Dragons Arising

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I most profoundly thank and acknowledge D. Shores for her tireless commitment in supporting me in this entire process. Without her, there would be no Dragons Arising. Also, I am indebted to t. j. gallagher, my mentor. The Berean School of the Bible has been a wonderful blessing in helping me grow in Christ. Special thanks to Brad Platt.

This book is dedicated to my two precious children, Lauren Michelle and Kristopher Scott; I shall love you eternal.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Maps

Dwarven Runes

Elven Script

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Author’s Note

Author’s Biography

Appendix

Prologue

The second coming of Christ was heralded as a roar from a triumphant predatory feline, like the great lion of Judah. His entrance was bold, exhibiting a firmness of character that left no doubt as to who had returned. As if overnight, a new constellation appeared. The astronomers of the ancients could not have missed it; however, they were not needed because this celestial apparition was visible with the naked eye. It was as a king, with a brilliant crown on a great white horse. Over time, the object increased in size and brilliance for all to behold. The initial stage of the apocalypse had been thrust upon mankind by the super corporations. Through political sellouts and lobbying they had finally succeeded in assuming control of the populations under the thinly veiled rule of national governments.

The first and second signs were the wars. There were the nationally internal wars, arising from civil discontent and the agitation of having people turned into numerical values instead of souls. The second aspect was the international corporate military wars for black gold, the noir liquid that the entirety of the world had become addicted to. The corporate engines had an outrageous thirst for the almost depleted natural resource, drinking deeply. The necessity of that fuel to commerce was as vital as a man’s very own lifeblood.

The scope of the conflicts combined with the tenaciousness to win at any cost saw the juggernauts of corporate entities unleash a myriad of chemical and biological agents that poisoned the whole of terra. The mutations created from the introduction of engineered weapons brought forth a plague of blood from the jungles of old. It was a torturous death. Humans would leak blood from every orifice including their pores, until at last their chests would rise no more. Food and water were such a scarcity that as a species we could barely subsist. The combination of these diminished necessities inaugurated another round of widespread death; these were the third and fourth signs.

There was a great cry from the many religions of old. A sharing of a common bond and a sudden realization of unity, although too late to prevent what had already begun. The cry of the martyrs went out from nation to nation, continent to continent, as they realized we were, are, all of the one true God. Thus was the fifth sign.

Sol was blackened and Luna burned crimson red as the recently emerged constellation began its devastation. The comets’ impacts occurred in such a rapid succession, with such an overwhelming force, that all but a few had been extinguished from the face of the planet. Each impact resonated through the atmosphere like a heavenly trumpet being sounded, six of them to present. Earthquakes decimated the land, instantaneously swallowing great mouthfuls of habitation to never be seen again. Concerts of crustal upheavals punctuated the gaping wounds from the sinking earth. The last of the points

from the celestial crown continued to approach, the seventh and final trumpet waiting to be played.

The last recorded date that is known to man was 2193. There were remnants of civilization that attempted to persevere for some time after these events; however, eventually all traces of the ancients were virtually erased. They had been proud of their great strides in technology and the sciences, especially genetics. Little were we to know how much of the Fey races were in our DNA from times past when we had been fresh out of Eden. No one could have expected, nor considered, how capable the Lord had made us as vessels for His divine energy. He was kind and benevolent, filled with love for his children. As the great evil began to rear its ugly head, He started to imbue those of us worthy enough with the ability to release His energy through prayer, not dissimilar to the magic of legend.

This is how the new earth began to rise as recorded by the 144,000; sealed by Yahweh.

Chapter I

No one has ever been able to say how it came about its name; however, the Inn of the Laughing Dwarf was as old as any could recall. It stood strong and true, made of ancient bricks once known as concrete. The blocks were the size of wagons, looking almost like granite and nearly as strong. Occasionally you could spot its intersecting brown roots, almost as if it was naturally grown, looking like a crisscross pattern. No one now knows how the ancients created this rock, but through the ages it remained. The interior of the inn was that of dark polished oak, through and through, in which a young human lass named Auren took great care. Her younger brother, Ristoph, owned the inn now since the demise of their father, Eneth of the Axe, during his last great campaign. The inn sat in a small village known as Halfway; which, as its name implies, sat halfway in between the cities of Hunting and Charles, rebuilt on the ruins of ancient Huntington and Charleston, West Virginia. It was a well traveled route and generated much revenue for the siblings and their father, when he was alive.

Great things were coming for the human siblings Ristoph and Auren as they went about their daily routines at the Inn of the Laughing Dwarf when in walked a stern looking dwarf and his companion, a happy-go-lucky halfling. The odd looking pair took up rest in the back corner facing the door. The dwarf called out loud the one word a dwarf will call out at any place or time….Ale! The halfling concurred and said, Yes, please. As Auren approached, the grim looking dwarf let out a, harrumph, ale!

Yes of course, but what kind may it be, for we have dark and light, spiced and sour, sweet and fizzy, but most definitely Dwarven.

Need you ask me lassie? Please pour me the blood of my kind, declared the retired dwarven general Karthax, who along with his wife and halfling best friend had become the adoptive dad of the siblings.

With a smack of the hand, Auren promptly scolded the halfling as he fingered her tip pouch where she had stuck a shiny trinket; an ivory pen.

Now see here Weasel Fur, should you have the manners of our good dwarf Karthax here perhaps my service would be quicker. As it is, I must now check my coin purse, quipped Auren.

My dear Auren, I had a pen such as that and I only wish to see if it was from the same maker.

Karthax groaned knowing his ale would now be delayed as Auren laughed and blew the halfling a kiss. Ristoph was shaking his head at the bar because nothing ever changed at the Inn of the Laughing Dwarf.

Shortly after Karthax had finished his eighth ale, the door to the inn opened with a deliberate thud and there stood an elf of local renown; although a stranger to the inn. He had a kind and knowledgeable look on his face, yet there was also an air of annoyance in his stance. The elf looked around the inn until he spied the pair in the corner and then, shaking his head with a smile, he began a prayer. All eyes then turned to the halfling. The dwarf leaped up rapidly, shoved the table over, knocked all the empty mugs onto the floor and headed towards the elf with his arms outstretched. Weasel Fur fell back into his chair paralyzed, his eyes wide in surprise, a smile half formed on his face, and a protest halted in midsentence as the prayer was released.

Now see here Ahger Bloomanth, be ye a cleric or not I told you not to cast on Weasel Fur whilst I be in close proximity, stated Karthax.

Would you have me let the Halfling get away to hide my possessions while you are afforded the leisure of time?

Harrumph, Ahger, harrumph, nay. Couldn’t you find another way to deal with our friend? He means you no ill.

Nor do I bid him ill, as you well know. However, he must learn that when it comes to items of the clergy, he must take heed and mind his nature, be it innocent enough.

Well put, elf. Sit and I’ll buy you a soft cider, said Karthax.

The two headed towards the table which was now being straightened by Auren. Weasel Fur had been put right in the chair, although still held firmly by the prayer, as business returned to normal. Ahger took the ancient cross off of the halfling’s neck and placed it around his own where it rightfully belonged as Karthax laughed.

So cleric, how long be this one, asked Karthax.

I put a longer one on him today that should last well into the night. I don’t believe we’ll need to make him wait that long, although it would serve him right, said Ahger.

There was much laughing. As Auren brought the ale and cider, Ristoph sat and joined the group.

It’s been a long time since you’ve favored our inn with your presence, Ahger. Surely you could have apprehended Weasel Fur after he had finished, stated Ristoph.

That would appear to be the case, but haste is now due. The High Brother of my order does now task me with a matter of great urgency, said Ahger.

Great Maker, interjected Karthax, the last time the High Brother sent one from your order on such a geas all were lost with hardly a story of the happening. That party of adventurers was last seen at the costal port of New Ashville.

Tis true, indeed. My time for quest has arrived. The nature of the quest I dare not say, even in this trusted establishment, for the minions of the dark one be at hand. This much I shall say…that good friends will I need. Ristoph, your father and I traveled together often and well. I know you have a life here so I do not easily make my request. In offering you the adventures of your father I am also placing you at risk.

Thank you Ahger. I do so wish to travel but what of the inn and my sister, said Ristoph.

Of that I do believe you will be surprised, said the cleric.

Indeed brother, for I will also be on the quest, replied Auren with a grin from ear to ear.

Ristoph was nearly dumbfounded at this startling revelation from his elder sibling. His appearance was not unlike that of the frozen Weasel Fur.

It is true, your sister’s studies with me are nearly complete and her time for being an acolyte is here. Your father Eneth’s blood runs in her as well Ristoph, and to quell her desire to emulate him would be to constrict her very soul, declared Ahger.

Our father would not have us abandon that which he labored at for so long, said Ristoph.

Indeed lad, indeed. That is why me beautiful wife Stathecy will mind the inn. It took no pullin’ of the beard to obtain her consent. You know she is always there for ye, my adopted loves, replied Karthax.

Ahger spoke next. Karthax Hammerfist, we have your axe. Ristoph Costal, we have your bow and strong arm. Auren Costal, we have your healing prayers as well as mine. There is also Mr. Weasel Fur’s fingers and eyes which have never let us down. Though I must ask, dare we seek the aid of our friend from the other House of God? The head of my order here in the Knight States believe I should, but I falter, remarked Ahger.

Harrumph, I believe we must request his assistance in this adventure, even if in doin’ so we bring about some degree of turmoil. I fear without him, we would be grossly lackin’ of the full spectrum of prayers granted us by the Lord. I understand that his past may be clouded with indecision, but at no time did he leave the true path, replied the dwarf.

The troop all concurred and it was decided to contact the other cleric in the morning. With a simple wave of his hand Ahger released Weasel Fur from the prayer as the group all laughed laboriously at the halfling’s finally completed sentence, Just on my way to bring it back!

With the onset of morning, Karthax, Weasel Fur and Ahger all met at the appointed spot at the old well in the center of Halfway. Its marble sides and iron rigging opposed one another in such a unique fashion as to bring about a quiet inspiration in the marriage of the two materials that now only a dwarf and elf could do. The well stood as a symbol for what could be done when friendship and cooperation reigned. A sign of the Ancient’s read, Department of Sanit. It was cast iron but the true meaning of the whole phrase had been lost from time because of weapons no longer known. It was believed that the symbol was the great seal of an order of Knights from old. The villagers of Halfway believed the presence of the Order could still be felt, for when any attempted to explore the well, they were prone to falling asleep. If attended to in time, these villagers would revive unharmed; however, those foolish enough to venture in alone were never to be seen again.

Some time ago, when Karthax was but a child, a party of four entered. After not more than two hours, there was a great rumble in the earth which brought forth a tremendous amount of smoke and dust from the wellhead. Some said that the spelunkers must have surely fallen to the bowels of the earth with the rumbles and smoke coming from indigestion after the consumption of such a nefarious party. The clergy of old protested, saying the party’s way was well lit by many a good torch!

The three members strolled past the mortician’s parlor on the north side of the road. It was there that Cark Meavland practiced his grim profession with a smile and the courtesy of a saint; yet, rumors did abound at the possibility of a ghoul living in the innocent guise of the mortician. Next, on the north side stood the simple Temple of God in which cleric brother Ahger presided. Through the open entrance you could see his diligent acolytes working ever so patiently, cleaning and talking to the occasional passers-by. It was a humble temple. Nevertheless, fine intricacies and ornate carvings were prevalent in key locations, thus emphasizing the simplicity of the Deity God, while also evidencing his glory and might. On the open doors were carved the Star of David and the Cross of Yeshua, Jesus. The symbol represented the uniting of the two Houses of God after the appearance of the new constellation and sounding.

First, all the Houses of David put aside their differences and almost simultaneously the various Houses of Yeshua did the same. The gapping span of division was then closed between House David and Yeshua; all realizing we share the same Father, God. It was truly a gift from the Lord, a melting of the scales that had covered our eyes. The Nations rejoiced.

Following the holy house, was the residence of Deslile. The single named human had a past known to none, save him. He had appeared out of the blue one day, bearing documents from the Church which granted him leave to reside separate from the temple proper and relieving him from any of the tedious and mundane activities of the temple’s daily business. As expected, this brought much speculation from the locals. There was even more to the controversial brother. At great expense, with his own funds, he had his domicile constructed to resemble the antiquated Middle Eastern minarets. These were painted golden while the stucco walls were of the whitest white. The door was steeped and also had the Holy symbol of the Church United emblazoned on it.

Ahger approached the entrance first with Karthax and Weasel Fur in the rear. Upon their close proximity to the door, a yellow haze formed before them and condensed into the form of a great masculine feline native to the savannahs of New Egyap and Safrica. Once fully coalesced, it spoke in a regal voice, Come, enter, you will find the threshold unbarred. Please take a seat and I shall be with you momentarily. The form dissipated as quickly as it had appeared leaving Weasel Fur laughing aloud. He was always fascinated with prayer magic; unless of course, he was the primary target. Karthax on the other hand nodded his head in a negative fashion; for even though dwarves greatly loved God, they were still skeptical of some of those whom practiced being the direct vessel of Yahweh. Ahger took special note of this variance of a common prayer.

There was no true foyer to speak of; rather, a grand room was located just off from the entrance with plush pillows the size of small beds and a table in the middle created to accommodate one’s sitting on the pillows. The walls here were lined with shelves containing a copious amount of literary works, those being mainly of a relatively modern aspect since most ancient texts were secreted away in hidden recesses. The conversation amongst the three was light in anticipation of the arrival of Deslile; however, the stares were heavy from the dwarf and cleric, which focused on one Mr. Weasel Fur Ivy Patch.

The halfing had been named so, if one couldn’t guess, because he was as difficult as a weasel to catch and on the odd chance someone did or could apprehend him, they were left with the distinct impression of having been inflicted with a nuisance such as the lasting effects of poison ivy. As though it was willed upon him by his friends, the halfling turned away from the shelves. As he did so, a faint shimmer of light caught his braided long dark hair, highlighting the boyish features that were common to his kind. The olive brown skin, which suited him so well with his chosen skill set, normally aiding him to blend into his environment effortlessly, also sparkled momentarily. His buckskin leggings, light green shirt and brown vest seemed unaffected, as did also the intricately carved staff he carried wherever he went. Fortunate as it seemed, the rascal did not receive the opportunity to study the texts in the detail he would usually afford something that tweaked his interest, that being temporary possession, when in walked Deslile.

Deslile was clothed in the monastic accoutrements of his seemingly unique order. The garments were trimmed in angelic script and as always contained the starcapped cross. His head was down and his bright green eyes brought emphasis to his rounded face. His hair was cut short, almost to the scalp and his stature was that of a man that rarely missed dinner with the mass of his body being firm. His holy symbol adorned his neck and was gold cast, shining brilliantly with an aura of confidence and faith projecting from the brother.

Good dwarf and friend, halfling, the latter sticking to his tongue. I bid you well. My prayer tells me that you have searched me out for a geas of substantial note that requires my specialization. If I may inquire, why not seek out others of the cloth more similar to yourself, asked Deslile.

Sitting next to Karthax, Weasel Fur was eyeing the dwarf’s leaf and pipe. Karthax readjusted to compensate and Ahger replied, Dear brother, I fear the purpose and urgency of our task will indeed require the skill and professionalism of one of your knowledge in order to further insure the success of this vital expedition. You need also know that the high brother of my order has agreed with my decision, in good faith, to permit your special order joint access to that which we seek, stated Ahger.

So then, it is true, you do seek the numerous texts of Yahweh from the Torah and Holy Bible, which have been lost since the time of the ancients, remarked Deslile.

Hearing this, Karthax and Weasel-Fur stared at each other with amazement and the halfling let loose a squeal of glee. Yes, but speak of this not again, said Ahger sternly looking at Weasel-Fur. We fear the dark one hears even the hint of such matters and with the demise of the church’s last great quest, we dare not risk such a catastrophe again.

Well said. I shall once again abide by the pacts agreed upon by all the houses in order that we may glorify Him that is on high, thus hoping to recover a semblance of the original voice of our God, stated Deslile.

Thank you, my odd, but true friend, replied Ahger.

The unique cleric bowed and with that the atmosphere eased. Karthax, as usual, let out a harrumph, his shoulders relaxing with the ease of stress as the halfling’s eyes gleamed from the anticipation of trinkets new, old, lost and rediscovered. Deslile clapped his hands and his acolyte brought out food and drink for all, which consisted of a bounty of cheeses, bread, sausage and a deep red wine. After the serving of the consumables, the acolyte gracefully humbled herself and politely asked her master if they needed anything else. Once complete, she retired to her studies and then the particulars were discussed by Ahger.

The high brother said that a scholar of the church was recently apprised of the possible location of a facility of higher learning relating to God and the ancients. The senior members believe this will reveal the possible original location of the holy city once known as the Vat in Khan. Many an acolyte was lost to the old heartland of our Knight States. With much care and without any knowledge of the true purpose, the elves and dwarves gave us aid in the clergy’s trek; however, in the end the demon serpent Tlaltecuhtli cast its vile breath on all but a few as they slept. The rest fled back into the wilderness for their lives. The dragon seemingly appeared overnight in the lands of Diana in the region of South Bend. We cannot ascertain anymore for the village was totally destroyed by the creature’s wrath. There is but only a partial map made from the memories of a hasty and terror-filled flight. We do believe that the name of this once great citadel of light to be Not Re Dam. It is rumored to be the house of green and gold!

Weasel-Fur nearly aspirated on his own saliva over the suspected wealth of such a find and as typical, the dwarf was shaking his head in approval at the thought and expectation of the forthcoming battles with the denizens of evil.

But this is only the beginning, for once we have obtained the necessary information, we will be heading to the port city of Pitsberg and we’ll then set sail to the original world of the ancients Eunion, or even possibly New Egyap, declared Ahger.

Deslile then remarked on Tlaltecuhtli. Indeed, the foul serpent should show its head again. It has been quite some time since she brought forth such deliberate and precise a strike. Brother, do you not wonder if the dark one does not take a direct interest in the fouling of our plans before they can even begin?

Karthax interjected, Harrumph, indeed, harrumph. Bring forth this wretched servant of evil so I may show her the light of our God courtesy of me mighty dwarven axe! How me clansmen and our elven allies anticipate the fall of one of the heralds of wickedness. Allow me to get word to me people so that a strategy may be implemented. When we arrive at the citadel the dragon will surely be aware of our presence and the time of action will then be upon us.

Well spoken my friend. Perhaps Deslile has a way to communicate this to the dwarves, in their bastion of light in the mountains, through prayer? If so, it will permit them to confer with the elves in order to hasten the demise of the serpent, said Ahger.

I shall do just that, stated the mysterious brother of the church. I suggest we provision ourselves for the journey ahead with as much as possible. We do not know what stores the dwarves will have, being that they constantly live with the threat of goblinoids, orcs, and trolls. Weasel-Fur, please make a list with Karthax and Ristoph. Go to the mercantile and quarter our supplies. I also suggest beginning with the acquisition of our mounts and their tackle.

Blasted horses! exclaimed the beloved dwarf, Bahhhh.

All but Karthax laughed aloud as he began to puff feverishly on his pipe in anticipation of his self-perceived, self-believed divine begotten penance. All people of all races and all lands know at least one thing about dwarves and that is that no matter how much they may protest the truth, they absolutely deplore being on a horse. The other thing most understand about this stout race of beings is that they loathe getting tossed.

Chapter II

Weasel-Fur and Karthax left the two clergy to their meditations. The halfling also enjoyed a pipe as they went to meet the siblings at the inn. After a few minutes of relaxing and taking in the beauty of God’s creation the duo made their way over to the Laughing Dwarf, being influenced in part by the heat of Sol as all now called the star our earth was blessed with. Iz Evans was rocking on the deck of the walkway in front of his apothecary on the south side of the road. In the not so distant past, Iz would accompany Eneth of the Axe but was finally smitten by a local beauty by the common name of Ancy. The couple had three children with much potential, due in no small part because of the blessed wife’s dedication. Rounding the corner past the mercantile, they spotted the constable of the village. It seemed he had just returned from the keep, which he did every day about this hour, having given his report to the garrison commander of this detachment of the Knight States. He gave a nod of his head and entered the jail. A short bit more and they entered the inn, going straight to the corner table that they called their own. No sooner had they taken their seat when Auren placed one each of their favorite beverage before them.

Auren was a fine young lady, extremely bright and quite perceptive despite her mother’s blood. Not much escaped her eyes, although she pretended otherwise the majority of the time. Casual in nature, while also respectful of her elders, she was educated much more than most, having studied with the church. There was a muscular tendency to her slender and small frame; like that of a tiny spring, tightly coiled and ready to pounce. At an early age she had started taking on much responsibility; still, she bore the load well under the tutelage of Stathecy Hammerfist. When those beautiful hazel eyes gazed upon you, her mood could be felt and many a person could attest that the color changed with her temper. There was always a wonderful smile on her face as she ambulated about with an air of confidence belonging to one much older. At present, the lass was garbed in her barmaid attire, but when she went to the field she was adorned in green and tan with God’s symbol on the chest. Her weapon of choice was a mace complimented by sling and bullets for engagements at a distance. This was no small surprise, being that as a youth she had attained an expertise unknown to most, plucking off mischievous lizard monkeys when they approached a little too close.

Then there was Ristoph, the little brother who in actuality was anything but little. He was not overly tall, nor was he short. Ristoph was solid and stout like the stones of the Ancients. He had a square jaw line with dimpled cheeks, and a face that was both strong and simple. His eyes were a deep, deep brown, almost ebony, with just a hint of light brown in his dark hair. At the moment, his style was that of an innkeep. The transition to explorer was made easy and readily by the young man. Long ago, his father, Eneth, had acquired, through deeds of his own and with the aid of the halfling, a breastplate of sturdy design and little weight. A set of leg guards just as fine made a matching set. Bequeathed to the son went an excellent example of a bastard sword. The sword was perfectly balanced and seemed to never lose its keen edge. This young warrior tended to face situations head on, directly. However, when the need arose he was extremely skilled with a long bow. It was difficult to realize how well spoken he was due to his quiet nature, choosing to bypass the luxuries of men and rather exalting in Yahweh’s simple joys. The siblings truly ached at the loss of their patriarch.

Ristoph approached his adoptive fathers, So, father dwarf, do I put on a fresh keg of ale or do we obtain supplies soon?

There is always time for an ale or four, young one, we don’t want to make too much haste this fine day lest we not put enough contemplation into the requirements of our task, said Karthax.

Little brother, I think he’s telling us to put another keg on tap, added Auren.

Weasel-Fur was still glowing with anticipation, Indeed, indeed, oh what days to come. My little bones ache with joy at such prospects. I think sleep will be ever elusive tonight as I ponder repeatedly the wonders we will view.

Auren ruffled her diminutive dad’s hair and strolled over to her dwarven mother who in fact had anticipated her husband’s desire and prepared the cask of drink. Being a lady of the dwarven type, she was well acquainted with all manner of ale, drink, spirits, cooking and innkeeping in general. The dwarven people may have decreased in height but they were a warm, nurturing, robust and hearty folk. There would be no more worries for the family business by the siblings.

Ristoph wisely allowed his dads to attend to the list as he headed upstairs to start on his equipment. He knew that when the pair was complete with their chore they would call for him. Auren also went about her own business.

It was a couple of hours later when brother and sister were beckoned and the group headed over to Rich’s mercantile. The short trip was made in no time at all and when the door was opened a bell vibrantly echoed throughout as the proprietor popped up from behind the counter where he had been placing his display of painted pewter soldiers that the children so enjoyed. Absent mindedly in response to the bells notice, he proffered the usual greeting and good tidings, that is until he saw the halfling’s twinkling gaze and followed it to the shelf of his newly displayed wares. Ristoph politely tapped the larcenous in nature, but not in spirit halfling, bringing him out of his reverie and Karthax presented the shop keep with a list of their needs. With a quick once over, Rich informed them that all requests could be placed, while also making special note of the request for a keg of dwarven stout. A few minutes of haggling then passed. For a couple of silver more the purchase was to be sent over to the stables. They thanked the slender proprietor and then headed out to check on their mounts.

The stable boy, Hodd Torton, had already started the preparation of the horses that would be sold. The young lad may not have been graced with much intellect, but what he was blessed with were heart and hands that had no equal when it came to the tending of horses. He had taken special care in selecting one for the dwarf. It was a mare of mid-age and wonderful temperament that went by the good name of Gerdi. She was a sturdy specimen and Hodd was gently persuading the creature with soft, kind words and bits of apples as he informed her of what was to come. Staring at the lad, she evidenced an intellect beyond her true capacity while nibbling the bits of fruit like the animal she was. There, there, sweet lady. You know he’s gruff, but if you lead him true he won’t be rough on you. Take heed of his anxiety; just keep steady pace with the others and take care not to spook easily. I’ll tell him to give you apple bits for your good work and before your rest. Gerdi neighed and shook her head.

Karthax, Weasel-Fur, and the siblings walked into the stable. Hodd, you best not be fitting me with a demon or demoness, hear me, for if you do and I have to, I’ll be coming back from the grave to stomp your bottom. And if the good Lord won’t see fit to permit me justice you better keep a sharp eye out for my wife, warned the dwarf.

Weasel-Fur rubbed his old friend’s back stating, I hear she is already looking for one other than you. Besides, I believe she gave the lad a silver or two to provide you with just such a beast. Easing a pipe from his lips and puffing in Karthax’s general direction," he smirked.

Gimme my pipe, you blasted kleptomaniac!

Well you haven’t got to speak to me in that tone, you old grump. I was just, ah, wanting to see how exactly it was that you made that one because it looks nearly the twin of this, said the halfling as he reached into the myriad of pouches in his vest and pulled out another pipe of striking similarity.

Great Maker, me grand pappy’s pipe! With that statement Karthax quickly reclaimed the family heirloom as everyone present chuckled in unison, except for Weasel-Fur, who was blushing a brilliant crimson with head bent low. Each then walked over to their provided ride.

Weasel-Fur, having done the same, commenced to converse with his new friend and captive audience. I tell you Wishes, they all come quick to tease me; however, I don’t ever leave them wanting when we are abroad. I can’t help it if my kin and I are ever and always inquisitive on the quest for knowledge. Such a good girl, he said rubbing the mare’s nose. I tell you what, you and I are going to have many a tale to tell. The noble halfling and his faithful mount. If we’re lucky, we can sneak off just a bit every now and then to see what we may spy. Hopefully some ruins or such. Now don’t worry, I’ll be looking out for you real good. I won’t be letting that mean old drake eat my friend. With my small and competent stature we should be able to haul a bit more than the others. Looky here girl, I’ve also got you some fine cinnamon dried apples to snack on once we start. It’ll be a grand old time, it will, what a team to beat, Weasel-Fur and Wishes, all six feet. With the proclamation complete the horse sneezed right in the halfling’s face. See, I knew you were excited!

Auren was in the stall next to Mr. Ivy Patch and was shaking her head at the joyful little guy. She loved him ever so much for his never grow up ways. The first time Eneth had introduced the two, Auren had immediately found a like spirit, her only being six years old. All was fine and good until her baby doll’s dresses went missing and she spotted the halfling with them a few days later. Weasel-Fur swore to no end that he had finally found proof of house fairies. It took all of Eneth and Karthax’s combined skills to reacquire the miniature articles of clothing. In the end all was well. He gave the wee girl a pony ride on his back that was befitting a princess and ever since that day they were friends most true.

Roughly two hours had passed with all having tended to their mounts, when the Rich’s store boy, Obby, brought a wagon over; filled with supplies. Bit by bit the equipment was off-loaded and checked in turn. Both Karthax and the halfling winking to one another as the dwarven keg was spotted. There was; however, a disturbing lack of arrows and bolts. Obby explained that the garrison had utilized almost all of late fending off the increasing number of orcish raids. Ristoph was not pleased with this turn of events, feeling it to be an ill omen.

The remainder of the evening was uneventful, as far as all knew. Deslile and Ahger made a night watch list for their adepts. Everyone made it to their own lodgings, anticipating a good night’s rest. One by one their breathing eased as they fell into the last blissful sleep they could expect for some time; all, that is, but one.

And dragon tooth necklaces, orc war paint, books of old, oh wonder and joy. So many things for sure! Not a wink did he sleep; maybe a wink - till the wee early hours of the morning, at which time he was up and about doing his last minute checks, fidgeting his pouches this way, his crossbow that way, and talking to himself all the same. So it’s to the dwarves first, then to the elves by way of the Apple Aching Mountains risen aplenty and the forest to boot till we reach the citadel of old, the great center of learning and light, Not Tree Dam, Not Tree Dam. The happy go lucky fellow carried on that way until the very second it was time to head over to the stables.

***

With a sinister smirk, from the corner of the bedroom’s woodpile arose a vile little creature with a mouth full of tiny yellow razor-like teeth. The wretched thing was known as a homonculous; made from a pinch of its dark master’s own flesh and blood. It was a sickening, mucous gray with a translucent venous system. The distinct stretch and creak of putrefied sinew cried out as it spread its wings. The creature’s blood-red eyes ever scanning for detection. It then took flight carrying with it news of the adventurers’ cause and course.

***

Ahger and Ristoph arrived just after Weasel-Fur, having returned from the keep and receiving a morning report from Knight Captain Darby. The captain reported that his lieutenant had just departed the previous night on a two week patrol with a company sized element to try and clear a route to the surrounding town of Iron, on the other side of the Hi-Oh River. The villages of Hunting and Ash had requested their own garrison to patrol but almost the entire force had been stricken with the pox, as if overnight. It seemed as though the foul minions of the dark one knew of the predicament and thus exploited the situation quite well. Upon notification, the captain had little choice but to send his troops to prevent the drive of the orcs and goblinoids. Deslile and Auren assessed this information as it became quite obvious that these seemingly random coincidences were all too probably related. As it had done so many times in the past it now looked as if the dark one was initiating another campaign of violence and chaos in the heartland of the Knight States. If this was true for this locale, then it would be true for other lands as well. The situation did not bode well for the companions, however not a one said a word about their fears, as deep as they may be.

Karthax announced in the typical dwarven fashion, Be me body filled with the wrath of my Lord to our enemies, I promise to the last hair on me beard that I shall die not easily but instead smite many for our glorious God! With that, in unison, Ahger, Deslile and Auren began to chant as the rest finished preparations for their long journey.

Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers. Not so the wicked! They are like chaff that the wind blows away. Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous. For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish. 1

At the last utterance of syllable, there was an explosive, brilliant and glorious white light as if the world had just been created