betrayer (teaser)

Chapter four:
Aftermath
“We don’t really have much of a choice now do we?”  The group had congregated outside the city.  It was night now and not even the destruction before them could quiet the crickets.  They huddled around a campfire and each was seated accordingly.  Syn was propped up against Alexia’s side, still recovering from the use of the wish spell, Zaphh and Velix sat side by side, with the enormous Slaad stroking the Ice Tiger’s fur.  Kryshen lay on his back, staring at the stars.  Ben, who had spoken, stood by the fire, warming his hands.
“Indeed we do,” said Syn, who had at least recovered enough to speak easily, “we can report this attack to the king of Zendarr and we can go back to our normal, if monotonous lives.”
Kryshen laughed, a dry, sarcastic tone, “I have met many humans, and they all want help with their own problems.  If we go into that city, we will probably only come out as servants of the crown.”
Alexia looked perplexed, “why is that such a bad thing?”
“I have fairly negative experiences when it comes to serving people.” Kryshen didn’t mention that he held no love of Paladins; he figured that an angel would not share his opinion.  Zendarr was ruled by a circle of eleven Paladins with the most powerful as the King.  Needless to say, Kryshen didn’t like the idea of servitude to the prejudiced holy knights.
“I… see.”
They all fell silent for a minute as the conversation died off, each was pretending to think about their problem, but they were really waiting for one of them to ask the all-important question.  No one expected it to be Ben.
“So, Alexia, why were you in that town.”
Alexia paused, thinking on where to begin.  “About three months ago,” She started, “we were all together in our attempt to escape from the angles and Inevitables that were trying to track me and Syn down.”
“So you know all these people?”
“Of course.  We were Celestia’s elite force, we were supposed to be the unit that would strike deep into the heart of the Baator, at the Throne of Evil, where we would destroy the Lords of Hell.  We fled, because I would not bend to the Angels callous demands.” She ignored Ben’s questioning glance, even speeding up to avoid any inquisitions that might lead to the topic of the Great Sacrifice, but she did note Ben’s ignorance in the matter, “You must understand that we Angels are odd that way, we are wholly good, but we really seem to have no care for the innocents we leave dead in our wake, provided they die in our attempt to achieve a greater overall good.”
“Forgive me, but that sounds very hypocritical.”
“It is.  But that is the way of most holy beings.  Anyways, after we fled, we settled in various towns, always moving so that they couldn’t find us, we had a locket that would prevent them from finding us through divinations, one powerful enough to mask Syn’s rather distinct aura.”
“Forgive me again, but magic is beyond me, I really have no idea what you are talking about.”
“No offence taken.  Anyways… you really are distracting you know that?  Yes, anyways, we were in the town of… what was it again?”
“Lynsberge.” Syn said, grinning at the two’s private conversation, he noticed quite clearly that she was beginning to take a liking to the odd boy who had been the lone survivor in the town.
“Right, Lynsberge. Yes, we were in… that town and I… well, this is where the story gets crazy.”
“Get on with it.” Ben said and everyone scowled at him, except for Alexia, who grinned appreciatively.
“Certainly Master Ben.  In the town, Lynsberge, I told you guys that I would catch up to you in Whorrlby, right?”
There were muttered assents from Syn, Kryshen and Zaphh.
“Right, so when you left, I was investigating these guys I thought were part of the Zian Cult.”
“Zian Cult?”
“A group of heathens that are aware of the… wait, do you even know about the Great War?”
Ben looked thoughtful, but then he shook his head, “I think my parents once mentioned something about a war in the west, but I don’t know any details.”
Alexia grinned, a mean smile, “It’s a little further than ‘the west.’  This war is being fought on different planes and is a horrid bloodbath between angels and demons, and the occasional devil legion.  They are fighting over the possession of the prime material plane, the one you live on.”
“Yes, yes, I am not that dumb, I know where the Prime is in relation to the others.”
“You definitely seem the wizard type, you haughty young boy.” Alexia was surprised at his nonchalance concerning the Great War.  Most people would have been given pause by the knowledge that Demons were fighting a war that they weren’t even aware of.
“Funny.”
“I’m serious, perhaps we should have Syn tutor you.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Just… no.”
“Okay Ben, your loss.  Anyways, the Cult of Zian is the opposite of the Cult of Cirux.  On one hand, the Cult of Zian is a cult of people aware of this war, these people support the demons and even goes so far as to bind their souls with those of demons, becoming members of the demonic army; on the other hand, the Cult of Cirux is the opposed clan against them.  They bind with angels and fight for the cause of good.  On the Material Plane these members fight each other and attempt to sabotage the works of others, including the angels that visit the material plane.  Their eyes caught me, of all people.”
“You are an angel, after all.”
“That was implied.  Anyways, when I went to investigate the men I discovered a far more advanced cult that I had expected, one with over two hundred members.  It was a threat I could not rightly allow.”
“You are going to tell us you fought them off all by yourself?” an incredulous Ben asked.
Alexia laughed, “I try not to lie.  No, I did not fight them off myself; I simply retrieved the supporters in that town and the surrounding area of the Cult of Cirux, who numbered around one-fifty, and laid waste to their encampments.  We had the superior weapons, armour and tactics, and it did not take long to kill off most of them and send the rest running, best of all, the authorities blew it off as gang fighting.  That’s the great thing about shape shifters: they never retain their disguises after they die.”
“That still doesn’t tell us where you have been for the past three months.” Said Zaphh, not a trace of maliciousness in his voice.
“Sorry.  Yeah, after that I left to find you, but the thing is, Celestia has been looking for me for an awful long time, and if I suddenly lose my cloaking device, they have this weird habit of sending people to, how to say this, collect me.  It’s a shame most of those people wind up trying to kill me.”
“And after months of battling your way to our appointed meeting place, they finally succeeded in killing you?” asked Kryshen.
“Finally.  Actually, I had about a month long reprieve in Whorrlby where I stayed at the Fox Tail, waiting for you guys…”
“But we failed to show up.” Completed Syn.
“Correct.  But we are together now, and with our final big decision.”
“What do you mean, final?” asked Kryshen.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?  We have to chose, right here and now, whether or not to join the Great War.”
“Why do we have to choose?  And am I involved in any of this, am I, by association, being forced into your little posse?” asked a troubled Ben.
Alexia laughed again, “yes, you are pretty well being forced into our arms, after all, if you left, the demons would probably have your soul by the end of the first week.  And we have to choose because if we go to Zendarr, we will be forced to join fully in the battle, and even perhaps have to go back to Borrin, a Paladin King cannot be oblivious to such a large struggle between the metaphorical forces of good and evil, but if we choose to do nothing, our lives will never be silent again, and neither will our consciences.”
“Leave it to an angel to force guilt on us for killing a Lord of Hell.” Said Kryshen, smiling to show that he was joking.
Alexia laughed yet again.
Afterwards they settled into another uncomfortable silence, though this time they actually were thinking about the issue at hand.  Several ideas came up over the next few minutes, though no suggestions really had any merit.  Finally, after ten more minutes had passed, Kryshen sighed and conceded defeat, “We have to go.”
As one, the members of the circle nodded, with the exception of Velix, who just lay contentedly beside Zaphh, panting.
“Thus we shall go, to Kryshen’s ultimate disappointment, to serve in the court of a Paladin.” Said Syn.
Kryshen grinned and looked back to the stars, “Unfortunately, I agree with you, and I can’t believe I’m actually accepting this, but yeah, let’s do it.”
Ben laughed to himself, “and I’ll come with you, because I really have no choice.”
“Indeed.” Said Kryshen.
They all began to rise and set up camp.  Alexia and Syn shared a tent, and Zaphh elected to surrender his tent to Ben so the human could have a bed that would not be soaked by the morning dew.  Zaphh immediately set to building a shelter out of sticks and pine needles.  Kryshen had the last tent and Velix slept outside, simultaneously keeping watch for demons and animals looking for an easy meal.  Though the watch was hardly needed.  The night was comfortably warm and uneventful and though Kryshen’s night was long, he found it anything but restful.
As a drow, he did not sleep; instead he went into a meditative trance known as Reverie, which was far more regenerative than sleep by far.  A mere four hours was as valuable as eight hours of sleep for a human.  Halfway through the night, as Kryshen found his concentration hard to come by, he left his tent soundlessly and left to consider his confused thoughts.  There was a small pond off he the west side of camp and he approached the picturesque scene.
The grass was long and the insects incessant.  There was a large grey boulder off to the side and Kryshen approached it, he climbed on top and lay down on his back, once again staring at the stars, searching for answers in the limitless domain of the gods.
To be honest with himself, he didn’t truthfully know what had confused him so.  He continued to think and he remembered his first thoughts after he saw Alexia with Syn.  He felt emptiness, utter and complete, he didn’t figure he needed female companionship, but there was a different connection between good friends and lovers.  A certain level of openness about the weirdest of things, openness without any fear of judgment or persecution.  He longed for the relationship that Alexia and Syn had.  He slammed his fist on the rock in frustration.  He had no idea why he was suddenly so angry, suddenly so jealous.  He had never truly felt much desire for a relationship; he had felt lust, what sentient being had not, but the idea of love was foreign to his still young mind.  A drow was never given a chance to explore he feeling of love, to feel love was to be weak.  And weakness in drow culture was death.  One that you claimed to love was just as likely to put a dagger in your back as to have any feelings at all for you.  In fact, it was more likely for the woman to kill you, probably just out of pleasure or convenience.  As Kryshen thought more, he realized that there was almost no love at all in drow culture; in fact, there wasn’t even a word for friendship, let alone love.  Unless it was for the drow goddess.  The closest word to friend in drow meant ‘a partnership for mutual gain.’  Kryshen didn’t think he was desperate for companionship, just lonely.  No one had ever experienced the things he had, and he hoped that no one would.  But he still hated that aching emptiness that he felt in his heart.  He slammed his hand on the rock again.
“You couldn’t sleep either?” came a voice to the side, which caused Kryshen to jump about a foot.  When he had calmed his pounding heart enough he looked to the side, to find Alexia’s wings shining in the moonlight.  The full moon lit the pond like a bright dawn and Kryshen had no need to squint to see Alexia’s profound grin.
He draped a hand across his forehead and said: “no, actually, I came out here to find myself.”
Alexia began to laugh, and then noticed that Kryshen wasn’t joking.  Kryshen was again struck by the difference between female friends and male ones.  She immediately assumed a caring posture, and her wings folded back a bit, her face was all sympathy.  In other times it would have offended him, but now he welcomed it like water in a desert.  With a single beat of her powerful wings she joined him on the rock.  He sat up and she sat down beside him, one wing curling protectively around him.  She draped an arm across his shoulders and she stared deep into his eyes.
She sighed slightly, “What’s wrong Kryshen?”
For once he actually appreciated being treated as a child, the words and actions were in no way condescending and let him know in no small amount that she honestly wanted to help him.  He smiled a kind smile, “I’m the most lonely person in the world.”
He said it with such stark assuredness and bluntness that it took her awhile to respond.  She sat there, thinking, her arm around his shoulders, surprised that she was not uncomfortable at all.  She was glad she was having this conversation with the night elf.  The reserved warrior rarely gave her any clues to his personality, and now she truly wanted to learn about this curious creature named Kryshen.
“How are you lonely, you are surrounded by friends that accept you for what is in your heart, rather than what is in your skin.  Not only that, but you are fast making an impression on this world, soon everyone will know your name and speak it with-”
“Without knowing my pain,” Kryshen said, “you truly do not know do you?”
“Know?  What?”
Kryshen sighed and slowly rested back on the rock.  Alexia released him, but remained sitting, turning to continue staring in his eyes.  For the first time, Kryshen noticed how passionate those limpid pools of gold actually were.  Her cascading blond hair fell far past her shoulders and her form was still enticing under her loose folds of magical cloth.  Kryshen had never seen her in such a light, and the fires behind her eyes left no doubt as to why she and Syn were together.  The angel was filled with passion, and at that moment, all that passion was focused on Kryshen.  He had never felt so right, so whole in his life.  He shook his head and quickly came back to his thoughts; to the grin and knowing smile that Alexia threw his way.  Kryshen took a deep breath, “in all my years, though one century is hardly old by my races standards…”
“Nor mine.”
Kryshen nodded, “in my one hundred years, I have never felt the embrace of a woman.”
Alexia laughed lightly, and Kryshen shot her a fierce look, she apologized and bid him to continue.
“I have felt lust, I have felt pleasure, and yet love, the true feeling of love has been one of the many things I have not felt.  It is, unfortunately also one of the most painful things to have not felt.”
Alexia’s laughter died in her throat, she realized what Kryshen was going through, and she took a deep breath, “Kryshen, love is one of those things you long for endlessly, until you have it.  The agony of lost love is something I hope you never have to experience.”
Kryshen let out a burst of air that one may have described as a laugh, “I care nothing for pain, I have endured enough, and besides, I am an elf, I will almost certainly lose my love at one time or another.  Seven centuries of life is not always a good thing.”
Alexia noted Kryshen’s use of ‘my love’, rather than ‘a love,’ but she said nothing.  The romantic night elf was allowed his childhood innocence.  They sat together for a long while before Alexia had come up with something else to say, “You have to understand that love is not something you can just will into existence, a woman that you may love can come into your life as unexpectedly as she can leave, you will just have to be patient.”
Kryshen was silent a long while.  “Perhaps it is not love that I want,” he finally said, “but a deeper connection with someone.”
“And you think that connection will be stronger and… more real if it is with the opposite sex?”
Kryshen nodded, “there is something between a man and a woman than no two men could ever hope for.”
Alexia nodded, not disagreeing in the slightest.  There was one final lull in the conversation before Alexia realized that she had been there long enough.  Kryshen wanted someone to share his feelings with, but she could not solve the confusion for him.  She was just there so he could say his thoughts aloud, and so she could ask the questions he may have been afraid to ask himself… that job was done.  “We should try to get some rest.  Are you staying out here for a bit?” Kryshen nodded, “alright, do you want me to bring you some water or anything else?”
“No, I’m okay for now, I’ll catch up with you guys in the morning.”
Alexia nodded and rose, leaping lightly off the rock, using her wings to slow her descent.  She began to walk away when Kryshen’s voice stopped her, “Hey, Alexia?”
She turned back, smiling, “yeah?”
“Thanks… for everything, I don’t know where I’d be without you guys.”
Alexia nodded and returned to her tent with Syn.  She slipped quietly in the cot beside him, muttering a quick spell to rid herself of her wings.  She was utterly content.  She was more comfortable than she had been in a long time.  She realized that that conversation was for her as well.  She was surrounded by her friends, and she had never been whole without them. 
She couldn’t have possibly known the agony that would come in the next few years.
Outside, Kryshen sighed again and looked to the stars.  He finally fully realized how lucky Syn was.  Kryshen was troubled, but as he continued to think about his loneliness, his mind began to drift.  Zaphh found him in the morning, deep in Reverie, still laying on the rock.  A grin wide on his face.

Chapter five:
Cassius
Their camp had been packed away and stored on the Etheric plane by noon.  Their casters had prepared new sets of spells and five midnight black mustangs stood saddled and bridled in the clearing where their camp had rested.  Velix would run beside them, his supernatural endurance allowing him to pace them easily.  When the six were ready to depart they approached the horses, but both Kryshen and Syn hung back, Zaphh turned to them questioningly.
“I… uh, really don’t know how to ride a horse.”  Kryshen said.
“You don’t have to worry about that, I can control the horses, all you need to do is sit in the saddle.”
Kryshen nodded worriedly and stepped up to his horse, but Syn still looked uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong wizard?”  Zaphh asked.
“Those horses, they are not going to disappear an hour from now are they?”
Zaphh chuckled, “that wasn’t a conjuring spell, it was a creation one, these horses are here to stay.”
Syn nodded, relaxed, but the rest of the group looked perplexed at the magical language.  Zaphh just laughed and refused to explain it to them.  He ushered them onto their horses, even getting Kryshen’s horse to kneel down for him, but Ben still had one question: “why can’t we just teleport?”  Zaphh cocked his head, having never thought of the possibility; he turned to Syn, awaiting an explanation.
Syn smiled, “teleportation is not precisely accurate, nor is it safe.  I have, I regret to say, never been to the city of Zendarr, and my spell would be just as likely to take us to Phyras, or out to the middle of the ocean.”
Ben nodded, “yeah… let’s just ride there.”
Syn nodded and mounted his horse.  Kryshen was atop his horse, experimentally tugging the reins back and forth, delighting in the fact that he now knew how to turn.  Zaphh swung to the saddle of his horse, the magnificent horse not at all burdened by his weight.  Suddenly the druid noticed what Ben was doing.  The boy had looked into the horse’s eye, and stared intently into the horse’s mind.  Slowly, but surely, the horse kneeled in front of him, and the surprisingly multitalented human boy climbed atop his horse.  Zaphh trotted up to the boy’s horse, “where in Mother Nature’s name did you learn to do that.”
For once the boy seemed amazed at his own abilities, “I… I don’t… know.  I just looked at the horse and told him what I wanted to do, and he knelt down for me!”
“Did you thank him for his kindness?”
The boy looked down, “no… sorry.”
“Never forget to thank the animals for any service they give to you.  Even those you kill, never leave a shred of carcass, it is like saying to the animal, ‘your sacrifice was not worthy.’”
Ben nodded, “I really don’t know how I…”
“It’s okay.  Second lesson, remember this well, when you kill an animal, always remember to place a bit of food in its mouth, it will guide it to its home on the astral plane.  And nothing eases passing like a fully belly.  Remember that.”
Ben nodded, sitting a bit straighter in is saddle.  Kryshen grinned, seeing the odd exchange between the two.  The food bit made no sense in connection to the last point, but Kryshen realized the point.  That was the first lesson an acolyte druid would have to learn.  Zaphh had just taught the boy a lesson in druidic life.  The perceptive elf noticed the jealously that Syn showed on is face.  They apparently both wanted the boy as an apprentice.  Kryshen’s grin widened.
Zaphh nodded and cast a quick spell that would keep the horses from tiring, provided they didn’t full out run the whole way.  He began to ride off, but Syn called him back. “Zaphh!  Wait, I have a plan for some fun.”  Kryshen cocked his head at Syn’s sudden show of camaraderie.  This could only lead to something bad.  Kryshen gingerly steered his horse towards the wizard. The slaad and the wizard whispered together for a bit, chuckling all the while, Kryshen tried to catch what they were saying, but even his keen elf ears could not catch the conversation they were planning.  Eventually, both nodded and Syn cast a spell.  A cold wave passed over him like a curtain, but he could not figure out what the spell was.  Alexia, off to the side, with her innate abilities, saw what the spell was and giggled to herself, this was going to be a funny day.
The riding was smooth for the first couple of hours, Kryshen finally learning to maintain his posture atop his horse, despite the aching back and the horses riding steady.  Kryshen noted the ensuing contest between Zaphh and Syn for the boy’s interests and used that to keep his mind off the boredom of the voyage.  The horses were riding in a tight box formation, with their noses almost touching the horse in front of them.  Kryshen was surprised at the level of control Zaphh actually had over the horses.  Velix was in the centre of the formation for some odd reason, Kryshen was surprised the ice tiger was not trampled by the cantering mustangs.  As Kryshen continued to fail to understand the reasons behind Zaphh’s decisions he maintained his observation of the two casters attempts to win over the young human.
Midway through the day the best attempt to win Ben over took place.  Zaphh and Syn flanked Ben, riding in front.  Kryshen had listened to Syn and Kryshen argue back and forth all day about the effectiveness of both types of magic.  Now the argument was becoming hilarious: “you see Ben, the downfall of druids is that their magic is not nearly powerful enough.” Said Syn, for perhaps the tenth time.
“Sure wizard, except that our spells hold far greater versatility than any wizard could hope for.” Said Zaphh, also for about the tenth time.
“On the contrary, Zaphh, our spells are the more versatile, we can create our own spells through knowledge of the elements and of the planes, and the widely known spells have all the powers needed.”
“Yeah, except for the ability to heal dying friends.”
Syn paused for a moment, formulating a response, “indeed, however, a wizard will rarely need spells to heal-”
“Yeah, but that’s only because wizards aren’t tough enough to take a blow, they never get the chance to heal.  They just die.”
“I’m still alive, am I not?”
“Yeah, but only because you had me and Kryshen covering for you.”
“Perhaps, but what you do not realize is that doesn’t change the fact that our spells not only have the power to destroy, but also to create, divine and reanimate.  Not to mention enchant and control.  We have access to all this, while you only have access to spells that deal with nature.”
“Yes, and nature happens to be the most destructive force of all.”
Syn paused and considered for a moment, “Fine, we shall end this tomorrow druid.  I challenge you to a mage contest, Kryshen Alexia and Ben will be the judges, prepare the twelve most powerful spells you can devise and we shall see who is greater!”
Kryshen laughed and Zaphh, empowered by the contest, nodded his head viciously.  Unable to go without the last word, Zaphh said, “Yes, and then we shall have a combat contest.”
The death slaad was understandably surprised when Syn smiled a terrible grin: “certainly.”
The riding was uneventful for a couple of hours, but then something amazing happened.  The company was riding on well-traveled roads, but that was no surprise to anyone.  It was however, a great surprise when a man leaped out from a small copse of trees and stood in the middle of the road and called for them to stop.  The man was tall, around six feet and definitely human.  He seemed elegant with his good posture and romantic looks.  He had black hair and a small, well-kept goatee.  A fine rapier was sheathed at his side.  He wore no armour and instead was clothed with a puffy white silken shirt and tight duellist pants.  He had an air of complete confidence, despite the fact that he was in the presence of a death slaad; an angel and what seemed to be a drow.  He was quite the stupid highwayman.  He spoke with a foreign and slightly poetic accent; he rolled his rs: “I do not want to hurt you.  I am but a simple man, trying to make a living, just as you are, simple merchant types.”
Kryshen raised an eyebrow, then looked ahead to Syn, who was grinning profusely, he spoke, but in a voice that should have belonged to a fat sailor who had spent days yelling at his crew: “how am I ter know what yer meanin’ ter do?  Ya could jus’ take me son and slit his throat when I go ter get me goods for yer, how am I ter know ye’ll keep yer word?” Kryshen could barely contain his laughter, now he understood the spell Syn had cast when they had begun to ride out.  It was a very convincing illusion.
“As I said, my friend, I am an honourable type, simply trying to make a living, I would never harm you,” he moved his arm, fully revealing his beautiful rapier, “unless I had to.”  Kryshen nodded his sincere appreciation: this man was an expert.  The night elf wondered how long this man had been ransacking merchant caravans.
Caravans departing from nearby towns all took this route to get to either Zendarr or Phyras, some sixty miles to the north of Zendarr.  Highwaymen were not uncommon, and Kryshen understood that there were likely about twenty men all around them, hiding cleverly.  All of them armed with bows.  This situation could get fun.
Syn had turned the illusion to a predetermined one and then turned back to the party, explaining what was to be done.  Outside the illusory caravan the illusory Syn was continuing to talk to the highwayman in increasingly angry tones.  A couple of men had come out of hiding, both bearing battleaxes.  They were wide and brutish, no doubt chosen for the fear factor.  They were meant to intimidate the irate merchant into giving up his wealth.  They couldn’t intimidate an illusion.  He continued to scream about how the freedoms of the country were dissolving and how ruffians like them were ruining the world.  Eventually the illusory man stood up, drawing a rusty short sword.  Three men on either side of the road stood up from hiding with bows in their hands, and when the man continued to make aggressive movements, they fired.  The six arrows streaked through the air… and shattered as they made contact with a glowing blue shield.  Syn wanted to continue the illusion, but the duration was almost expired, so he simply dispelled it while casting.  The highwaymen screamed as they realized the trap.
“Angels!” an anonymous man yelled.
“We’re doomed.” Said another.
“Run for your lives!” said one of the archers.
Kryshen quickly dismounted his horse, knowing that his riding inability would hinder him in the battle.  He noticed then that the thieves were running, and he realized that there might not be a fight.  Suddenly, one of the fleeing highwaymen crashed face first into a magical barrier that had spread like water across glass from the ground up twenty feet.  It encompassed each of the highwaymen and the company in an oval shape.  There was no escape.  Two of the archers threw down their bows in surrender, but the others had, amazingly, actually drawn their weapons and were prepared to fight.
Surprisingly, the man with the rapier had not moved even when the illusion had been dispelled.  He stood calmly, rapier at his side, though in hand.  His brown eyes were narrowed and everyone could tell he was an experienced fighter, simply by his complete readiness.
Alexia dropped from her horse as well and began a quick cast, enveloping her allies in a light blue shield that would provide as much protection as a simple sheet of scale mail.  Zaphh stayed atop his horse and reconjured his swords singing an incantation in a rumbling bass.  The grass around the two men with axes suddenly extended to almost a dozen feet in length and became animate, grasping and pulling at the burly men’s limbs.  They fought back, but the grass was simply too overpowering and dragged the men down to a clump on the ground.
“Non-lethal attacks only!” Alexia shouted as she rushed forward with her greatsword.  The archer on the right who had surrendered was accompanied two other archers and they would have to be eliminated quickly.  She rattled off an incantation and a burst of sound exploded between the two, throwing the surrendered man to the dirt and stunning another.  The last stood and stubbornly fired off an arrow.  She dodged to the side and saw the arrow fly by, to catch Syn in the leg.  She did all she could to ignore his cry of pain.  She dodged one more arrow before reaching the retreating man.  She swiped her greatsword, splitting his bow in half, and then continued, slamming him in the face with the pommel.  The man toppled to the earth.  The man at the edge of the circle was understandably incapacitated, as he lay groaning in the dirt.  The two axe wielders were pinned beneath grass tendrils and one of the two archers remaining had surrendered.  The only other remaining foe was the leader.  Velix charged out of the horses, like some blue arrow shaft.  He shot past the writhing patches of grass and jumped at the archer.  The archer screamed and fired an arrow, hitting the tiger in the muscled flank, though dealing minimal overall damage.  Far greater damage was inflicted by the flying tiger, which crashed heavily into the man and bore him to the ground.  The sound of shattering ribs resonated through the dome of magical walls.
The only remaining highwayman was the leader who seemed positively unaffected by all the short battle.  The only thing that held his attention was Kryshen, who eyed him with equal intensity.  The night elf stalked out past the horses and stood in front of the man.  The man drew his rapier up high, between his eyes, and snapped it down beside him, a standard issue of challenge between fencers.  Kryshen nodded and sheathed one dagger, then executed the same manoeuvre.  They stood ten feet across from one another, everyone in attendance deathly silent.  There was a tense moment as the two combatants stared into the other’s eyes, each focused on that one goal: victory.  The man ginned suddenly, and Kryshen tensed even more, expecting a trick.  His opponent, however, simply reached around to the back of his belt and drew a kukri dagger.  Kukris were daggers that curved extravagantly, and the elegant fashion did not surprise the night elf.  “Draw your other blade.” The man said.  His friendly tone had disappeared and instead was replaced with a serious, competitive one.  Kryshen nodded and did so.  The man grinned again, “By my code of honour, two competitors must know each other’s name.  My name is Cassius Soulier, son of Terrius Soulier… what’s yours?”
This made sense to Kryshen, a duellist was bound by a strict code of honour, every battle for them was of principle, there were even tales of them alerting enemies to their presence before attacking, which sometimes resulted in their deaths. “My name is Kryshen Tel’darr, formerly of House Tel’darr, son of Matron Mother Tel’darr.  It is my honour to duel you.”
“And mine as well.”  Cassius seemed pleased the Kryshen knew the Art of Declaration, the act that was to take place before any duel.  His grin quickly returned to its predator-like appearance and his eyes flashed with anticipation.  Kryshen’s eyes flashed too.  They stood for another moment before Cassius’s smile disappeared, “draw!’ he said and leapt forward with his rapier leading.
Kryshen knew that a rapier was a thrusting weapon, so he immediately brought his dagger down in a sweeping parry. The thrust was quickly accompanied by the stab of the dagger and Kryshen defeated that attack as well.  Arms and bodies in close the night elf brought his forehead down on the duellist’s nose, which shattered.  Cassius jumped back to collect his wits and Kryshen did not follow the attack, just letting the human regain his senses.  After a couple of seconds the duellist leapt ahead again, launching a less aggressive attack routine, the skilled fighter pressing the night elf from all angles.  The rapier was a quick weapon, and was perfectly balanced, so Kryshen never had the advantage in that hand, but the dagger of the duellist was no where near as fast and Kryshen drew small lines of blood through Cassius’s shirt.  Eventually, Cassius jumped back again and stared hard at the elf, measuring him up, before leaping forward again.  This time, the attack came from an angle Kryshen had not expected.  Cassius threw his dagger and Kryshen had to bat it aside and leap into a roll to the side to avoid being skewered.  He came back to his feet with a deep gash in his side.  He grinned and brought his attack to the duellist. End over end went doth daggers, flying toward Cassius’s chest.  The fast man reached around his back and drew another dagger before Vescal and Ironis reached him.  His rapier knocked one aside and his new kukri caught the dagger in its nook. He spun the dagger a few times before tossing it back to Kryshen.  Kryshen just nodded and called the daggers to his hand, which rematerialized in his waiting grasp.  Cassius nodded his approval.  Kryshen charged again, attacking rapidly and dodging just as rapidly.  He ducked and a rapier blade stabbed over his head.  He stabbed ahead and Cassius somehow managed to twist out of the way, though the blade slid painfully across the duellist’s ribs.  Cassius quickly countered with a right to left slash with the kukri that glanced off Ironis entirely by accident.
He leapt back, sincerely enjoying the fight.  He saw that Cassius equalled his grin and he held up one hand to show that the fight was paused.
“Cassius Soulier, must we continue this fight?”
“According to my code, yes.  We must battle until either one of us dies, or one forfeits.”
“You are a great fighter, and I would hate to kill you, surely you can see this is futile?  It would be a pity to kill you.”
This was immediately apparent as the wrong thing to say.  Cassius’s grin disappeared and he looked at Kryshen almost with contempt: “ready you blades Kryshen Tel’darr, this is a battle to the death, no mercy will be shown, nor should it be given.”
Kryshen nodded, but held his hand to show the fight was still not ready to commence: “If the honour system is so important to you, I must show you my true form.”
Cassius seemed surprised by this, but nodded.
Kryshen summoned his will and released the truth of his heritage.  The explosion of magic did not rattle the duellist as it should have, but the appearance of the vapours streaming from the night elf’s eyes surely did: “you… are a night elf?”
Kryshen nodded and raised his blades, “let us finish this.”
Cassius nodded and raised his weapons and leapt forward.  The night elf was slightly surprised firstly that Cassius was aware of night elves, and more surprised that he seemed completely at easy with the fact that one stood before him.  Kryshen’s eyes noted the power of the enchantment in his opponent’s blades and realized just how great an adversary he was facing.  The rapier flared red and the dagger was a bright orange.  Quickly Kryshen parried the two weapons and launched two minor thrusts accompanied by a kick.  The kick caught the man in the stomach and he staggered back.  Kryshen slowly walked towards him.  Cassius rose and readied his blades.  They were quickly hit twice by both blades and Kryshen dropped with a speed that did not seem possible, executing a spin kick that took the feet out from under the duellist, dropping him on his back.  Kryshen rose again and dropped a knee on the human’s chest, placing one dagger at his throat and the other on this dagger arm.  He had won.  Cassius coughed lightly, “kill me, you have won.” Cassius said, not a trace of regret in his voice.
Kryshen laughed: “no.  You said that no mercy should be given.  You did not say that I had to kill you, and now I am choosing to let you live.”
“Then would you mind getting off my chest?”
Kryshen laughed and stood, helping his opponent to his feet.
“According to honour, I am required to make concession for having lost.  Will you accept my gift?”  The duellist stooped down and picked up his rapier, and he handed it, hilt first to the night elf.
“I would treasure it like my own life.” Kryshen said.  Surprised at Cassius’s adherence to his moral codes, even in the face of death Kryshen nevertheless took the sword by the hilt.  The thing verily hummed with power and the balance was unquestionable.  But he could not use it.  Vescal and Ironis would never accept it.  He looked to Ben and hrmed thoughtfully.

Chapter six:
The Angel’s Secret
They camped not too far from the clearing, beside a clear and solemn brook.  Zaphh and Velix fished for dinner and the group, along with their newfound friend, sat around gorgeous fire.  Alexia healed Cassius’s nose and his small cuts but Kryshen’s wounds were too superficial to bother with.  The other highwaymen were bound with silvril-lined rope from Syn’s pack.  Syn’s arrow wound was completely healed and bandaged and he sat comfortably on a log.  They were tied to a tree no so far away and they had long given up on yelling for help.  The group had withheld judgment on Cassius by Kryshen’s advice and now they were comfortably seated on oaken logs that their druid had carried from the copse of trees.  They shared long stories about heroes of old and their individual pasts. 
Cassius Soulier had been the son of a rich and elegant swordsmaster in Phyras, a city known for its magic more so than the few, though elite, fencing schools.  When his father was killed in a fencing accident, the specifics of which the fencer would not divulge, he left Phyras to seek wealth in Zendarr.  When he learned how much money he would need to start a school, he began to seek alternate ways to accumulate wealth.  He began his thieving gang, The Honourable Reprobates, and immediately began to reel in the gold.  When he had enough money, he appealed to the Paladin Circle to allow him to start his own business.  But the paladins had been informed of his thieving, and he was rebuked, and banished, on pain of death, from the city.  He secretively retrieved all his allies and began his racketeering anew.  He had slowly moved away from Zendarr, and, eventually, lost sight of his previous goals.  Then he had been found and defeated by a night elf.  And now he was sitting around the fire, trading tales with the man who could have killed him. 
The sun had long set by the time Cassius’s tale was done, and Ben’s eyes were starting to droop.  He began to lean dangerously to one side when he felt an arm on his shoulder.  He woke with a jump.  Kryshen’s hand was still on his shoulder and his grin was wide.
“…Wha?” Ben’s exhausted mouth could hardly formulate the words.
“Wakey wakey.  I want to show you something.”
Ben shook his head, clearing the cobwebs.  Ben followed Kryshen’s pointing finger to the seat across the fire and saw Zaphh return with two more fish.  Zaphh’s other hand was enveloped in glowing flame, lending light to the area around him.
“See wizard, my fire is not only a light, but a weapon as well, do you have such a spell?”
“No Zaphh, but I do have spells that provide about a hundred times the illumination of your petty fire.  And those don’t burn my clothing.”
Zaphh noticed his smoking sleeve.  He cursed and dispelled the fire and smacked his sleeve against his chest, though in doing so, he lost his grip on one of the trout, which bounced back down the grassy hill.  The druid raced after it, cursing.  The campsite flared with laughter.  Ben was now fully awake.
When Zaphh returned, he showed his anger clearly in his features.
“Okay, wizard, let’s settle this now.  I will give you one hour to prepare twelve of your most powerful spells.  No… thirteen.  We will have a contest right now.  Who ever wins more of the spells wins the contest.”
“What do you mean, ‘win more of the spells’?”  Cassius asked, a little fear evident on his face.
“We will face one spell off against the other, you all with be the judges on which one is better, and if I have seven of the thirteen, I will beat the wizard once and for all.”
Kryshen nodded, but Syn waved his hands, “wait, I think you should get a handicap.”
Zaphh looked suspicious, “what do you mean wizard.”
“Well, you are much better than me with weapons, and you have more extra abilities that are not spells, so why don’t we prepare twelve spells, and you can begin with one extra point.”
Zaphh smiled, “you know wizard, such confidence will cost you your life.”
“Then at least I shall die happy.”
Zaphh pondered this for a while before nodding and walking off to pray beneath the moon.  Syn nodded and also took his leave, to prepare his spells in private.
Ben turned to Kryshen, as if questioning.
Kryshen grinned: “I wanted you to see that.”
Ben looked lost.
The night elf’s grin widened, “Ben, you showed both of them that you could be good at either practice, you have the intellect of a wizard, and the focus of the druids, they are competing for your favour.”
“But I don’t wan t to be a wizard… or a druid.  I like my bow.”
Kryshen was nodding before he finished, “I know, but you haven’t told them that, I don’t think they realize it.  You see Ben, adults have a tendency to ignore the desires of children figuring that they know the child’s wishes better than the child, because they have seen more life.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know that, but they do not, they want to see who is a better fit for you tonight, that is the purpose of this contest, but you don’t want it do you?”
Ben shook his head: “Of course not, my bow has the range of any good magic, and I don’t adore any of the forest animals like Zaphh!”
“Then we need to convince them otherwise.  But we will have to wait until after the contest.”
“Why?”
Kryshen grinned, “Because I want to see who will win.”
Ben laughed, “Me too.”
The next few minutes uneventful, Ben began to drift off to sleep again and Kryshen let him sleep, engrossed as he was by a conversation with Cassius, mostly about combat techniques.  Alexia sat on the other side of the fire, absently stroking Velix.  The great cat quietly purred.
Suddenly, Alexia stood up: “I think I will go to bed.”
Kryshen looked surprised: “ Why?  You need to judge the competition.”
Alexia grinned her beautiful half-grin, shy and enticing at the same time: “ I think I might be a little biased, don’t you?”
Kryshen grinned, “true, but you should at least stay out here, watch at least.”
Alexia shook her head, “I feel a little tired.”
Kryshen looked questioningly at her.  It was obviously a half-truth, but he had no reason to question her further, as doing so would make it seem like he did not trust her, so he just nodded, “we had too many judges anyway.”
It was Alexia’s turn to look confused.
“We had four judges, two could vote for Zaphh and two for Syn, we couldn’t have that now could we?”
Alexia gave a little laugh and nodded, then walked off to bed.  Kryshen stared after her for a couple seconds, half entranced by her curvaceous body, and half curious why she wanted to leave.  He jumped when he heard Cassius’s voice: “so the night elf has found a fancy for the angel, how ironic.”
Kryshen snapped a furious gaze upon Cassius: “I hold no illusions as to anything between myself and Alexia: she is Syn’s lover.”  Cassius, perceptive as he was, noted disappointment behind the last part of that statement.
“Jealous?”  He asked, the simple question drew a glare from the night elf, it was answer enough to the fencer, “I see.”  He said quietly, contemplatively.
Kryshen shook his head and refused to continue the conversation. 
Soon after, Syn returned from his studies.  He questioned Alexia’s absence, and was not pacified by her reasoning; he left again to find her.  Zaphh returned five minutes after Syn left.  He, of course, explained Syn’s absence as cowardice.  They shared a laugh as they considered the fiery competition that was to ensue, especially when they considered the competition was pointless.
Syn’s tent was only a thirty-second walk away, but his budding sense of concern multiplied in that short walk.  Why would she leave?  It didn’t make any sense.  When he reached the tent he had the words of a deadly spell on his lips, unsure of what to expect.  He lifted the flap and saw Alexia, lying on her stomach, examining a book.  A magical light floated above her head.  Syn let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding; there was nothing wrong here.  But then his breath caught in his throat as he noticed the title of the book.  In the top right hand corner, in draconic, the words were scribbled “Magical Artefacts and Their Destruction.”  Beneath the title was a picture of two daggers captions “Vlyndar’s Daggers.”  Syn felt a stab of rage and released a quick spell that reduced the book to ashes.  Alexia looked over, her expression somewhere between rage, fear, and determination.
“What in the name of Light are you doing?” Syn asked, quickly ascertaining her intentions.
Alexia seemed to make a physical effort in boosting her confidence, “I am going to destroy Kryshen’s daggers.”

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