firm.

Upon this vow, all rose to their feet. With their right fist over their heart, both men and Elves declared, For the Alliance!

I agree we must stand as a united front, however, if the predictions of the Dark Lord’s coming should unfold as the Oracles on Mount Isa claim, I have grave concerns as to how we are to counter this evil, if history should repeat itself, said Markus.

Repeat itself? snorted Augustyn, in a disgruntled huff. If Beyilzon’s powers manifest and he returns, the Dark Lord will do so with a vengeance. Make no mistake, he will be bent on annihilating the race of man and Elf for putting him away the first time.

This is very true, Prince Markus. We can only expect worse, should this evil be resurrected, stated Sebastian, nodding in agreement.

King Kal-lel, you are the only one among us to have faced the wrath of Beyilzon almost one-thousand-years ago. How are we to defeat one not of flesh and blood? asked Augustyn.

Yes, how do we fight against such evil? asked Sebastian, pondering this dilemma. I do not believe we possess the power or the weapons to defeat such an unearthly adversary!

It is difficult enough dealing with the insurgency from the north, but if those Talibarrians are led into battle by the Dark Lord, we shall face total annihilation, stated Faria Targott, standing to be heard above the kings.

Are you saying we should stand by and do nothing? challenged Darius Calsair, as Bromwell motioned his captain to sit down. Wait for death to come to us? For if that is the case, I would rather die fighting than to idly sit by, waiting for death to make its claim.

Meet those devils head-on, I say! declared Lando Bayliss, boldly hoisting his great sword aloft in defiance to this impending evil. If I am destined to die, then I refuse to die without a fight.

Easy enough for you two to say! growled Faria Targott. Neither of you have seen ongoing battles of late, not like I have.

Ewen watched in stunned silence as civil discussions disintegrated. Soon, all those in attendance at Bromwell’s table were conversing at once: kings, princes, and captains. Each one was speaking louder than the others to be heard above the uproar. As voices rose and fists slammed down against the table to punctuate their angry words, the walls of this great castle abruptly shuddered. Drinking vessels and weapons resting on the table rattled. This sudden tremor was followed immediately by a sudden burst of cold air. It swirled through the meeting hall, enveloping all inside with a great chill.

Silence! A deep, resonating voice boomed from the darkened corridor as the doors flew open. How can any of you hope to be understood when you cannot even be heard?

Step forward! Who are you to dare interrupt our meeting? growled Augustyn, glaring at the great, shadowy figure looming at the doorway.

Yes! Make yourself known! demanded Sebastian, as the captain of his army, Lando Bayliss, brandished his sword in preparation to confront this entity.

Lindras Weatherstone, at your service, announced the Wizard, bowing in respect as he entered the room.

Lowering the hood with one hand to reveal his face, the other hand led the way with his well-worn wooden staff. His long silvery beard adorned by a band of gold and his balding head crowned by a thinning circle of flowing, white hair made his blue-gray eyes blaze all the brighter against his lined and weathered face.

And just what would this Wizard know of the impending doom we are faced with? grunted Augustyn.

Plenty, replied Lindras, unaffected by this mortal’s hostile tone as he turned to address the Elf King. You know there is only one answer, my friend.

The Stone of Salvation, responded Kal-lel, nodding in agreement.

Yes! It is the key that locked Beyilzon away in his own darkness, revealed the Wizard. It shall be his undoing again.

The Stone of Salvation you say? grunted Augustyn, his voice tightening with impatience. That is a myth. And if it were real, we do not know where it is now!

Just because it had been relegated to a distant memory by mankind, it does not mean the Stone of Salvation is nothing more than a forgotten relic of legend, argued Lindras.

Speak, Master Weatherstone, urged Bromwell, motioning for the others to be silent so the Wizard of the West can be heard. What do you know of this so-called Stone of Salvation?

Before Lindras could speak, with great indignation, Sebastian leapt from his seat to denounce the old being. This is an outrage! Are you all fools? Do you entrust your lives and the lives of your people to the words of a Sorcerer?

Amidst the storm of all this controversy, Ewen had remained silent and steadfast throughout, but the words spoken by the King of Darross forced the boy to act. He finally spoke out to defend his trusted friend, I do not wish to speak out of turn, nor do I mean you any disrespect, Your Highness, but you are so wrong! Master Weatherstone is not a Sorcerer at all! He is a Wizard, a fine one at that!

Ewen was cut short as Lindras raised his hand for silence.

The boy is quite right, you know? stated Lindras. I do not deal in mischief and black magic as Sorcerers do. As an advisor and trusted friend to King Bromwell, I regret to say the only hope lies with this Stone. It must be returned to Mount Hope and this must be done quickly!

"How can a stone combat evil?" grunted Sebastian, his tone incredulous.

Make no mistake, King Sebastian, this is no ordinary stone I speak of, averred the Wizard. Plucked from the Mines of Valgath deep in the Shadow Mountains, cut by skilled hands to reflect its true brilliance, and then blessed by divine powers to aid in Beyilzon’s downfall, to this very day the Stone of Salvation is still graced with potent, magical powers.

Well, it is obvious to me that Lindras knows much about the Stone of Salvation’s origin and creation, if not anything else, noted Bromwell.

Of course I would, stated Lindras. After all, being that earth is my element, I was bestowed with the onerous task of retrieving this gem from the bowels of the earth where it was protected by a gargantuan dragon. Also, I was called upon to use my skills to carefully cut this Stone to fit the pommel of the sword that killed Beyilzon’s physical form.

So we have established this Stone does exist and it is the key to our salvation from the Dark Lord’s treachery, responded Augustyn. But the mystery remains: Where is the Stone of Salvation now?

The Wizard held forth his staff for all to see. The crystal orb embedded atop Lindras’ staff glowed softly. Inside, a veil of mist dissolved, allowing a shadowy image to be revealed: The Oracles, the Three Sisters of Mount Isa, can be seen in their temple. One was staring skyward; one was looking out to the east while Eliya the Watcher of the Future, was gazing into her crystal orb that was set before her. She searched for signs to foretell of the things to come.

The Watchers? What do the Three Sisters have to do with the Stone of Salvation? questioned Augustyn, his voice rising with his impatience.

The Oracles appointed by the Maker of All are the guardians of the Stone in question, answered Lindras.

Do you know this for a fact, Master Weatherstone? queried Sebastian, his voice still wrought with scepticism.

He does, replied Kal-lel; for it was Lindras Weatherstone who was our witness when King Brannon and I delivered the Stone of Salvation to the Watchers. It was after Brannon had destroyed Beyilzon, defeating the Dark Lord almost one thousand years ago that it was returned to Mount Isa. Since that time, this Stone had been hidden away from the eyes and hands of mankind and anyone else wishing to abuse its powers.

Like the wind escaping from the billowing sails of a tall ship, Sebastian slumped back into his chair. A moment of silence passed as all reflected on this news.

I know King Kal-lel well enough to believe his words to be true, stated Prince Markus, nodding to the Elf. And Lindras, though a conjurer of magic, he does not conjure up lies. The Watchers foretold of the coming of this calamity long ago. It is history; recorded in my family annals, but we chose to turn a blind eye to it because we did not wish for these events to come true. Well, the time is now at hand. We cannot stop it from happening.

True, time will not stand still, agreed Lindras; however, we may still be able to alter the course of destiny.

Bromwell stood up from his chair. He released a disheartened sigh as both his hands rested heavily on the table. The King looked like a war-weary knight having just returned from a long battle only to receive news that he was to head off to war once again.

The Wizard is correct, conceded Bromwell. We cannot turn back the hands of time. Our only salvation is in this Stone. As history dictates, there is only one who can bear this burden and that would be the scion of King Brannon of Carcross. I am that heir.

The heir to misfortune, I say, said Augustyne, giving his head a dismal shake as he gazed over at Bromwell.

No… responded Markus. He rose to his feet to address Augustyne’s comment. Father, you cannot do this! It is a perilous quest fraught with many dangers.

So what will you have me do, my son? You know I cannot turn a blind eye to this impending evil.

Carcross, the people of our country, they will need your leadership and guidance during the dark days to come. Tend to your armies; protect the people and this fair land.

And what? Disregard my appointed duty? questioned Bromwell. Ask another to take my place? For if that is so, I can do neither.

I know. And this duty will not go ignored, nor will you be asked to select another, replied Markus. I request to undertake this mission in your place.

You do? gasped the King, stunned by his son’s words.

In your name and honour, I shall see it done, even if I should die trying, Father.

Bromwell’s brows furrowed with concern as he stood before Markus. Placing his hands on his son’s shoulders, he whispered to him, My brave Markus, you know not what you ask for.

In desperation, the Prince dropped down onto his left knee, humbling himself before his father. Taking Bromwell’s right hand into both of his, Markus pleaded, I beg of you. Let me go in your place.

A father is not supposed to bury his son, and that may well be the case, should you confront the Dark Lord.

And if you should die confronting this monster, then I shall die avenging your death, vowed Markus. All will be lost in the end.

You will do this? questioned Bromwell.

You know I mean no disrespect to you when I say I am younger and faster, with far greater stamina to withstand the rigours of such a mission. I have learned from your wisdom and skills. Grant me this quest and I shall not let you down. The people need their king and I swear I will do right by you.

Perhaps it is an offer you should seriously consider, great and wise King, suggested Lindras. "Your son does present a valid argument. And there is nothing in our shared history that preordains it must be you to confront this evil. It only states it must be a scion of the late King Brannon. In this matter, Prince Markus may be a better candidate to undertake this mission."

With these words, Bromwell stood upright as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Clasping his son’s hand, he raised Markus onto his feet. You are my one and only son, Markus. It is with great trepidation I grant you this request. Are you sure of this?

Yes. There was no hesitation in Markus’ voice.

Bromwell searched his son’s face for a sign he would change his mind, but when their eyes met, Bromwell knew. Markus could not be swayed.

So be it! announced Bromwell. I shall assemble my knights and soldiers in preparation for war. For you, Markus, this mission cannot be undertaken alone. You will need your own army to reclaim the Stone of Salvation and to return it to Mount Hope to defeat evil.

Forgive me, Your Highness, but it is ill-advised to enter Talibarr with an army of any size, warned Lindras. I am certain Beyilzon has spies stationed everywhere. Such a presence shall only serve to forewarn him, allowing him to take pre-emptive measures. I suggest using an element of surprise to catch the Dark Lord unawares.

Lindras is quite correct. There may be strength in numbers, but this shall only alert Beyilzon to ready his forces, agreed Kal-lel. It is crucial this quest be conducted in absolute secret.

Bromwell turned to his guests seated at this great table. Whom amongst you is brave of heart and great in might? Who will answer this call to arms? Is there another with the courage to join Prince Markus on this mission?

Without hesitation, Darius Calsair immediately arose from his chair. I will be honoured to aid you in this quest, Prince Markus. I shall follow you to the end. You shall have the service my shield and my sword to protect you on the way.

I, too, shall see this evil put to an end! declared Arerys Wingfield, standing proudly to represent the Elfkind.

Lando Bayliss rose from his chair as he spoke with conviction, I shall serve on behalf of King Augustyn and the fine people of Cedona.

And I, for my King and the good citizens of Darross, announced Faria Targott, bowing respectfully to Sebastian.

Ah, this is all well and good. I applaud your unity, commended Lindras, nodding in approval, but there is one thing you forget. Only the pure of heart can handle the Stone of Salvation; one whose hands have not been soiled by the blood of others. He must be willing to give his life for another, when all others may deem that life unworthy. Is there any one of you in this great hall able to make such a claim?

Lindras is correct, sighed Kal-lel, with great disappointment. Though our intentions are honourable, I know each of us have bloodied our hands in battle. I, for one, have claimed more lives than I care to remember.

Bromwell slumped back into his chair as he pondered this dilemma.

What to do, Lindras? lamented the King. What to do? There is not one person I know with the strength or heart to take on this task.

The room was filled with profound silence as each reflected on their own past and the blood they had spilled in the name of king and country. But in this silence, Lindras, his eyes closed and his mind deep in thought, reached out to Markus’ heart. There is one.

Prince Markus glanced up at Lindras, hearing his unspoken words.

There is one… Markus repeated, but barely in a whisper.

Lindras, his eyes now open, met the Prince’s stare. The Wizard bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Markus scrutinized the faces of all who shared this table, searching the eyes and hearts of those in his presence, when from beside him, a small voice spoke up, I shall go with you, my lord. I shall carry the Stone of Salvation for you.

Markus turned to see his young servant and squire, Ewen Vatel staring at him in earnest as the sudden recollection of this boy risking his own life to save the life of an injured falcon flashed in his mind.

This is no time to speak in jest, Ewen, warned Markus, shaking his head in disapproval.

Please, my lord, I speak the truth. Though I am nothing more than your humble servant, I am indebted to you, continued the boy. When no one else was there to care for me after my father died, it was you who had shown me kindness and mercy. Please, allow me to repay my debt to you.

The silence was broken by a sudden burst of laughter as the men looked on at the young servant. They were quick to dismiss his offer as Kal-lel, Arerys and Lindras continued to listen in silence to this boy’s plea.

Do you have a death wish, boy? scoffed Faria Targott, his eyes rolling in frustration. It is not as though we are going on some jolly romp into the country.

I know, answered Ewen. And no disrespect to you, Captain Targott, but no one ever wishes to die. My only wish is to help Prince Markus on this quest.

We are going to war, young sir, warned Lando, speaking in no uncertain terms. This is not an adventure for the faint of heart. Many are fated to die in this war.

Captain Bayliss is quite right. The battlefield is no place for a child, admonished Augustyn, shaking his head in disapproval as he scrutinized Ewen. And if you try to convince me that you are an adult, then either you are a scarecrow of a man, stunted for his years, or you are just that: A child. I bet you have not even seen twelve winters!

Fourteen, Your Highness, corrected Ewen, but it will be fifteen, should I survive this quest.

To embark on this mission with men experienced in warfare will be a fool’s errand for one such as you, cautioned Lando.

Though I am not a seasoned warrior as you are, Captain Bayliss, admitted Ewen, I believe my heart is stout enough to help where I am needed.

It seems the young master’s mind is as determined as his heart is stout, assessed Darius, staring over at the boy he had known since Ewen was a toddler. Inwardly, he admired Ewen, as he remained unflinching under the close scrutiny and ridicule of his fellow knights. It was a quality this boy had undoubtedly inherited from his father, a man Darius truly respected in life.

"This boy’s determination will only get his stout heart skewered on the sharp end of a Talibarrian’s sword, snorted Faria, taking another jibe at the boy as he laughed once more. His intentions are good, but they will be the death of him, I can promise you that!"

Make fun if you wish, said Ewen, choosing to ignore the taunts; my offer to the Prince of Carcross stands. I would be honoured, if he accepted it.

For Markus, his emotions continued to reel, momentarily stunned by Ewen’s sacrifice. He looked him in his youthful face, smiling as he addressed the boy, You are your father’s son, my young friend. Your father was a loyal knight and a trusted friend, dedicating his life to my father’s service. You owe me nothing. You are an innocent; do not let your heart be caught up in the affairs of hardened men and tested warriors.

The laughter was cut short; abruptly stifled by the resonating ‘crack’ of Lindras’ staff striking the floor in frustration.

"Prince Markus, do you not see? He is the one! exclaimed Lindras, his great hand resting firmly on Ewen’s slight shoulder. Unlike us, this boy’s hands have never been soiled by the blood of another. His heart is pure. His innocence shall be his armour to shield him against the evils that has touched us all."

Markus looked aghast at the Wizard. He is just a boy – a child! I cannot ask him to do this, Lindras!

You did not ask Ewen to do this. He willingly makes this sacrifice for you.

Where I am a man and I have known that one day, this was to be my fate; that I would be made to face evil as King Brannon once did, I am fully aware of what may be in store for me. I am prepared to face Beyilzon. For you, Ewen, you do not even have the slightest inkling of what horrors may await you in accepting this task.

But I will find the courage to do so, promised Ewen.

Staring into the boy’s innocent, brown eyes, Markus attempted to reason with him once more. Ewen, you are not bound to this duty. This is not a wise choice you make for one so young, if you wish to live to manhood.

But if the Dark Lord returns and he is not stopped, is it not true that life as we know it will be no more? questioned Ewen.

If the prophecies hold true, then yes, admitted Markus. Beyilzon shall cast a long shadow across the lands, plunging us into darkness.

Does it not stand to reason that if I do not at least attempt to help you by carrying this Stone, then we are doomed to a terrible fate, anyway? If that be the case, I will not be the only boy in this realm who will not grow to manhood.

I recommend you change your mind while you still can, urged Markus, his hand drawing down his woeful face as he struggled to dissuade the boy.

My mind is made up, my lord, stated Ewen, speaking with complete conviction.

Do not be a fool, Ewen! scolded Markus.

Do you consider my father a fool for having been in King Bromwell’s service? questioned the boy.

Of course not.

"Then how can I be a fool for wanting to be of service to you, my lord, when what you do is in the name of all humanity?"

Markus shook his head in despair as he listened to Ewen argue his point.

My lord, for some the choice is easy and the path is clear, stated Lindras, attempting to ease Markus’ mind of this rising tide of guilt, for others, the choice is already made for them. This boy’s destiny is tied to yours.

Dropping to his knees before Prince Markus, Ewen pleaded, My lord, I will go with you. I fear no evil as long as you are by my side. With these brave and noble knights in our company and Lindras’ staff to guide us, I have no reason to be afraid of undertaking this quest!

I believe the young sir’s mind is made up, Prince Markus determined the Wizard.

I dare say, sighed Kal-lel, nodding in agreement. I do believe we have no choice in this matter. Time is of the essence. I know none qualified for this task, and if they did, none who will willingly volunteer to undertake it.

"Assuming this Stone of Salvation is not some monumental obelisk and therefore can be carried by a child, though I have killed to maintain peace for the greater good and I try to remain pure in the sense of remaining chivalrous as a dutiful knight should be, perhaps I can be charged with this task," offered Darius, now realizing Ewen was serious about embarking on this perilous quest with them.

You should be commended for this selfless gesture, praised Lindras, bowing his head in appreciation to Darius, but handling the Stone of Salvation by anyone other than an innocent will have dire consequences.

How dire? questioned Darius.

Death… And it can be quite instantaneous or slow and lingering, but equally and excruciatingly painful either way, revealed the Wizard. It all depends on how pure one’s heart truly is and how long the Stone has been handled in one’s hands.

Hmph, perhaps I am not a suitable candidate after all, grunted Darius, scratching his head in thought. If I dropped dead all of the sudden, I will be rather useless in protecting Prince Markus. It shall defeat the purpose of embarking on this quest in the first place.

Then it is done, said Bromwell, with a nod of approval to Ewen. Young Master Vatel shall be appointed to guard and carry the Stone of Salvation for my son!

With the new Order in place and the Alliance restored and affirmed, King Bromwell ordered his staff to prepare the horses and supplies for the long journey ahead. As darkness had fallen upon the land with unsettling swiftness, beds were made ready for his guests on this night.

*****

In the soft glow of a lantern, Ewen watched in amazement as Lindras hand-fed the falcon that now perched contentedly in the corner of his room. With the leather hood that shielded her eyes now removed, the bird eagerly accepted the offering of food. She swallowed the meat whole, holding larger pieces in her talons as her sharp, hooked beak tore more manageable strips of flesh for her to swallow.

She is a lovely, little falcon, praised the Wizard, inviting the boy to come closer.

What manner of spell did you cast upon this bird to make her so tame, Lindras? questioned Ewen, as he crept toward the Wizard and the small raptor.

It is no magic, my boy. This bird is quite tame. She already has a master. See… He pointed to the narrow strips of leather that were fastened around the falcon’s ankles. If you look upon these jesses. There are letters, N T, stamped upon the leather.

N - T, repeated Ewen, pondering this mystery. I wonder what they stand for?

Your guess is as good as mine, my young friend, responded Lindras, his fingers gently stroking the bird’s soft feathers. It may be a place. It may be someone’s initials. What is for certain is that I do not have the power to make this falcon speak to unravel this mystery for us.

Will she mend? asked Ewen. With great interest he continued to think on the letters branded onto this leather strip.

She shall be fitter than you or me in no time! Her wing received only minor damage, but she was extremely hungry and thirsty, as though she had been on a long journey with no time to rest, let alone eat or drink, answered the Wizard. King Bromwell’s staff shall care for her in our absence. She will be released once she is well enough to take flight.

This is a beautiful bird befitting royalty, stated Ewen. Did the members of nobility arriving today speak of a lost bird?

No, they did not. She may be the bird of a hunter from a field afar. But enough about the falcon, young sir! Tomorrow, we leave the safety of Carcross for perils unknown.

Yes, we do.

Are you not afraid?

Why should I be? asked Ewen, as he packed what little possessions he held dear into his pack. I am confident no harm shall come to me with both you and Prince Markus by my side. I do not have any reason to fear.

Peering into Ewen’s naive, young eyes, Lindras shook his head as he responded, Either you are a fool or you are braver than most, my lad, for even I fear this journey.

*****

Will you die for him?

Ewen bolted upright from his bed. His heart thundered in his chest as his eyes snapped open, darting about in confusion. They searched his bedchamber for the one who had whispered these haunting words that still echoed in his ears, sending a chill down his spine.

Glancing about, as the golden seams of sunlight seeped through the cracks of the window shutter, all Ewen could see was his pack, readied for the trek. In the corner of the room, the falcon was perched on her stand as she waited for a morning meal.

I must have been dreaming, decided Ewen, realizing he was alone. Throwing back the counterpane, he unleashed a great yawn as he slowly stretched his dormant muscles. His eyes suddenly widened as he leapt out of bed. Oh, no! I am late!

Ewen readied himself with haste, throwing on his vest as he raced down to the dining hall.

As the cool bite of the last winter night lost its sharp edge with the warmth of the coming spring sun, the men of the Alliance had gathered once again. They were well into their breakfast when Ewen had finally arrived.

With the greatest care, he attempted to discreetly take his place as servant behind King Bromwell’s chair.

What is the meaning of this, young man? Why do you stand there? queried Bromwell, staring with raised eyebrows at Ewen.

I am sorry, Your Highness, apologized Ewen. He spoke in a small voice as his head bowed contritely. I beg your forgiveness. I slept not well last night and now, I am late to serve you.

Bromwell laughed heartily, motioning for Ewen to step forward. That was not what I meant, my good lad. You are now a member of this Order. You must take your place at the table immediately!

Surely you jest, my liege.

I am the King of Carcross; therefore, I have a reputation to uphold. It is not in my nature to speak in jest.

But I am merely your humble servant, Ewen replied meekly, still standing at his usual place – his head bowed low in respect.

No, Master Vatel. From this day forward, you are the servant of mankind. Take your place next to Darius. Do not argue with me, ordered Bromwell, motioning Ewen to the empty chair at the table situated between Prince Markus and Darius Calsair.

The room fell silent. All eyes watched as Ewen Vatel, the King’s servant and Markus’ squire, timidly crept to the empty seat. Darius pushed the heavy chair back to allow the boy to take his place.

As Ewen sat down, a sense of importance befell him, even as his feet barely reached the floor as he sat back in his chair. He never dreamed in his entire life that he, a commoner, would be sitting amongst such noble kings and brave knights. His eyes were wide open in awe, staring across the vast table at the faces of the great men and Elves gazing back at him.

Go on, urged Darius, reaching for the basket of freshly baked bread to pass to the boy. You better tuck in before Captain Bayliss eats everything.

Ewen smiled nervously, nodding in agreement, but he didn’t know where to start. His eyes darted from the steaming bread slathered in freshly churned butter to the poached quail eggs next to the platter of smoked ham and sausages, back to the faces of the kings and knights sharing this table and meal.

It is better to eat now, gawk later, Ewen, suggested Markus, as he motioned for a servant to fetch Ewen a plate. There is much to be done before we leave and this may be the last decent meal you shall eat in a very long time. Enjoy it while you can.

Yes, my lord, said Ewen. He took great care not to wolf down his food, making mental note of those whom he shared the table with, and their impeccable manners.

Bromwell pushed aside his unfinished meal. Before we commence with this trek, we must devise a route that shall ensure those we send forth on this quest arrive at the temple on Mount Isa with the greatest expedience.

Speed is not the only matter we must consider. Though the most direct route is obviously the fastest and shortest, these roads shall be watched carefully by Beyilzon’s spies, reminded Kal-lel.

Then what would you suggest? asked Sebastian, looking to the Elf for an answer.

After careful consideration, Kal-lel answered this mortal’s question. Arerys and I shall guide the members of the Order into the safety of Wyndwood. It shall be a three-day’s journey, if we leave this morn.

And then we journey to the north on to Talibarr? questioned Markus.

No, replied Kal-lel. From Aspenglow, I shall set you on a course that will deliver you to Mount Isa in the Cathedral Mountains. Once you acquire the Stone of Salvation from the Temple of the Watchers, Lindras shall continue on eastward, escorting you to Mount Hope.

That is certainly a round-about route we shall be made to take, noted Lando, between bites of food.

"It is a necessary route, responded Kal-lel. And as we had discussed last night, you shall move in secret. The fewer to know of the route you travel, the safer it be for all."

I agree, said Prince Markus. King Kal-lel and Prince Arerys know the unmarked trails and paths throughout Imago better than anyone. Lindras knows the way, too, as he is one of the few to make the perilous trek to Mount Hope.

The newly appointed members of the Order and the kings of the old Alliance nodded in agreement. The first leg of this long, perilous journey was about to begin.

*****

As Ewen and the men accompanying Markus made ready for their departure from King Bromwell’s castle in the heart of Carcross, the bright, golden sun moved steadily above the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Iron Mountains as it travelled to the west.