Eodur was a disappointment. Randey had assumed that a village so close to the Capital would be more grand. The homes more stylish, the people sophisticated. It appeared to him, however, to be little different from his home village of Ghaeros. The homes were well kept, that was true, but were no fancier than many of the ones back home. There were a few he saw that were similar to his own, larger and sturdier, and he supposed that they, too, were home to Grenyaar who lived here. He had to admit that the local Inn was more than he had expected. It was a sturdy, three-story structure with a decorative stone wall at the base and colorful tiles on the roof. A stable boy of about Randey’s age guided their horses to the stables as Randey accompanied the Knights inside. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light, but he found himself in a large Great Room, with polished wood panels on the walls and decorative lanterns hanging from wrought iron hooks providing light. There were a doz
The two Grenyaar blinked in surprise. Master Kolton looked from Randey to the Dragon’s huge, black head, Ghaeron’s ruby-red eyes shining. King Emerik and Queen Adalyn exchanged a look, but it was unreadable. Sir Braedon looked down at Randey, who was staring wide-eyed at Ghaeron. “I . . .” Randey stammered, “I – don’t understand. What war? How? What . . . what do you mean I am -” He swallowed. “I am the best hope ?” “Ambrose,” said the King, addressing the steward. “Have a chair brought for our guest. I fear the lad may collapse where he stands.” Ambrose bowed and quickly vanished through the side door. A moment later a servant appeared carrying a small wooden chair, placing it beside the stunned boy. Emerik smiled at him. “Please, Randey, sit down. Before you fall down.” Randey nodded absently, plopping into the seat while still staring up at the Dragon. The Knights remained standing on either side of him, eager to hear what the Guardian had to say. Ghaeron’s deep, draconic voice
Sir Andric reined in his mount. Before him lay a wide plain, with forest beyond. The jagged line of the Ohresh Mountains cut across the sky beyond the forest, the slopes covered with the green extension of the forest. Not so imposing as the Erimanthe range, but ruggedly beautiful regardless. He took a moment to have a drink from his water skin, patting his horse’s neck appreciatively. “Not far now, Kyran.” He slung the skin back over the saddle and urged Kyran forward. The stallion moved briskly, eager to cross the plain and reach the forest. Andric kept him from going too fast; he didn’t wish to give the appearance of hostility, despite their need for alacrity. They had crossed the borders of the known lands of the Minotaurs the day before. So far they had yet to encounter any of the unusual beings, but Andric had no way to know if that was unusual. No Grenyaar had ventured to their lands for nearly a century. Sir Andric kept an eye out for any signs of habitation. Any community req
Randey ducked, the blade slicing the air just above him. He spun, swinging his own sword in an arc toward his opponent’s midsection. His blow missed as his target nimbly moved back, raising his weapon in both hands. Randey straightened, panting heavily as he raised his own. The two swung at one another, the clash of their blades ringing loudly. Before Randey could recover for a second swing, his opponent dealt him a hard blow to the ribs with his elbow, and Randey went down on his back. He stared up, lifting his blade, but the other’s sword tip was at his throat. For a long moment he remained frozen, trying to regain his breath. His opponent smiled. “I yield,” said Randey. The Blade Master stood over him, saying, “As well you should.” He moved his sword and offered Randey his free hand. As he lifted him to his feet, he went on, “You still have much to learn, but in truth you are a talented fighter, Randey Edal.” He clapped the young man on the shoulder. Randey accepted the prais
Keyla’s memory of her arrival at the Citadel was etched into her mind. After the harrowing few days spent on the run with her grandmother, it had been a haven unlike anything she had expected. Her grandmother’s endurance and skill had been remarkable, far beyond what she had expected. She had always considered her the quiet, gentle old woman who taught her some basic understanding of magic. Clearly there was much more to her than that. Their reception at the Citadel had proven as much. When they stumbled onto the grounds surrounding it, a small group of young women were working a vegetable garden just outside the low wall. They were very concerned about Keyla, given her age and travel-worn appearance, and gave equal attention to the elderly woman with her. Once they were assured that neither had suffered any injury, they escorted them to the Citadel. Keyla gazed at it with wide eyes. The structure was larger than she had imagined. A castle, really, with shimmering white marble wall
The First Commander put down the message scroll, frowning. Kolton asked, “Is there a problem, Commander?” Storr shook his head. He glanced over at his guests. Luceya and Keyla sat in a pair of chairs facing his desk, their expressions neutral. “The Maajira is certain of this?” Luceya nodded. “She would not have sent any message of which she was not certain.” “Why?” asked Randey. “What is it?” Keyla glanced at him, offering a hint of a smile. He appreciated it, but he still wasn’t sure what he was doing in the meeting. The morning following the Knighthood ceremony, the First Commander had met with Luceya and they called for this meeting later in the day. It was fortunate that it was later in the day, for Randey’s head was still pounding from the previous afternoon’s revels. They had lasted well into the evening, and the newly-Knighted Grenyaar had indulged in the supply of ale and other strong drink far more than he had intended. He recalled laughing with Keyla as well as his frien
Randey slapped his horse’s neck affectionately. He had finished unsaddling the fine mare as he and his companions prepared their camp for the night. Flyta was one of the Grenyaar’s finest horses, and Randey was honored to have been given the privilege of riding her. She snorted happily as he patted her, then he stepped over to join the others at their small fire. It seemed odd somehow to be without Master Kolton’s company. The Blade Master was needed at the Hall, however, and having been Knighted Randey was deemed competent to lead the small envoy group to contact the Dwarves. The responsibility weighed upon him, but only in that he did not wish to disappoint the Master or the First Commander. Nor himself, for that matter; he felt a desire to prove himself, and continue to uphold the honor of the Edal line. With a quiet whuff he sat on the log they had dragged over beside their fire. Kale was already seated and gnawing on a piece of jerky, as Owin finished with his own mount and jo
Keyla reined in her mount. The beautiful mare, Ziara by name, was well suited to her. Keyla had taken to riding quite readily, and very much enjoyed being on horseback. The sisters at the Citadel were given training in basic riding skills, but Keyla had spent as much time as she could honing those skills, mostly because she enjoyed being around the horses. When she had requested Ziara as her mount for their journey to the Hall of Champions, the Maajira could see no reason to decline. Now she sat happily astride the even-tempered animal, gazing at the plains that lay before her. Luceya sat her own mount beside her, both Sorceresses contemplating the journey ahead. The Guardians’ message had been quite clear, and the prospect of seeking out the Jivanaar was exciting. Their lands lay to the East, past the northeastern tip of the Haedral Mountains. The two Na’Himara had spent the last ten days riding through the hilly countryside North of those mountains, taking what roads were available