The Fourth Realm

by Kris Kramer

A former soldier, branded as a coward, and banished from service in the Army, has a chance encounter with an enemy that leads him on a journey with some unlikely allies as they seek to uncover a mystery deep in the war-ravaged frontiers of their land. See the updated story at /portfolio/the-rise-of-cithria-the-chosen/

1. The Albion Storyline

Prologue

In a time long since past, the three great realms of Albion, Hibernia and Midgard lived in an uneasy peace, brokered by the sheer strength of will of Albion's King Arthur. From his home in Camelot, the capital city of Albion, Arthur presided over an era of prosperity that was unprecedent in the history of the three realms. But it was also a time for resentments and rivalries to simmer below the surface. Arthur's era of peace was about to end...

Albion was the fertile land of the Britons and Highlanders, led by the great King Arthur himself. Along with their mystical Avalonian allies, as well as the Saracens, dark-skinned warriors from the south whom Arthur himself had recruited to the cause, the people of Albion sought to become a mighty kingdom that would bring order to their corner of the world. Unfortunately, not everyone agreed with Arthur's vision.

Midgard was the frozen land of the north, home of the Norsemen, Trolls, Dwarves and Kobolds. The Norsemen were viking raiders, led by King Eiric, who sought to find new lands where they could stake their claim. The hardy Dwarves were their allies, as were the giant, stone-skinned Trolls from the mountains and the small, blue-skinned Kobolds from the Undercity.

These races of Midgard, unable to live off the land of their birth, needed to expand their reach, but Albion, and Arthur, blocked their way.

Hibernia was the magical land of the Celts, fierce warriors who had long been subjugated by their more powerful neighbor, Albion. The Celts, led by Lug Lamfhota allied themselves with the 'old races' of Hibernia, the mighty Firbolgs, the diminutive Lurikeen and the haughty Elves, to free themselves of Albion's long-standing dominion over them. All they needed was an opportunity to show their strength.

On Arthur's death, the realms mourned, for they knew times were about to change for the worse. War came shortly after as Midgard invaded, looking for new lands, Hibernia threw off the yoke of their Albion masters, and Albion sought to defend their homeland against two great aggressors. At stake was not only the future of the realms, but of the frontier lands between them, where powerful magical artifacts known as Relics were housed. Whoever controlled these Relics, controlled the strength and power that their magic provided to an entire realm.

For thirty years now these realms have fought, trading lands, Relics, and lives. The balance of power has shifted back and forth among them, but none of the three realms has ever been able to strike a blow decisive enough to claim a final victory. But times are changing. Midgard's ageing armies have been slowly dwindling in numbers, and Hibernia's forces have suffered several notable defeats. Albion, long under siege, is slowly but surely reaching the brink of victory.

But old enemies lurk beneath the surface, waiting for the right time to strike. And the three realms, weakened by decades of war, are at their most vulnerable. The fate of the realms, and their people, is at stake.

Book 1 – The Gathering

by Kris Kramer

Chapter 1

"Coward, coward..."

The pack of children stood at the edge of town and chanted that word over and over as Aiden walked away from Humberton with his pack slung over his shoulder and his hood pulled low over his face. He hated coming to the market here for this very reason. He would have sent someone else to pick up his food if he could afford it, but he barely had enough money to feed himself, so he had to suffer through this lonely, humiliating ordeal every time his pantry emptied out. The kids would taunt him loudly, the adults would scorn him silently, and he'd just try to get through it all fast enough that none of the local toughs would think to provoke a fight.

He tried to keep his face covered when he came here, but his large Briton build and the fact that he owned only one red cloak always gave him away to the locals. The adults always knew him on sight, but he thought that this time he'd managed to do his business and get away without being discovered by the more obnoxious children. As usual, though, it was not to be, even though he took great pains to come here only when the crowds were heavy and he could blend in. The young, freckle-faced son of a woman hawking bread had recognized him, and it took only seconds before he had scampered off to tell the other village children that The Coward was back. He'd only had time to buy bread, a small wheel of cheese and a cheap flagon of wine before they started gathering, and as soon as he left the market and moved onto the east road, they gathered at the edge of the town centre, near the mile marker, and started taunting him.

"Coward, coward..."

No matter how many times he heard that word, the sting of it never lessened, and he wondered once again if this truly was to be his fate for eternity... to be mocked by children until he died of old age, worthless to his people and to his realm. He spent his days and nights alone in a rickety hut in the hills, venturing out only for food or other necessities that he couldn't procure himself, with only an old, nearly deaf hunting dog to keep him company. He had no family any more, and no money besides what he made doing odd jobs for Black Mountain homesteaders in the area. And he stupidly wasted his remaining free time hoping that one day he'd be called back to service in the Albion army, where he could once again prove himself as a respected soldier.

He'd been an Armsman once, fighting in the bloody wars against Hibernia and Midgard, Albion's long-time and bitter enemies. He'd been a good soldier. He was loyal, he was determined, and he was a survivor, having lived through many of Albion's great victories and bitter defeats. He'd killed more of his enemy than he even cared to count, though no one cared about that anymore. His accomplishments had all been lost due to an unfortunate accident and unfortunate timing. He was a little out of shape and a little out of practice, but still fit and well-built, strong, and young compared to some of the veterans out there now. But no army would have him. Not with his sullied reputation, and not with the mark of the coward forcibly branded on his cheek for the all the world to see.

It wasn't deserved, not to Aiden, but what ill-begotten fate in this world ever is? Whether he deserved it or not didn't matter now, though. It was there, and he had to live with it as best he could. So he ignored the sounds of thrown rocks landing harmlessly on the ground behind him, and trudged along the path, hoping only to get home without incident. It was late afternoon, and the sun would be up for another two or three hours, which is how long it would take to reach his small home in the hills. Once there he could throw off his cloak, eat a meager dinner, drink some wine, and maybe try to forget about his fate. Unfortunately, an incident seemed to be coming his way, because at that moment he noticed the Scout that was shadowing him in the woods that surrounded the trail.

Whoever this Scout was, he was arrogant, or cocky, because he was following far too close for someone who should value subtlety and stealth. Aiden kept his hood low and his gait steady, trying not to tip off his pursuer that he could see him darting from shadow to shadow in the thick woods that surrounded the path. He was skilled enough not to make any noise, but he apparently thought that Aiden's hood was blocking his vision because he was far too cavalier about keeping his profile low. Aiden knew it was only a matter of time before he attacked, looking for an easy target, and he desperately wished he'd brought his sword with him. He was sure he could teach this Scout a painful lesson about stalking an Armsman – a former Armsman – but with no weapon on him he would be at the Scout's mercy if he didn't have a good plan.

Hoof beats from behind caught his attention, and Aiden glanced back to see that two horse-drawn carts had left Humberton on the same road and were quickly catching up to him. Aiden moved to the side of the road to let them pass, and as they did he could see that they were merchant carts leaving the market for the day. The first one had an older man and woman up front – Highlanders he thought, native to the nearby Black Mountains. The man was holding the reigns of the horse loosely, and there were only a few empty sacks in the back. The second cart had a younger man driving, a Briton, with a woman and two small children in the back – too young to have been part of the taunting crowd - as well as a few sacks of food that they either hadn't managed to sell or had traded for with something else. Either way, Aiden just kept his head down and let them go their way, hoping none of them recognized him or cared to see his face.

The Scout was hidden now, the sight of the carts probably forcing him to be more cautious, but Aiden knew he was still out there somewhere, no doubt waiting until he was alone on the path and away from the outskirts of Humberton before making his move. Aiden figured that his best bet to fend off the Scout was to just stay with the carts as long as he could. He could hail them down and ask for a ride, and in most cases they'd probably let him. But if he tried to hide his face from them they'd get suspicious, and if he didn't... well, he couldn't take any more disapproving looks today. He decided that he'd just walk faster, instead. The carts were already a little ways ahead of him, and he couldn't hope to keep pace but he could keep them in sight for a little while, and maybe that would be enough to dissuade the Scout and send him back towards Humberton to find easier prey.

Aiden groaned as he watched the carts pull away a bit faster than he expected, and he started praying silently that they would slow down just a bit so he didn't have to walk so fast. His prayers were unexpectedly answered when a man suddenly appeared from the edge of the woods ahead of the carts, wearing a black, hooded robe that covered his face, just like Aiden. He walked to the middle of the path and stood there, waiting for the carts, and for a moment Aiden thought this was the Scout that had been tailing him, but he seemed taller, and bigger, and bandits rarely ventured out in the open like that unless they had a small army to back them up. No matter who it was, though, the carts slowed down as they approached the man and Aiden was glad to make up some ground on them.

"You there. Step aside." The older man in the lead cart called out, annoyed that his trip home was being interrupted so blatantly. The hooded man casually pulled back his hood, and Aiden saw something he hadn't expected to see this day. The man was close to his own age, rugged looking, with tanned skin and long blond hair, and a short beard with braids in it. He wore drab gray clothing covered by well-worn chain mail, and he had a long handled hammer in his right hand. This man was no Briton. In fact, he was no resident of Albion at all. He was a Norseman, from Midgard. A mortal enemy of their realm had somehow breached the impenetrable walls of Sauvage or Snowdonia and was standing before them in full battle garb. The Norseman wasted no time in raising his hammer before him and chanting a spell, and that's when Aiden realized that this wasn't just a Norseman. This was a Thane, one of the feared warriors of Thor who were able to summon their ancient god's power down from the sky with destructive, and deadly, fury.

The woman in the front cart screeched in surprise, and the man tried to in vain to get his horses to turn around, all while the Norseman raised his hammer high and shouted the last words of his chant. Without warning, a bolt of lightning crashed down into the front cart with a deafening crack, splintering it into two pieces and sending fragments of charred wood flying about the path. The Highlanders were thrown clear in opposite directions and landed roughly on the ground nearby while the horses whinnied in panic and confusion. The mother in the second cart was screaming now, and her husband was trying just as vainly to get his horses to turn around as well.

The Thane turned toward the older man, holding his hammer out in front of him with both hands wrapped around the handle. Aiden could see the tiny bolts of blue lightning crackle all around it and he was suddenly reminded of his own difficulties with Thanes in the wars. The Highlander was slowly trying to lift his head off the ground – he must have hit it hard when landing – but he was conscious enough to realize the Thane was approaching him. He held his left hand up to the Thane, begging him to stay back and leave him be, but the Thane just ignored him as he stepped up next to the old man and lifted his hammer. The man's wife had recovered quickly, and when she saw the Thane stand over her husband, his hammer held high, she screamed out for him to stop. But it was too late. The hammer came down, crashing into his shoulder and crushing his chest. The second blow followed immediately, caving into his head. The Thane had claimed his first victim. The old woman cried out again, screaming in agony at the sight of her dead husband, and the Thane turned to her and raised up his hand. A smaller, thinner bolt of lighting rained down from the sky, striking her, and knocking her flat to the ground where she writhed in pain.

"Alfrith! Here!" Aiden saw the mother in the second cart hold a sword up to her husband, shouting at him to take it, while trying to scoop up her two children with her other hand. The Briton, Alfrith, continued to struggle with the horses before reluctantly taking the sword just as the Thane turned his attention to them.

"Get out of here!" Alfrith yelled back to his family. He gave up on the horses, who were all out of control now, and stepped down from the cart to face the approaching Thane. He held his sword out weakly, unsure of himself, and he kept shuffling his feet, trying to back up so he could keep his distance from the Thane while staying between him and his family. His wife jumped off the back of the cart, which was being knocked back and forth by the horses trying to get free, and started pulling the two children out. The Thane, showing remarkable quickness, darted forward and swung his hammer at Alfrith. One swing was all it took, as the hammer collided with the sword, knocking it out of Alfrith's hands and sending it skidding onto the ground nearby, just out of reach. The Thane followed that with a roaring bellow that sent a shockwave out around him, kicking up dust and dirt in all directions and knocking Alfrith off his feet.

Aiden watched the whole scene play out in front of him and realized that he was just standing there, useless. He'd been so surprised to see a Norseman here, and so out of practice since his days in the army that he didn't know what to do. This was battle, this was what he wanted, but he wasn't reacting like he normally would. He knew he should help, but he didn't even know what he could do. He had no weapons, and no armor. He stood little chance against a fully armed and armored enemy. But he also knew that if he just let this man slaughter everyone here today, then he deserved the coward's brand on his cheek. He deserved to be mocked and scorned. Coward... coward... The sound of the kids taunting him rattled around in his head, and he decided that he'd had enough. He would prove to himself that he'd never lost his courage. He knew this wouldn't be the smartest decision he'd ever made, but he wasn't looking for smart. He was looking for brave. So he dropped his pack and charged.

The Thane stood over the Briton and held his hammer up high. He didn't seem content to just smash into the man's skull, however, because he started chanting his spell again, the one that destroyed the first cart, and would no doubt destroy this poor man. Aiden ran at a full sprint toward the discarded sword lying on the ground, hoping that he could distract the Thane just long enough to save Alfrith. Just as he was about to finish the chant, the Thane's eyes darted up, and he saw Aiden. He seemed to realize that the Briton lying prone on the ground wasn't his immediate priority anymore, and he instead turned toward Aiden, which was just what Aiden had hoped for. As the Thane shouted the last words of his chant, Aiden changed direction in mid stride and threw his large body at the Thane instead of the sword, hitting him in the stomach with his shoulder as lightning cracked loudly into the empty ground next to the sword.

The two of them tumbled into the dirt, rolling over each other until the Thane kicked up his knees, flinging Aiden away to his left. He followed that up by swinging his hammer in a sideways stroke, but Aiden grabbed the handle, preventing the blow from having any real force, then pushed it away. Aiden rolled sideways, just out of weapon range of the Thane, then quickly pulled himself up and leaped toward the discarded sword, grabbing it with his right hand. He was back on his feet in a second, facing off against the Thane, who was now also on his feet and ready for a fight. Aiden swung the sword about, testing its weight and balance, and he quickly realized that the sword was junk. The Briton probably only kept it to scare people off, because the edges were blunt, the blade was slightly crooked, and it was so poorly made that it might break if hit in the wrong spot.

Great, Aiden thought. He might as well have been holding a sharp stick. Fortunately for him, the Thane didn't know that, and Aiden's years of combat and training were coming back to him quickly now. If the sword couldn't handle parrying blows from a giant hammer, then the answer was simple – don't parry. That meant he needed to be aggressive, so Aiden gathered his wits, steadied his breathing, and took the fight to the Thane. He swung carefully and deliberately at first, just trying to keep his enemy at a distance while he thought of his next tactic, because now he was worried the sword wouldn't even pierce the chain mail armor the Norseman was wearing. That never became an issue, though, because the Thane quickly tired of the duel, raised his hand to the heavens and called down another lighting bolt. It was a smaller bolt, like the one he'd used on the old woman, but it still hurt – a lot. Aiden felt the lightning course through his body, and his muscles all seemed to twitch violently at the same time and then tense up, freezing him where he was. The Thane smiled at him, then heaved his hammer back and then up over his head. The feeling was quickly coming back to Aiden's muscles, but he wouldn't be able to avoid the crushing blow to his skull in time.

He was going to die painfully – that is, until an arrow clipped the Thane's ear.

The Thane lowered his hammer and held a hand up to his now bleeding ear and Aiden used the split second that afforded him to jump out of the way. The Thane turned toward the path behind them with more than a look of surprise on his face. He seemed genuinely angry now. Aiden kept his distance and held his sword up, ready to defend himself, but he followed the Thane's gaze until he saw a young man in a black cloak standing in the middle of the path holding a knocked bow. It was the Scout that had been following him, he was sure of it. The Scout raised his bow and fired another arrow that struck the Thane in his chain mail high on his chest. It didn't actually penetrate the armor, only wedging itself into the mail, but the Thane seemed to understand, just as Aiden did, that a few inches higher and that second arrow would be in his neck. The Thane, realizing that the odds might be changing, turned towards Aiden and snarled, then ran towards the woods along the side of the path. Aiden thought about chasing after him, but what he saw next shocked him even more anything else he'd just experienced.

The Thane stealthed.

Once he reached the shadows of the trees, he just disappeared into the darkness, using an ability that only experienced Scouts or Infiltrators knew. Stealthing was not something Thanes had ever been able to do before, and Aiden took an involuntary step back, suddenly worried that this Thane could now be sneaking up on him and he'd never even know until it was too late. He turned back toward the Scout, who was picking something up off the ground. Aiden was about to call out to him, to warn him, when he realized what the Scout was picking up. It was Aiden's pack. With his food, and his money, and his wine. The Scout lifted it up and threw it over his shoulder. He saw Aiden looking at him so he smiled back and gave a quick wave, then ran off into the woods where he'd come from.

Aiden stood there in disbelief. He'd just fought and nearly died to a Thane with mysterious abilities, who shouldn't even be on this side of the fortress walls, and who could be stalking him right now, just to see all of his food and money taken from him by a Scout who was barely out of his teens. He looked around and saw that the Briton, Alfrith, and his family were all far down the path toward Humberton, running as fast as they could to safety. The old Highlander was dead, and his wife wasn't moving. Aiden was alone out here now, and he couldn't take that Thane if he came back. But he had a sword, which meant he could probably handle an arrogant little Scout who thought to steal from an Armsman.

Aiden suddenly realized that he felt more than just confused and scared. He felt angry at the Scout, he felt proud for managing to save Alfrith and his family, and he felt exhilarated by the prospect of battle. In other words, he felt alive, for the first time in years. He felt a purpose beyond just mere survival, and he wasn't going to waste what tonight had brought him. He couldn't take the Thane, not yet, but he could handle that Scout, and that's exactly what he was going to do next. So he hefted the crooked blade in his hand and ran into the woods to retrieve his pack. And if he was lucky, maybe a little bit of his pride as well.

Chapter 2

Aiden panted loudly as he crashed through the woods like a lumbering bear chasing after a meal. He hadn't run like this in maybe a year, and his body was doing its best to remind him of that fact. His legs were burning, his chest hurt, and his breathing was fast and shallow, but all things considered it wasn't as bad as he would have thought. He was somewhere around thirty years old, which wasn't young anymore, especially compared to all the fresh-faced teenage recruits that showed up every year during his time, but he wasn't an old man either. And his training and conditioning seemed to be coming back to him quickly, which was a good sign, because he'd need it shortly.

He was chasing down the Scout that had just stolen his pack, and he was making enough noise to wake the entire realm, but that was all part of the plan. Aiden was trained as an Armsman, not a Scout, which meant his skills were best utilized in an open, face-to-face fight, not at tracking someone who could disappear into thin air. He needed to see his opponent to combat him, so Aiden was gambling that by making as big a ruckus as he possibly could, the Scout would hear the commotion and come to him instead. He'd already shown that he was a bit cocky and overconfident while trailing Aiden earlier, and Aiden was hoping he could use that to his advantage now.

It was a calculated risk, though, because his current direction was taking him toward the river. Any minute now he would be within shouting distance of the goblin settlements nestled along the riverbank, and he didn't want to attract any curious goblin hunting parties if he could help it. And there were more than just goblins in these woods if you listened to the stories. With night approaching, the dangers became even worse, so he needed to finish this soon and get back to safety. He'd already had enough adventure tonight. The mysterious Thane that had just attacked him and the merchant families on the road from Humberton had made sure of that.

Of course, that Thane was the reason why he was out here. Fighting him had reawakened something inside Aiden that had been slumbering ever since he'd been forcibly branded on his cheek by his own realm mates. That brand marked him as a coward to everyone who saw him, and kept him from serving his realm as an honored Armsman should be able to do. But tonight, for the first time in two years, Aiden felt like a warrior again, and he wasn't going to waste that feeling by accepting his fate and trudging back home to his hut in the Black Mountains. No, tonight he would show his fellow citizens of Albion that he was no coward.

The sound of a cracking branch nearby made him stop, and he looked around carefully to see if his ruse had worked. It took him a moment to get his labored breathing under control so he could hear over his own gasps, but once he did he stood completely still and waited to see if the Scout had taken the bait. The sun was going down, and the shadows in the forest were getting longer and darker, which would give a Scout plenty of room to hide in, and hopefully make him feel safe enough to stalk a clumsy, lumbering Armsmen – former Armsmen, he reminded himself – and maybe even show himself before launching a few arrows from the dark.

"You really should learn to be quieter, old man."

Aiden smiled. It had worked. The voice came from behind him, maybe a dozen yards back. Aiden debated turning to face him, but instead he decided to stay where he was and let the Scout feel in charge, like he'd scared him into not moving. So instead, he only turned his head enough to glance back. "And you, boy, shouldn't take what isn't yours."

"That's pretty big talk for a man with an arrow pointed at his head." The Scout replied. "Drop your sword."

Aiden wanted the Scout to feel safe enough physically that he wouldn't do anything rash – like shooting him in the back - and make him feel comfortable enough to get a little bit closer. At this distance, he was a sitting duck. A skilled Scout could get two or three shots off before he reached him, and that's only if the first shot didn't kill him. He needed close the gap to around three or four yards before he could make his move. But he could be nonthreatening and still have a little bit of fun with this thief.

"I don't think I want to do that."

Aiden heard the Scout chuckle under his breath. Then he heard a couple of soft, barely audible footsteps. The Scout was getting closer, trying to get a better shot.

"You do what I say and you don't have to die today."

"I will do nothing you tell me to do unless it includes returning my things to me."

This time the laugh was a bit longer, and louder. He was probably shaking his head, too. Whether it was in pity or disbelief, Aiden couldn't tell yet.

"Well, aren't you a brazen old man." The Scout said. "A little thick in the head, too, because I don't think you understand just how precarious your position is right now."

"Explain it to me, then. Use small words."

Aiden heard another footstep and he grinned. The Scout was somewhere around seven or eight yards away now.

"I have an arrow pointed at the back of your neck." He proclaimed, a little too grandly, Aiden thought. He was beginning to suspect that this Scout was more concerned about putting on a show than actually killing people. "All I have to do is let it fly and you'll probably die before you even have time to feel it pierce your skin. It won't be as painful a death as I normally like to hand out, but it will be fast, which will save me from having to hear you moan in agony. Now drop your sword."

Aiden heard another small footstep, and he decided this was probably his best shot. The sword he was carrying wasn't his sword. It had belonged to one of the merchants attacked by the Thane, and it was obviously only meant to scare trouble off, because it was useless in an actual fight. It was one of the most poorly forged swords he'd ever seen in his life, and it would probably snap in two if put under any duress. If his life ever depended on this particular sword... well, Aiden just hoped it never came to that. So he held it out to his right, holding the hilt between his finger and his thumb, letting the blade dangle over the ground next to him. He let it hang like that for a moment, purely for show since the Scout seemed to enjoy that, then dropped it. The blade hit the ground, digging into the dirt about an inch, before just tipping over and laying there.

"There's a good man." The Scout said.

Aiden heard a couple more footsteps and then he glanced back again. He could see the Scout at the edge of his vision, shrouded in shadow, standing about four yards behind him, and he'd lowered his bow a bit, thinking that his prey had been disarmed. In reality, Aiden was secretly slipping the palm-sized rock he'd been holding in his left hand this entire time into his right.

"Now, why don't you kick that sword away?" The Scout asked. "Just a bit."

Aiden moved his leg back, as if he was going to kick the sword off to the side. Instead of kicking, though, he planted the leg a half step behind him, then spun around to his left, launching the rock at the Scout. The Scout didn't realize what was happening until it was too late, and as he twisted his body to avoid the rock, he ended up moving his right arm into it's path, where it struck him just below the shoulder with a thud.

The Scout cried out in pain and pulled his arm in, letting go of his bowstring and dropping the arrow he had knocked. Aiden used the opportunity to charge at him, covering the four yards in three quick bounds, then leaping at the cowering Scout, who tried to use his longbow to defend himself. Aiden grabbed the bow and twisted his body between it and the Scout, prying it free from his hand. The Scout, however, must have been ready to surrender that weapon, because he immediately slipped away and pulled a long sword out with his left hand. Aiden, still clutching the bow, hurried back to pick up his own sword, and the two stood a few yards apart, their weapons ready, sizing each other up.

This was the first time Aiden had been able to get a good look at the Scout, and his early impressions about him seemed to be right. He looked young, maybe in his late teens, with a mop of wavy, tangled black hair on his head, the hint of a beard on his face, and deep set black eyes. His skin was naturally dark, not tanned like Aiden's, and he suspected that at least one of the boy's parents was a Saracen. He wasn't especially tall, and his build seemed slight, but he'd just shown himself to be quick and nimble on his feet. After sizing up this young man, Aiden got the impression that he'd been well-born, and had only recently taken to the life of a bandit.

"Well this is an interesting turn." The Scout said finally, breaking the silence.

"I don't want to hurt you." Aiden replied. "I just want my pack returned to me, along with everything that was inside it when you stole it."

"I saved your life. This is just payment." The Scout motioned with his head to Aiden's pack, which was slung over his shoulder, under his black cloak.

"I don't much like those terms," Aiden moved a step closer, "and I don't recall agreeing to them."

"You could agree to them now."

"Or, I could drag you to Camelot and watch them hang you for banditry and theft."

"Really?" The Scout smiled at him, but it was the kind of smile someone gives you just before they knife you in the stomach. "So they take the word of a coward at face value these days. I'll have to remember that if I ever get such a lovely brand on my face."

"I am no coward." Aiden said, his tone as serious as he could make it.

"Your face says otherwise."

"A brand doesn't make it true." Aiden suddenly wondered why he needed this thief, of all people, to believe him.

"Ahhhh. Is this a sore subject?" The Scout asked mockingly. "Or are you just afraid to talk about it?"

Aiden pointed the sword at the Scout. "You're playing with fire, boy."

"Ohhh, now I'm the one who's scared."

Aiden held the Scout's longbow out in front of him with both hands, ready to snap it in two.

"Just how attached are you to this thing?"

"Okay, now wait a minute." The Scout said, suddenly serious. "Let's not get hasty here. We can be civil about this."

"Can we?"

"How about a trade?" The Scout slipped Aiden's pack off his shoulder, and grabbed the strap with his right hand, although his arm was still sore because the effort made his face scrunch up. "My bow, for your pack?"

"So you can just point it at me again?"

The Scout shook his head in frustration."Well, then we're at a bit of a standstill, aren't we?"

They both just stood there in silence, staring at each other, although their stances were less aggressive now, and neither really seemed poised to attack.

He's right, Aiden thought, but not about the impasse. He was remembering what he'd said about going back to Camelot. Even if Aiden felt like dragging this Scout all the way back to the city, there was no guarantee that anyone would believe what he had to say, or care about it even if they did. For every city guard he spoke to, he was just as likely to find someone willing to pay a bounty as he was to find a former soldier who'd knock him on his backside for betraying his people with cowardice. He'd even run into guards once who wouldn't let him into the city and he certainly couldn't bear dealing with that embarrassment again. No, the Scout was right. This brand would keep a lot of doors closed to him unless he had something better to offer them than an alleged thief.

Like perhaps a Thane.

That would surely open some of those doors. Bringing that Thane in, before any of the guards that would surely be dispatched soon to find him, would be a far better prize than a Scout. It would be a boon. There would certainly be a bounty, and that would help him eat like he was used to, but more importantly, he'd be known for something else besides the brand. He may still be the Coward to some people, but he'd also be known as the Thane Killer. It was a small victory, but for Aiden, that was enough. But he would need help. He couldn't do it on his own, especially not without his regular weapons and armor. He'd need an ally who could help him track the Thane, someone who knew the area.

Someone who could find another stealther.

"What's your name?" Aiden asked. He wasn't sure yet if this was the best plan, but it was the only one he had at the moment.

"What's yours?" He replied, his voice even haughtier than normal. "Or should I just call you Coward?"

"My name is Aiden." He said, keeping his tone calm and cool. "Now tell me yours."

The Scout cocked his eyebrow. He was pressing his sword hand against his sore shoulder, rubbing it. Aiden quietly hoped he could still use that arm well enough to handle his bow.

"I am the Eagle of the Shadows, the - "

"Your real name," Aiden said, cutting him off. "Not some bandit title you made up to scare the poor folk."

The Scout smirked at him, then looked away in annoyance. He stared up at the trees nearby, obviously in thought, and Aiden figured he was probably just thinking up a lie to tell him. But he didn't care. He'd use any made up name he was given if it helped him achieve his goal.

"Finias." He said finally, and Aiden was surprised because he actually believed him.

"Well then, Finias. You did save my life, and I'm ready to agree to terms of repayment."

"You are? What terms?" He looked interested now.

"Your service. To me. And mine to you."

Finias huffed in disbelief. "Are you mad? What would possibly make you think I'd agree to that?"

"I want your help to kill that Thane."

Finias just stared at Aiden for a long moment before finally replying. "No."

"Did you see what he did when he ran away? He stealthed. Thanes don't stealth. You stealth. But not a Thane. Something isn't right about this."

"I think it's you." Finias said. "You said it yourself. Thanes don't stealth. So you must be mad."

"I am not mad. I saw it with my own eyes, and you would have too if you'd been paying attention to him instead of my belongings."

"Why should I believe a story like that?"

Aiden held his arms out in exasperation. "Why would I make up a story like that?"

"Because you're mad!"

"What will take for you to believe me?"

Finias shrugged. "How about if he proves it? That's it. I'll believe it when I see it happen right here. Wait, maybe I will see it happen, because he could be right here watching us, couldn't he?" Finias turned left and right, looking dramatically into the shadows nearby. "Here, little Shadowthane. Come out and play with us, because I know you're watching, aren't you?"

Aiden shook his head. "Fine. Whether you believe me now or not, it makes no difference. I just need your help to find him and kill him. That is the bargain."

"This is silly. You're mad. And I have no idea why you'd want to drag me down into your crazy little world."

"Because I can't find out what it is alone."

"So you come to me? Why not the guards?"

"The guards will know soon enough. But I need to find him first. We need to find him."

"Why do you need me?"

"How else do you track a stealther?"

Finias had no response to that, so Aiden stepped forward and continued his argument.

"Listen to me. You don't think that if we brought in a Thane who'd slipped past our frontier defenses, killed two Albion citizens, and was capable of stealth, we wouldn't get something in return? Whether you believe me or not, you should at least be smart enough to know that there will be a reward for him, a reward we don't get if the guards find him first."

Finias thought about that for a long moment. Finally, "I want my longbow back."

"I want my belongings back." Aiden countered.

"Well, Aiden, now you're finally making some sense. Fine. I agree with your poorly thought out little plan. I get my bow, you get your pack, and then we shall find ourselves a thane and make some gold in return."

Aiden stepped forward to stand in front of Finias.

"Don't agree just yet. Before you bind yourself to me, and I to you, you must understand that this is serious. If you break your oath to me, then I will have little choice but to find you and kill you. And because of this brand on my face I'm unable to serve in the army or get any decent work. So I have nothing but time to track down dishonest scouts to the ends of the earth." Aiden held out his hand. "So now... do you agree?"

Finias let out a short chuckle."See, now I know you're mad. But gold can cure many ills, or so I've been told. I agree."

Finias reached out and shook Aiden's hand, and they both smiled, although Aiden knew in the back of his mind that they were smiling for very different reasons. He had no time to linger on that thought, though, as a cloud of crackling blue energy suddenly pounded the forest around them, shaking the trees violently and throwing them both roughly to the ground. Aiden lifted his head and looked all around, trying to find out what just happened, and it was then that he saw his best chance at salvation standing a mere twenty yards away, wearing worn chain armor and carrying a long-handled hammer.

The Thane had found them.

Chapter 3

The Hammers of Thor, Aiden thought. That's what it was.

They weren't actual hammers, of course. They were only manifestations of the magic summoned down by Thanes, shaped to look like the hammer of Thor, their patron god. When a Thane casts this spell, giant magical hammers form in the sky and then smash down onto their enemies, shaking the earth, knocking people off their feet, and sometimes even breaking bones. Runemasters could do the same thing with their Spears of Odin, and Aiden always wondered why the casters of Albion were unable to craft their magic in a similar fashion. The Spears and the Hammers were dreadful things on the battlefield. In fact, he could even swear that when they came crashing down on them in battle, that time itself even slowed down to admire their fearsome majesty.

Of course, watching the spectacle was one thing. Suffering it was another, and that's what had just happened to Aiden and to Finias, his new Scout ally – although 'ally' might be too strong a word. They were both lying dazed on the ground as the Thane, the Norseman from Midgard who'd terrorized them on the path outside Humberton and killed an innocent Highlander merchant couple, was standing nearby. He was wearing chain armor, and holding a long-handled hammer out in front of him with both hands. Both the Thane and his weapon were surrounded by crackling blue energy, the storm-magic of Thor. This one had just cast down one spell, and he was raising up his hammer to do it again. If the two of them were going to defeat this Thane tonight, they needed to get up off the ground fast.

"Move!" Aiden yelled to Finias, who was just now seeing the Thane through the scattered trees that surrounded them. Aiden ducked behind a tree nearby, ignoring the thick branch lying on the ground that had cracked off from the impact of the last spell. Aiden glanced at Finias, who was just now getting up and looking for cover. "Here!" Aiden yelled, then tossed Finias' longbow, which he'd wrested away from him minutes ago, back to him. Finias looked over and snatched the bow out of the air with his right hand, grimacing at the pain from his sore right shoulder – suffered at the hands of Aiden.

The sky rumbled and Aiden ducked back behind the tree as more giant, magical hammers slammed into the ground around them, shaking the trees and rattling the branches so violently that hundred of leaves and nuts fell to the ground all around them. Aiden turned back toward Finias, who had sheathed his sword and was pulling out an arrow. Finias gave Aiden a nod followed by a roguish grin, then disappeared into thin air, stealthing into the shadows so he could sneak up on the Thane. Aiden knew that it would be his responsibility to keep their enemy distracted so Finias could get to him undetected, so he squeezed the hilt of the dull sword he was holding, took a deep breath, then charged through the trees to take on the Thane.

He dodged left and right as he moved forward, always keeping the trees in between the two of them to make it more difficult for the Thane to target his spells. It proved to be a fortuitous tactic as the Thane raised his hammer to the sky, and a crackling blue lightning bolt struck the tree just behind Aiden, splitting it down the middle. Aiden ignored how close that strike had been and pressed on as the Thane held his hammer up, ready for melee this time. He remembered his no-parry strategy from their last meeting and decided it was still a good idea, so when he finally got close enough to attack, he made sure he was the aggressor. He feinted a high swing, then switched it into a low thrust, which worked. The Thane bought the feint and raised his hammer up, allowing the sword to go into the Thane's midsection – where it bent as soon as it hit the Thane's armor. Aiden pulled the sword back to see that it had bent at an angle about halfway down the blade, giving it a spread out L-shape. Aiden didn't have time to be upset over this development, though, as the Thane swung his hammer in a wide arc that was coming for his head. Aiden waited as long as he could before finally dodging to his left, and his heart skipped when he felt the wind from that swing brush by his cheek.

Aiden held the bent sword out in front of him, waiting for the back swing that was sure to come. Luckily, that was the moment when Finias appeared from the shadows behind the Thane, holding his bow up and pulling back an arrow. Aiden glanced at him, and relief must have been clear on his face because the Thane noticed his gaze and turned to see Finias readying his shot. Aiden ducked away – in case Finias missed – but they were both surprised as the Thane disappeared into thin air, right in front of them.

"Whoa." Finias said. His eyes went wide, then darted all about, and he lowered his bow, not entirely believing what he'd just seen. He'd mocked Aiden only moments ago for claiming the Thane could do this, but there was no denying it now. This Thane wasn't normal.

"Watch out." Aiden turned his head left and right. "He's still here, we just can't see him."

Finias quickly regained his senses and raised his bow again.

"I know how stealth works." He replied, backing away.

Aiden put the bent sword into his belt and quickly reached down to grab a large, club-sized branch laying on the ground nearby. It wasn't a great option, but it was thick and sturdy, and he felt safer with the branch in his hands than he did with that ridiculous sword. He swore to himself that if he got out of this alive, he'd have that sword melted down one day and re-forged into something useful – like a spoon.

Suddenly, the Norseman reappeared a few yards to Finias' right, and Finias responded by yelping in surprise and ducking away to his left. He quickly scurried toward the nearest trees and stealthed again. The Thane was focused on Finias, and Aiden's natural instincts as an Armsman – to keep the biggest threats focused on him – took over. He charged once more, yelling taunts at the Norseman to get his attention, but the Thane stealthed yet again before he could get in range, leaving Aiden standing alone amongst the trees.

"Show yourself!" Aiden yelled out in frustration. "Fight me!"

There was no response, so Aiden just stood there, as silent as he could make himself, and listened to the sounds of the forest around him, hoping he could hear the footsteps that both Finias and the Thane would make while stealthed. A gentle wind was rustling leaves nearby, making it hard to pick out distinctive noises so he started moving around, hoping to get lucky by stumbling on top of one of them. Fate must have been with him, too, because he heard a twig snap nearby, and he stopped again, listening carefully.

Without warning, the Thane suddenly appeared several yards to Aiden's left, and he charged toward two clustered trees that were growing around each other. When he reached the trees, he bellowed, shouting another Thane spell that caused everything around him to tremble. Finias then appeared, falling backward from the behind the trees, having been knocked out of his own stealth by the Thane's tactic. The Thane must have decided that Finias needed to be dealt with first, because he quickly sidestepped the trees and raised his hammer, looking to crush the young Scout's skull.

Aiden was already moving, though, and Thane turned at the last second and held his hammer up, parrying the branch away. He parried again and again, as Aiden pressed the attack, giving Finias time to pop back up and sprint away several steps, getting distance between him and the two warriors. For the hundredth time Aiden wished for a better weapon, or any weapon for that matter, because between the bent merchant's sword and this tree branch, he'd barely put a scratch on this Thane. And his plan had been to kill him? He thought back to Finias' comment about a 'poorly thought out plan' and he realized that the Scout had been right – again.

So he needed a new plan. He thought back to his training, trying to remember anything that would be helpful here, anything he could use or do to handle a dangerously powerful opponent. He suddenly remembered a lesson he'd learned from one of his trainers in Avalon Marsh, near Adribard's Retreat, about using his environment to gain an advantage. There were shallow pools out there, that proved useful in slowing down an enemy's advance if you situated yourself just right. He didn't have shallow pools here, but there was a river close by, which was always dangerous to someone wearing armor. And wasn't a goblin village down there, too?

He had to refocus his thoughts on his enemy as the Thane quickly countered a parry by bringing his hammer forward in a thrust toward Aiden's belly. Aiden just managed to sidestep, but he felt the edge of the hammer's iron head brush by his torso. Fortunately, that allowed Aiden to swing high and smack the Thane square on the side of his head with the branch. The Thane backed away and swung his hammer out wildly, obviously angry about his lapse in defense – and for getting smacked in the head, probably. But that's exactly what Aiden needed right now. He needed the Thane's attention, so he started backing away, drawing the Thane after him. When he saw that he had his attention, he turned and started running toward the riverbank. Toward the goblins.

"Stay with us!" Aiden yelled to Finias as he led the Thane away. "And shoot him!"

"I'm trying!" Finias fired off a shot that just missed the Thane's shoulder, striking a tree nearby instead. He grimaced with the effort, then shouted back. "In case you forgot you hit me in the arm with a rock!"

Aiden ran through the trees, constantly glancing back to make sure the Thane was right behind him, and the Thane didn't disappoint. It took nearly a minute of running and sidestepping around trees and shrubbery before the forest thinned out and he reached a narrow clearing that edged up against the river. He looked left and then right before finally spotting the small batch of huts about fifty yards down the bank that a clan of goblins called home. The Thane had fallen behind a bit since he was carrying about fifty pounds of armor and weapons on him, so Aiden had enough of a lead to do what he needed to do. He started running for the village, shouting like a mad man.

At first there was only one curious goblin peeking out of the front door of his half-sized hut, watching in confusion as Aiden came charging down the riverbank towards him. But as soon as he squealed out a warning, about eight more suddenly appeared from their own huts, quickly brandishing weapons and shields. The goblins in Albion were small creatures, the tallest coming up to a man's waist, with thin, sinewy arms and legs under leathery, faded green skin. They had long, thin faces and long protruding noses, with small bug-eyes peering out from a prominent forehead. They weren't strong, but they were quick and fierce, and dangerous when attacking as a group. They used swords and spears for hunting and fighting, and while a goblin sword would be little more than a dagger for Aiden, their spears would be strong enough to pierce a Thane's chain armor.

Aiden ran towards the closest goblin he could see with a weapon, a long-handled hunting spear. The goblin tried to stick it in his gut as he approached, but Aiden easily sidestepped the thrust, then grabbed the spear and yanked it out of the goblin's hand. The goblin shrieked at him, but Aiden just kicked him in the chest, sending him tumbling away. He saw several more running toward him, yelling at him in their gibbering nonsense that passed for a language, and he immediately targeted the one carrying a big shield. As he ran toward the pack of goblins, he glanced back to see the Thane pulling up and raising his hands to the sky. Aiden knew he had only seconds to get that shield before things became much more complicated, so he ran through the four goblins that were now trying to flank him, parried a sword strike with his spear, then grabbed the edge of the goblin's shield with as strong a grip as he could manage just as the sky above them began to roar.

Blue energy crackled in the air around them as the hammers pounded Aiden and the goblins. Aiden was knocked down to his knees, while the four goblins around him were thrown in four different directions. The goblin with the shield flew off his feet, but Aiden kept his grip on the edge of that shield. When the goblin landed, Aiden threw himself forward, close enough to prod the goblin away with the butt of his spear. The goblin, terrified of the hammers, let go and started running back to the village, where dozens more goblins, mostly women and children, were watching with a terrible fascination.

Most of the goblins still running toward him from the village had stopped or turned back, afraid of what they'd just seen – goblins were incredibly superstitious – but a few hardy ones kept on. One of the goblins nearby, undaunted by the hammers, attacked Aiden with his own spear. Aiden didn't really want to hurt any of them, at least not badly, so he just flung the shield out by its strap and broadsided the goblin with it, knocking him down. He slid his left hand through the loops on the shield, which were a bit tight for him, hefted the spear in his right, and with a renewed sense of vigor, he charged forward, ready to finish this fight one way or another.

The Thane called forth his hammers again, but Aiden was ready for them. He threw himself forward into a roll as the hammers pounded the earth behind him, scattering the chasing goblins. Aiden leaped up from his roll and lunged forward with his spear, and the Thane ducked to his side and responded by swinging his hammer out wide. Aiden managed to jump back but the hammer caught the edge of his shield, and he suddenly worried how many hits it could take from a weapon that size. An arrow whizzed by the Thane's head, and they both glanced over to see Finias standing at the tree line. The Thane decided to ignore him for now, and swung wide again. Aiden jumped back again, but this time he used the Thane's long backswing to his advantage and jumped in close, trying to hook him with his shield arm and hold him in place while he jabbed him with the spear. The Thane pushed him off, then shouted his bellow again, trying to knock Aiden off his feet, but the cagey Armsman was prepared for that, and he held his ground against the buffeting wind from that spell.

Another arrow flew by, this time clipping the Thane on the side of his hand. It didn't pierce the armor, but he definitely took notice this time, and visibly contemplated breaking off to attack Finias instead.

"Don't scare him!" Aiden shouted, not taking his eyes off the Thane. "Kill him!"

Aiden lunged with the spear, trying to keep the Thane focused on him. The Thane parried away the spear and just stood there, though. He was obviously trying to stay on the defensive now, which would make things difficult if Finias couldn't just kill him. Aiden shook his head and leaped forward with a feint to the Thane's head. The Thane just leaned away, so Aiden swung the spear again, and again. Each time, the Thane knocked the thrust away with his hammer or simply sidestepped. Aiden finally grew frustrated and decided to gamble. He feinted low with his spear, going for the legs, and deliberately lowered his shield to leave an opening for the Thane. The Thane hesitated, but he took the bait. After dodging the feint, he raised his hammer and swung down, and Aiden quickly raised his shield and prayed it would hold.

Aiden felt the wood crack as the hammer hit the shield, but that gave him the opening he needed. He leaned in and thrust the spear down, and it dug deeply into the Thane's thigh. He cried out, and yanked his leg away, freeing it from the spear, but Aiden just spun around and thrust the butt end of the spear into his gut, sending him staggering back, clutching his stomach with one hand and his leg with the other. Aiden sensed the advantage now – finally – and he was determined to end this. He strode forward, ready for another feint and thrust, only this one would be fatal. He hefted his spear up and decided that this time he'd be aiming for the heart.

Suddenly, an arrow stuck into the Thane's throat. The Thane's head jerked back and his eyes went wide. He dropped his hammer and started clutching at his throat helplessly as blood poured out of the wound. Aiden turned to see Finias standing at the edge of the treeline, readying another arrow. A second ago he'd been ready to kill the Thane himself, but he waited instead, and watched as Finias knocked the next arrow, pulled it back, and – after a moment's hesitation – let it fly. The arrow sailed across the clearing and pierced into the skull of the Norseman, and the momentum of the impact carried him over, toppling him onto his side, dead before he hit the ground.

Aiden walked up next to the body and stared at his vanquished enemy. Blood was still pouring from his throat, but there was no movement, no breathing, no nothing. Aiden finally let himself take a deep breath, reveling in the knowledge that it was done. The Thane was dead, the old Highlander couple – and who knows who else – were avenged, and they could finally take the body to Camelot and get their due reward. He smiled, barely, and turned to look at Finias, expecting to see the same. But there was no smile, no sly expression, no flippant remarks. All Aiden could see was a young man, barely out of teens, with a look on his face that he'd seen a hundred times before in the realm wars. It was the look of a man who had just taken his first life, and realizing that there was no going back.

Chapter 4

Aiden and Finias spent almost an hour carrying the Thane's body back to Camelot, and as the looming city gates came into view over the horizon Aiden was surprised to find himself feeling a little excited. Ever since he'd been accused of cowardice and branded as such on his face he'd despised the place and feared going back there. Going to Camelot, the capitol city of Albion, was a difficult task for him because it was too crowded and too easy for someone to see him, and notice his mark. The people there would speak to him normally at first, but as soon as they saw his brand their face would change, sometimes obviously, especially anyone who'd been in the realm wars recently. And if it was hard to see that in a village like Humberton, where he'd come across a few dozen people at most, it was a hundred times worse in Camelot.

But today was different. Today he would be returning a hero. He'd killed the Thane that had murdered two Highlander merchants on the east road from Humberton, and he was bringing the body back to claim his due. Technically, Finias had provided the killing shot, but they'd fought him together, and Aiden had been the one to push them both into the battle. Their reward would be gold, which would please Finias, and honor, which would please Aiden. Tonight would be the beginning of his road back to respectability, and maybe even to his former spot in the army, fighting for his nation in the realm wars. He hated those who'd branded him, and who had spurned him since, but he loved this land, and he desperately missed fighting for it. After tonight, he'd be one step closer.

After they killed the Thane, Aiden had made peace with the goblins by trading his food for some rope. Normally, it would have been a terrible deal - rope wasn't that hard to find - but Aiden wanted the goblins to leave them alone while they tied up the body and carried him away. And it kept him from feeling too guilty about keeping the spear he'd pried away from one unlucky goblin. They'd used the rope to create two crude harnesses, one for the Thane's shoulders and one for his feet. Aiden carried one end of the Thane by looping the shoulder harness rope over his shoulder, while Finias did the same with his feet, and the two of them slowly lugged the body, still wearing the heavy chain armor, out of the forest and back to the road.

Finias barely spoke the entire trip back, which Aiden found odd. He didn't see the young Scout as the quiet, introspective type. In fact, he expected him to boast the entire walk back to the city, but he didn't even do that. Aiden made one attempt at conversation with him shortly after reaching the path to Humberton, asking Finias what he'd spend his money on, but he'd only replied with a terse, distant "I don't know." Aiden suspected that he knew what was on the boy's mind, though, so he let him be. Besides, they'd both just survived a battle that they were lucky to win, not to mention one they shouldn't have been in to start with. Now was as good a time as any to be introspective.

The sun was setting as they reached the outskirts of Humberton, and nearly everyone was inside by now. One old man was sitting on a chair outside his small, stone house, and he watched the two of them curiously as they trudged slowly along the road just east of town. Aiden wondered what that old man must be thinking or whether he'd say something, but he never left his chair and he never said a word. Once they'd passed Humberton, all that was left was a short, straight stretch of road bounded on either side by a row of inscribed Roman columns that led right up to the north gates of Camelot. They'd no doubt find someone there eager to take the Thane off their hands, which by now a sore and aching Aiden would more than appreciate.

Standing ahead of them at the gates were four guards, Armsmen, none of whom looked to be that interested in keeping an eye on things. Three were standing in a bunch, talking and laughing, while the fourth was leaning against the wall, staring at the ground, trying to keep his eyes open. They'd have heard about the Thane by now, but they must not have expected anything to come of it this very moment. But when they saw Aiden and Finias approach they started paying attention. Even the sleepy one was alert as they all gathered to watch the travelers approach their station.

Carrying a body can do that, Aiden thought.

One of the three talkative guards, probably the watch leader, walked up to them before they reached the actual gate. He held up his hand and looked curiously at the Thane's body.

"What is this?" He asked.

"This is the Thane," Aiden said, keeping his head down. He had his hood on, but that wouldn't help him much if he looked the guard in the eyes. "The one that killed some merchants outside Humberton."

The guard just stared at the body, then at the two of them, then back at the body.

"You killed him?" He asked, incredulously.

"Aye. We both did." Aiden nodded back toward Finias.

The guard stepped closer, trying to get a better look at Aiden, and he fought the urge to look away. Hiding his face now would be too obvious, so he just stood there and let the guard stare at him. His eyes narrowed when he saw the brand, and Aiden avoided the gaze by looking at the other guards. The watch leader didn't say anything to him, but Aiden could already feel every thought that was going through his mind. He'd come to know them all by now. Finally, the guard turned away and held up his hand to the others.

"Open the doors!" He said. Two of the guards started pulling one of the gates, opening it enough to allow them to pass through. The watch leader walked in with them and shouted at some more guards standing around at the base of a watch tower just inside the walls. "You two," he pointed at the two closest to him, then motioned to the Thane, "take this to the Palace."

The two guards jogged up and took the rope harnesses from Aiden and Finias, who eagerly slid them off. Once they had the body secured, the watch leader motioned them all along as he led the way to the Palace of Camelot City, where King Arthur himself once ruled. Of course, that was long ago, and most of the realm had moved on since his death nearly thirty years ago - a death that fractured the realms and led to the current wars with Midgard and Hibernia. But there were still reminders all about of his legacy, including the famed Round Table that still sat in the Palace to this day, used by King Constantine, Arthur's successor, when he held his own Council.

Aiden caught himself admiring the city as they walked along the wide stone-cobbled streets. He'd been here many times before when he was younger, and even though he'd not been back for almost two years, he found that everything he remembered was just as it was in the old days. The cathedral-like Church of Albion still loomed over the road to his left, towering over the entire northern section of the city. The entrance to the underground Catacombs still sat nestled against the outer wall, facing the back of the church. He was sure that deeper in the city he'd still find the Academy, the stables, and the market all as he left them, and even the guild halls for the Defenders of Albion, where he'd spent a good portion of his younger years training to be an Armsman.

But they weren't going that way tonight. Just past the Church they took a right down another wide path, which then led to a left that led straight up to the outer walls of Palace. As they approached, the watch leader slowed down and motioned the guards carrying the Thane to go ahead. He then pointed to a stone bench nearby and looked at Aiden and Finias.

"Wait there, while we announce you." He said. That seemed odd to Aiden. He'd expected that they'd be there when the body was brought in, so they could be properly recognized. Why would they have to wait outside for that? Aiden just nodded, though, and watched the guards walk through the large wooden gates and into the Palace. He didn't want to mess up his chance to reclaim his honor by complaining. He was starting to feel anxious about all of this, and he figured he needed a minute to gather his thoughts anyway, so he sat down. Finias seemed a bit agitated by having to wait, shaking his head at the guards as they disappeared through the gates, but after a moment, he sat down as well.

They sat in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts. Aiden couldn't help but wonder what this would mean for him. He had to keep his expectations low because he knew deep down that his life wasn't going to completely turn around tonight. But it was hard not to want the last two years to just disappear, and for everything to be back the way it was. He missed his old life dearly, and he wanted it back more than anything, but he had to temper himself. The most he could honestly expect from this was a small reward and maybe some kind words, or a proclamation at the most. The brand wouldn't go away – at least not without some Clerics willing to go to a lot of trouble – but he hoped that killing this Thane would at least start the process of healing his reputation, just enough to lessen the burden and the shame he felt when people saw him. He wanted so much more than that, but for tonight, he was willing to accept less, a lot less, as long as he knew things were headed back up for him.

All he wanted was hope.

"So," Finias began, breaking the silence, "just how big a reward do you think this is worth?"

Aiden shrugged. "I don't know. I would guess at least a few gold. Each."

"That's it?" Finias seemed disappointed. He thought about that for a few moments, then, "That seems low."

"Perhaps." Aiden agreed. He glanced over at the young Scout, who was staring down at the ground, all of his frivolity and arrogance gone. Aiden barely knew him, but he was certain that this wasn't the same man he'd met a couple hours ago. He wondered again about his initial impressions of Finias, and he became more and more convinced he'd been right on every count. "You've never killed a man, before, have you?"
Finias looked at him in surprise, then quickly looked away. He forced a laugh out. "You can't be serious. Have you forgotten how we met?"

"You're right." Aiden nodded slowly, faking thoughtfulness. "I apologize."

"As well you should."

"Tell me about it, then."

"About what?"

"The first time you killed a man."

"You don't believe me?"

"Of course I do. I just want to hear the story."

"You first."
"Fine." Aiden said. "It was an elf. A Nightshade, surprisingly enough. I'd been sent out with a small group to garrison the mile gate in preparation for a raid force that was coming out shortly after us. Before we got there we were ambushed by an advance force of Hibs." Aiden smiled for a second as the memories of it came back to him. "They hit us from behind, and if one of us hadn't been keeping a close eye on our surroundings, it would have been over fast. Fortunately, it wasn't. In fact, it was a spectacular battle... and it's the most vivid memory I have of my time in the frontiers."

Aiden sighed, remembering the details of that afternoon. The clanging of swords on shields, the sting of sweat running into his eyes, the heat from a blaze of fire one of his Wizard realm mates cast and the smell of smoke afterward. He wanted to feel it all again.

"Anyway," he continued, "we fought back and forth for at least five minutes, neither side really able to take the advantage, and of course all I did was stand there looking like an idiot. That's all you do your first few times. You try not to screw up what your mates are trying to do. But after a few minutes, another patrol group of albs found us and we managed to turn the tide and slaughter all the Hibs. I'd contributed almost nothing to the fight, but I saw a Nightshade trying to run away, so I pulled out my crossbow, chased after him, aimed for his head – and ended up shooting him in the calf instead. He stumbled, so I ran over there and pulled out my sword."

"He tried to fight back, but he was already hurt pretty bad, and I was too eager to prove myself, and make up for not doing enough earlier. So I killed him. I did my duty and I drove my blade right through his gut, and he died." He paused for a few seconds, letting the memories flow through his mind. "But, I realized afterward that I'd seen something in his eyes just before. It wasn't fear, I don't think he was afraid for his life. I think it was just sadness. I think he just wanted to get away and go home, and he was sad that he couldn't. That I was taking that from him. For a long time I wondered if I would have held my blade if I'd recognized that sooner. If I would have just let him go." Aiden let his voice trail off.

"And?" Finias said, filling the void. "Would you?"

"No." Aiden finally responded. "I wouldn't."

They were both quiet for a long moment.

"So, you remember it all that clearly?" Finias asked. "The whole thing?"

"You never forget it." Aiden said, and then flinched when he realized what he was telling his young companion. Finias was obviously an excellent shot, but Aiden was sure he'd never killed anyone before tonight, and now he was trying to come to terms with that. And he certainly didn't need anyone telling him that he'd relive that moment for the rest of his life. He wondered if that's why Finias was out here in the woods in the first place, and not putting his talents to use in the realm wars. Maybe he'd never had it in him before now.

"So, you want to hear the story of my first kill?" Finias asked.

"No." Aiden said. "You can tell me later."

They continued to sit quietly for another minute before finally hearing voices approach from the other side of the Palace gates. They each lifted their head up and listened, glancing at each other quickly, then watching the doors, waiting. When the doors finally did open, the watch leader stepped through along with five additional guards. Aiden wondered if they were an escort of some kind as he and Finias both stood up and took a couple anxious steps toward the approaching guards. The watch leader stopped in front of them and held out his hand, which was closed. He was holding something.

"Here's your reward." The watch leader said, dropping some coins into Aiden's hand first, and then into Finias'. "Now go home, and say nothing about this to anyone."

Finias looked at the coins curiously. "This is five silver."

"Yes it is." The watch leader responded with a stern tone. "Is that a problem?"

"I should think so." Finias responded, his voice starting to rise. "How is killing that thing only worth five silver?"

The watch leader scowled and stepped forward, standing as menacingly close to Finias as he could. The other guards started to get restless, too, as Aiden noticed two of them rest their hands on the hilts of their weapons.

"I think you should take your money, keep your mouths shut, and go home," the watch leader said, "before we decide that even five silver is too much for the likes of you."

Finias just stared back at him, either choosing not to back down or not realizing how dangerous this situation had become. None of this was turning out like Aiden had planned. He'd wanted little from tonight, just enough to prove to everyone that he was a better person than what his brand showed him to be, and he wasn't even getting that. In fact, he was very near to things getting far worse than he could have expected. They were in an empty street, at dusk, surrounded by guards who'd just cheated them of their rightful reward. One misstep, and they could end up in prison, or dead.

Aiden put his hand on Finias' shoulder. "Come on." Luckily, the Scout allowed himself to be pulled away from the confrontation, and the two of them walked back down the street as the guards stood their ground and watched them leave. Aiden led them back around the corner, trying not to look back, while Finias couldn't help but glare back at them constantly. Once around the corner, Aiden stopped where he was, closed his eyes and just shook his head.

"So what do we do now?" Finias asked, obviously annoyed. "We can't let them throw us out like that. They took the reward for themselves! That's why they kept us outside."

There would be no recognition. There would be no real reward. No one would know what he'd done and no one would even bother to believe him if he tried to tell them about it. The coward's brand might as well be a liar's brand now. Killing the Thane was the guards' victory tonight, not his, and any dream he might have had about turning things around tonight, any little glimmer of hope he was still holding on to, those were all just drifting away in the cool evening wind.

"Well?" Finias asked.

All of this had been for nothing, Aiden realized. Nothing.

"Say something, you lunk. What do we do?"

"We do nothing." Aiden said quietly. "This was a mistake."

"What? Nothing?" Finias shook his head in disbelief. "I didn't spend all evening chasing down some killer Norseman just so I could be robbed. Where are you going?"

Aiden had started walking again, heading back down the path toward the city gates. He stopped and barely glanced back at Finias, too ashamed to even look him in the eye.

"I'm going home." He said, and he continued walking down the path toward the gates.

Alone.

Chapter 5

Aiden hiked slowly along the narrow, tree-lined dirt path that led to his house in the hills south of the Black Mountains. The sun had set long ago, and the forest had completely surrendered to darkness. The trails out here could be a dangerous, twisting maze even in the sunlight, in darkness they were just short of treacherous, but Aiden knew this one intimately, and he could wander it without thinking and still make it home in good time. And that worked out well for him, because he wasn't thinking about where he was going. He was thinking about where he could have been.

All he had wanted was some hope. A glimmer of it, even. Just enough to let him know that God hadn't completely forgotten about him. Or to show that He wasn't playing a cruel joke with Aiden's life. He had nothing left. Nothing to strive for. Nothing to live for. But he'd always trudged on, persevering through all of his trials, waiting for the moment to arrive where he could take back his life. He was sure that moment had come tonight. And he'd let himself believe in it, only to see everything yanked away from him just when it mattered most. But he didn't hate God for that. He hated himself... for thinking he was more than a useless, cowardly old Armsman.

The path faded back into grass and the trees around him opened up into a small clearing where he could see the moonlight shining down on the roof of his small house. A shack, really. It was a single room, with enough space for a bedroll, a small table, a stove, a cupboard and some shelves. No one would ever call it fancy, or even quaint. But it kept the rain off and the wind out, and it was remote enough that few people ever bothered him. The wood was old and bent, and the roof constantly needed repairs, but Aiden didn't mind since it gave him something to do when he was tired of feeling sorry for himself.

A bark greeted him from the darkness, and a moment later a gray-haired dog wandered up to meet him, tail wagging.

"Hey, Bastion." Aiden said quietly, holding his hand out for the dog to sniff, then scratching absentmindedly behind his short, scruffy ears. Bastion was an old hunting dog that once belonged to a Briton a few miles away who'd died of old age. He'd found Aiden shortly after that and decided he liked it well enough around here that he'd stay for a while. Aiden couldn't really afford to keep him well fed, but he didn't mind having the company some days so he gave him what he could and let him stick around. The dog was pretty well past his prime now, mostly deaf, and rarely did anything except lay around and watch for forest critters to run by, but Aiden didn't care. It was someone to talk to that didn't care about the brand on his face, and that was enough for him.

Aiden opened the door to his house and walked inside, while the dog followed him in and settled down in his familiar spot near the stove. Aiden threw off his cloak, dropped his pack on the table, and leaned the goblin spear he was still carrying against the wall, then fished for the lantern sitting on the cupboard. Hit lit it and then kneeled down near the foot of his bedroll to unlock the heavy iron chest that sat nestled in the corner. Inside the chest were all of his weapons and armor from his time in the wars. At the bottom, face down, was his shield, with his armor pieces stacked up neatly on top. Laying on either side were two swords, one long, used for open field fighting, and one short, used in the brutal shield walls. He looked at it all and wished he'd had it when fighting the Thane. But really he wished for a chance to use it again. Instead, he just pulled out the bent merchant's sword that was hanging from his belt and tossed it into the chest. He closed it and locked it, then laid down on his bedroll, letting out a long, slow sigh. All he wanted right now was to just clear his mind and go to sleep and hopefully forget everything that had happened tonight.

But he couldn't forget. He never did.

This one's for you, father. I hope you're happy now.

Finias lifted the heavy mug of ale and drank, sucking it all down in one long gulp after another. It tasted suspiciously watery, but he didn't care. It wasn't the ale on his mind tonight. He was still in Camelot, at a tavern called Ye Mug, a loud, raucous place on the corner of Fountain Square, in the eastern part of the city. He was sitting alone at a small table in the back of the room, his Scout instincts helping him keep a low profile. He'd been here for about an hour now, watching the Britons, Saracens, Highlanders and even an Avalonian or two drink, sing, and laugh all around him. Finias wasn't here to get drunk with them, though. He was here because he needed to be around other people. He wanted to be somewhere where he could peer into someone else's life and not have to think about his own.

"One more." He said to a passing barmaid, a pretty young woman with dark hair, who looked so flustered that Finias suspected she was new. "And some of that Yarley's sausage."

No matter how intently he watched the other denizens of the tavern, though, he had trouble getting the day's events out of his mind. He was angry about getting cheated out of his full reward by the guards and he was incredibly annoyed by Aiden's cowardice after the old fool had spent all evening riling Finias up to his cause. But those were small things. What really troubled him was the Thane, who was dead by Finias' own hand. He'd killed him. He'd aimed for his neck and head, fired both shots, and those arrows hit exactly where he'd wanted them to hit. There was no mistake. He didn't kill him by accident. He'd done it entirely on purpose, because he wanted to, and now he couldn't stop seeing the Thane's body in his head, arrows protruding from his neck and skull, blood everywhere. But the worst part of it all, what had him sitting in this tavern drinking watery ale, is that he wanted to be sick about it, but he wasn't. He didn't feel nearly as bad about this as he should.

I did it because it had to be done, he thought. I did the right thing.

He needed to believe those words, even though they felt shallow. He remembered what Aiden had said about killing that elf, his first kill. He'd told Finias that he didn't have any mercy for that elf, even after seeing in his eyes his last desire. That was duty, though, right? Aiden was a soldier, in a battle, and he'd killed someone who had been trying to kill him just moments earlier.

He did what had to be done. Just like the Thane.

Finias desperately wanted to believe that he'd done the same thing. That he'd done his duty, for Aiden, for the memories of the dead merchants, for the realm. He was a soldier, and tonight his battle had been stopping that Thane. He wasn't a murderer. Not like his father, and his brother. Not ever like them. He was a soldier. At least for one short night.

His rumination was interrupted when he realized a man had approached his table. Finias looked up and saw a middle-aged Briton with long, graying hair standing nervously at the other end of his table. He wore ratty-looking, brown woolen robes, and was leaning on a thin wooden staff. He guessed the man was a Friar who'd fallen on hard times lately, because he looked to have lived a very hard life. In fact, he'd have thought him a beggar if beggars were allowed in the taverns. Finias watched him raise a fidgety hand in greeting, and Finias nodded back but didn't say anything. The Friar looked like he was about to sit down in the extra chair, but then stopped himself awkwardly and looked to Finias for permission. Finias nodded, slightly amused now that the ale was starting to kick in, and the Friar sat down.

He sat nervously in the chair, and kept leaning forward like he was about to say something, then changing his mind at the last second and looking away at the crowd of patrons instead. This happened five times before Finias decided he couldn't take it anymore.
"I don't have any coin for you." He said loudly, over the din of several Highlanders singing at the next table. The Friar looked at Finias and muttered something that no one could possibly hear.

"What?" Finias said, leaning closer. The Friar looked uncomfortable, and he scanned the crowd again before finally leaning in closer.

"I'm not a beggar." He said, just loud enough to hear.

"Then who are you?"

"I-I'm Riordann." He replied, stammering.

"Riordann?" Finias asked, and the Friar nodded, then scanned the crowd again. The man was awfully fidgety. He was constantly either wringing his hands or rubbing his face. His erratic behavior made Finias wonder if he might be sick or even a little mad.

"I-I-I saw you." He said, stammering. "With the Thane."

"Aye?"

"You killed him?" The Friar asked. "You and – and – and the other man?"

"Yeah." Finias gave Riordann a fake smile and took a quick drink. "But I've been told that I can't really talk about it."

"You're in danger." Riordann said in a loud whisper.

"What?"

"You're in danger, here." He repeated, louder this time. "I have to talk to you, outside."

Finias narrowed his eyes at the slightly crazy man sitting across from him. That was certainly an odd request, and he didn't normally follow slightly crazy men he'd just met in a tavern outside into the street at night, but he found himself intrigued by whatever this Friar had to tell him. Tonight had already been dangerous, thrilling and completely unpredictable so the chances were pretty good by now that the rest of it would be ridiculously mundane and he wouldn't be walking into something dangerous. Besides, right now he was willing to throw his reservations aside for a while if it gave him something else to mope about besides his own life. Either that or the ale was a lot stronger than he'd first thought.

"Sure. What the hell." Finias said, and started walking towards the door.

"No. Not the front door." Riordann said. "The back. We should go out the back."

Even more foolish, Finias thought wryly, but he still didn't care so he followed Riordann through the crowds and out the tavern's back door. The door led into a narrow, dimly lit alley that was crowded with wooden crates and boxes, small piles of hay and trash, and linens hanging from windows. At first glance it seemed to be empty, but there were so many hiding places that it was impossible to be sure. Finias smiled a bit at that, wondering just how completely stupid he was being, and how little he cared. Still, he had just enough self-preservation in him right now to at least let his hand rest on the hilt of his sword. Casually, of course.

"You're in danger." Riordann began cautiously, after also scanning the alley.

"You mentioned that already. From what?"

"From them!" Riordann pointed vaguely off in the distance. "The men you gave him too."

"The guards?"

"No. No, not just them." Riordann looked around again, then lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "The people at the palace. The King and his councilors."

Finias began to wonder if Riordann was crazier than he initially thought. "The King is after me?" He asked.
"Not him. Not exactly. It's his men. They don't want anyone to know about them. About what you found. They're keeping it all a secret. That's why you and your friend are in danger."

"Uh huh." Finias nodded slowly. He was close to laughing at the absurdity of it all, but he decided that he curious enough to see where this was going, and laughing out loud at this poor man wouldn't make that easy. "A Thane wanders by Humberton of all places, kills people in broad daylight, and that's supposed to stay a secret? Sounds like they have their work cut out for them."

"Listen. You have to listen to me." Riordann said, nearly pleading. The look on his face clearly told Finias that he was formulating his argument as he went along. "I did what you did. I found something like you did, and they threw me in jail for it. For three months!"

"Three months? Wow. For finding a Thane?"

"No. No, not-not exactly. It wasn't a Thane. It was... something, though. And they threw me in jail for it. For warning them!"

Finias made a show of looking up and down the alley. "You don't look like you're in jail right now."

"I escaped! I got out, because... because I have to fix it."

"I think, Riordann, that maybe you just need to go home and get some sleep."

"No! No sleep. No, I-I-I need to fix this. And I need help. From both of you."

"You too, huh?" Finias shook his head. His curiosity was quickly turning to boredom. "Do I have a sign over my head that just draws you loons in from all over?"

"I'm not a loon." Riordann said slowly, obviously getting frustrated. "Listen. The Thane... he-he wasn't just a Thane was he?"

That struck a chord, and Finias eyed the old Friar carefully. "What do you mean?"

Riordann smiled. "I'm right, aren't I? It was one of them? A fourth realmer?"

"Start making some sense." Finias stepped closer to Riordann. He was now taking this conversation much more seriously. "What's a fourth realmer?"

"It's what I call them. They're Midgardians, Hibernians, even our own Albion brothers, but they've forgotten who they are. They fight together, against all the rest of us and they share their abilities. Warriors with magic and stealth, mostly, but I'm sure it works the other way, too. They're not of the three realms, so they're fourth realmers. And they're coming for us."

"How do you know this?"

"I told you. We found them, in the frontier first. But now they're here."

"Who is 'we'?" Finias asked. Riordann was slow to respond.

"My friends." He said finally, but he looked away from Finias as he spoke. "My friends and I found them."

"Where are your friends, Riordann?"

"They're dead. Like you will be soon."

Finias was struggling to push past the effects of the ale so he could make sense of what he was hearing. This story could all be in Riordann's head, even his supposed friends. But he seemed genuinely distracted by the thought of them. And he'd known about the Thane's ability to stealth. Well, not stealth specifically, but who else would know anything about that besides Aiden and himself... unless he was telling the truth.

"This is my fault." Riordann said to no one in particular. "I found them first, and... and I told them about it. Now they want to keep it a secret so they can use it, but you know now." He looked at Finias with scared eyes. "Now you know."

"Who exactly is coming for me?"

"They're not stupid." Riordann continued as if Finias hadn't spoken. "They let you think everything is normal, then they come and take you in the middle of the night." He looked up at the night sky. "Nights like this."

"Riordann, look at me." Finias grabbed the Friar's shoulders. "Now, let's just suppose that all of this is true. What do you suggest we do about it?"

"You have to let me help you fix this." Riordann said, finally looking Finias in the eye.

"Okay. How do we fix it?"

"We have to find your friend." He said. "We need him too. We can't do this alone."

Chapter 6

"Something moved over there." Riordann pointed at the darkness between two houses in the distance, his hand visibly shaking with what Finias assumed was nervous tension.

"I'll go check it out." Finias assured him as he started jogging in that direction.

They'd left Camelot about half an hour ago, ignoring the curious gazes from the gate guards on night duty, of whom Riordann was especially wary. He'd claimed to have escaped from a dungeon in Camelot only days ago, and he told Finias on the way out that he'd been too afraid to try and leave for fear that they would recognize him and throw him right back into that dank prison. Finias had spent nearly the entire previous hour convincing him that they would be just fine walking through the gate as long as he stuck to the ruse that he was Finias' drunk father. It had worked just fine, too, because Riordann's overly nervous demeanor had only served to sell the guise even more than expected.

Now the two of them were in Humberton, the village just outside the north gate of Camelot. It was the middle of the night and the two of them were randomly knocking on doors, waking everyone up in the hope that someone here would know where Aiden lived, or could at least point them in the right direction. Riordann was adamant that they needed his help to save them from the trouble they were in, though Finias had no idea why he was so necessary. He figured they could just leave him a note here in town warning him that he may be in danger, because what good was a cowardly old Armsman to them at a time like this? In fact, if Riordann wasn't so eager to find him Finias would have suggested they just move on without him, especially since locating him was no easy task.

They'd waken people at five different houses so far, each more aggravated by the intrusion than the last. They'd awoken one especially angry old man who yelled at them for a good two minutes before Riordann calmed him by apologizing profusely. The worst part, though, was that they all knew who he was - the Coward from the Black Mountains – but no one could be more specific than that in describing where he lived. They just pointed off to the north and expected that to be enough to track down one man in the hills in the middle of the night. When pressed for more information, one of the villagers told them "He lives in the woods, you crazy buggers. It's not like they number the lots out there", and that had been the most useful information they'd received so far tonight.

Finias let his annoyances fade to the background, however, as he slowly approached the two houses Riordann had pointed out. He was walking as softly as he could, keeping his keen eyes focused on the darkness, looking for any sign of movement. He wasn't stealthed, although he was fighting the urge to do it, albeit just for show. He was sure he'd know if they were being followed, and he didn't think they were, despite Riordann's protestations. If they were being followed he'd know what signs to look for, and he would be stealthed, and right now he was comfortably secure enough to think that they weren't. But he'd let Riordann's anxiety get to him so he wanted to be sure, and he wanted Riordann to calm down so he dutifully checked things out for him – the fourth time he'd done so since leaving Camelot.

He reached the corner of the first house and peeked around. He stayed silent, scanning the darkness for anything that would betray movement. An oak tree stood proudly in the grass behind the two houses, a few of it's branches swaying in the gentle breeze. But other than the rustling leaves, nothing out here was moving. If someone was following them, he was damn good at it. So good, in fact, that Finias wouldn't be able to spot him anyway. So why worry about something he couldn't do anything about?

"Nothing." He said as he jogged back toward the Friar. Riordann just nodded quickly while anxiously checking their surroundings. When he'd first met the old Friar this evening Finias was completely sure he was talking to a stark raving lunatic whose claims of death and danger around every corner were just delusions of an old man and his ale. But now, somehow, he'd let himself be convinced that maybe someone really was after him for his role in killing the mad Thane that had terrorized them just a few short hours ago. Riordann had mentioned things about the Thane he shouldn't have known, things only Aiden and himself would know, so now Finias believed some of the old Friar's rants. To a point. There was still a small part of him that wondered if this was all a giant waste of time.

"Is this how they got you?" Finias asked while the two of them walked slowly toward the next house. "Sneaking up on you in the middle of the night?"

Riordann nodded. "Infiltrators. I was in Camelot, at one of the Inns in the city. The King's Chamberlain arranged for us to stay there the night we came back from... from finding them. That night, Infiltrators snuck in and took me in my sleep."

Finias pursed his lips. He knew Infiltrators well. They were men and women trained in the art of stealth, poisons, and death. They were spies and assassins, mostly, and they were not to be trifled with if you could help it.

"That's why we had to stay in the city and not at the palace." Riordann continued. "People had to see us. They had to see me go into my room there and never come out, to keep suspicion off the King's men. To everyone there, I probably just left in the middle of the night. Or I snuck away, or went mad, or whatever other rumor was spread to keep suspicion off the King's men."

Finias caught himself wondering if he really believed Riordann's tale. Maybe it was true, or maybe it wasn't. Claiming to be taken in the night by Infiltrators sounded like a story children would tell to scare each other, not a Friar twenty years older than him. Maybe he really did go mad and he'd just made the whole thing up. It was only a passing thought, one of several he'd had tonight about this crazy little jaunt with a madman, but it had jogged his memory, reminding him that he didn't know many of the details about this endeavor. Details he should have asked about much sooner.

"Now that I think about it, you haven't told me where we're going." He asked, trying to sound casual.

Riordann looked off in the distance, but not at anything in particular. "Away from here." He said. "Away from them."

Finias rolled his eyes. "That's... vague. I'm sure you've considered a more specific location?"

Riordann was silent for a long moment, and his gaze subtly shifted from scanning their surroundings to looking at the ground. "We need to go north. They can't find us as easily in the frontier."

"Ahhh. The frontier." Finias nodded in mock agreement. "You're right. Hiding is a war zone is much safer."

"We'll have Aiden with us."
"Oh, of course. Him. That should keep the mighty armies of Midgard and Hibernia at bay. One Armsman." Finias chuckled. "You know he's been branded a coward, right?"

"Is he?"

Finias shrugged. "The large brand on his cheek says he his."

"His brand says he is?" Riordann smiled at his own question, which unnerved Finias because he hadn't seen that expression from him yet. "You fought with him, didn't you? What do you say?"

Finias smiled back, ready to give another retort but he found himself strangely silent. He had nothing to say to that, mostly because the Friar was right. He'd seen Aiden in battle, fighting the Thane, and there had been no hint of cowardice there. Sure, he'd walked away from a fight with the guards in Camelot but that didn't make him a coward – even though he'd thought him one at the time – and in hindsight it was probably the smart thing to do for both of them. If he were to be completely honest, if Aiden didn't have the Coward's Brand on his cheek, Finias would have never thought him one.

Riordann glanced at Finias knowingly. "Aiden will do his best to protect us. It's who he is." He walked on toward the next house, no doubt expecting Finias to just follow along. To his own surprise, Finias did, wondering again who this strange old man was. This crazy old Friar who spent one minute seeing monsters in the dark, and the other acting the wise, soothing grandfather. Maybe Riordann was crazier than Finias realized. Either that, or he was far, far smarter.

It took some doing, but they finally found their way toward what they hoped was Aiden's house. A small stone fort sat on the hill just behind Humberton, and one of the guards on the night watch had a friend who'd once served with Aiden many years ago. He didn't know exactly where the old Armsman lived, but he'd heard it was just west of the Black Mountain homesteaders who lived in the remote woods just south of the mountains. He was able to point them in the right direction, and once they were on their way Finias was able to navigate the paths through the forest with ease.

Before leaving the fort, though, Finias asked the guard why Aiden had been branded. Riordann's words had stirred something in him, and now he was curious why a man who had seemed to be such a formidable warrior, and who'd fought in the realm wars for years would suddenly become a coward. The guard just shrugged and said he'd deserted his men during a fight, but he couldn't offer any more information than that. Finias knew there was more to the story, though. He'd seen seen it firsthand, and now he was more than just curious about the whole matter. He needed to know who this man was who'd somehow dragged him into this nightmare. In fact, now he was looking forward to finding him tonight, so he could just ask the old Armsmen himself what he'd done to be marked for life.

It had taken them a good hour of trekking through the paths before they reached the homesteaders, a collection of hundreds of shoddy huts and shacks scattered amongst a number of clearings in the woods. The homesteaders were a community all their own, backwoods hunters and farmers, small-time traders and thieves, outlaws and people just looking to get by without interference from Albion law. This area was remote and hard to get to, so guards rarely came out this way, and tax collectors and census takers had long ago given up trying to get money or information from anyone out here. The homesteaders ignored the Crown's laws and just made their own, respecting their neighbor's privacy and reason for being out here, but demanding enough common sense to not prey on each other. This was where the forgotten people of Albion lived. And, of course, Aiden was beyond even them.

They'd moved quietly past two small groupings of shacks they saw, trying not to alert anyone to their skulking about, and took the first west-leading path they found. The trail was narrow but navigable, despite the scarce moonlight that streaked through the forest canopy. The branches hung low, however, and after a couple scratches to the face, they'd slowed their pace and spent more time ducking under and around them. That only added to Riordann's anxiety, though, making him even jumpier now than he was in Humberton. And that was pushing Finias even closer to his breaking point.

"There's someone over there." Riordan pointed at the darkness between two trees in the distance, then became aware that he was pointing and pulled his hand back, pretending to play with his sleeve.

"No, there's not." Finias replied sourly, not even bothering to look.

"There is." Riordaan protested. "I know I saw someone this time. Someone moved over there."

"Ok." Finias said, not stopping.

"Shouldn't you go check?"

"No."

Riordann jogged up alongside Finias and leaned close, whispering. "But-but that could be them! They could be here!"

"Well, that would just be awful for you."

Riordann stopped, a look of shock on his face. "Don't you care about this? Don't you care about what happens to us?"

Finias sighed and turned back to the Friar. "You know what I think? I think the only thing moving in the darkness is you. I think you're so bloody fidgety that your head shook and you just thought it was the world around you."

Riordann frowned. "You've given up, haven't you?" He asked. A look of concern started to mix with the fear on his face."You can't just give up. Not now."

Finias shook his head and started walking again. "I haven't given up. I'm here aren't I? I'm still walking down this path, in the woods, in the middle of the night, surrounded by a darkness full of everything... oh, except Infiltrators stalking us for the King. No I certainly haven't given up."

Riordann just stood there, saying nothing as Finias continued down the path, ignoring him. It was a long moment before he finally heard the brisk footsteps of the old man trying to catch up. He glanced back to see the Friar trying to move up alongside him on the narrow, branch-lined path.

"They're guarding a treasure." He said furtively. "Where we're going."

"I'm sure there is." Finias responded, not really believing a word. "With mountains of gold and jewels."

"I'm telling you the truth. It was down there. Down... where we found them. Where we found the fourth realmers."

Finias stopped and sighed. He didn't know why he kept entertaining these notions, but for some reason this old man knew what Finias liked to hear. "Okay, then. What kind of treasure?"

"You have to understand something, first. It's-it's not... right. It's tainted treasure. Some of it. It's dark. You have to understand that."

"Understand what? It's still treasure, right? How do you taint gold?"

Riordann's face belied his desperation. He was painfully incapable of hiding whatever it was he was feeling. "I have to be careful, Finias. That's why I haven't said where it is. If everyone knew where the treasure was, they'd go looking for it, and they wouldn't understand – no, no that's not right. They wouldn't want to understand that they'd be walking into the same trap we did."

Finias considered that for a long moment. "Is that where we're going, then? Are we going back to the treasure? It's out in the frontier?"

"Yes" Riordann said after a short pause.

"But you won't say where it is?"

He shook his head. "I can't. Not yet. I'm sorry."

"Because it's too dangerous to know that?"

"Yes."

Finias just laughed. He'd had enough of this. "Well, of course. That would be too easy."

"I told you, I have to be careful."

"Then why tell me that? Why not just say we're going to a cave somewhere to kill another crazy Thane?"

Riordann took a deep breath. "Because I need your help. And because I don't know yet what motivates you more. I don't know if you care more about money or about honor. About yourself or about doing what's right."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Finias said sharply.

"What do you care about, Finias? That's an important question, because with the trouble we're in now, I need for you to care about this. Or we're going to die."

Finias was left speechless at that, at this old Friar's condemnation of him and his motivation. Of course he cared about what they were doing. He wouldn't be out here if he didn't, right? He wouldn't have walked out of the tavern, or left the city or spent half an hour waking up cranky old villagers if he didn't feel like he was doing something important. He didn't do anything unless it was important, unless he truly cared about it. And he was tired of being played for a fool.

"You know what I think? I think you're a crazy old man!" Finias said, his voice rising. He shook his head and started pacing around in a circle."How did I even let you talk me into coming out here? I was drunk, that's why. Stupid, Finias. So stupid. All you've actually done is tell me stories and point at every little sound in the dark like it's some bogeyman coming to get you. But you're just a beggar, or worse. Or-or maybe you're a madman seeing nightmares from his time in the wars. That's what you are. That's all that you are." Finias stood there for a moment, expecting Riordann to break down and plead with him, but the Friar wasn't even looking at him. He was staring over Finias' shoulder, unable to even look him in the eye. "And I'm done listening to you."

"You're wrong." Riordann said.

"No. I'm not." Finias replied harshly.

Riordann pointed behind Finias. "Then who are they?"

Finias turned, expecting to see some more shadows in the dark that Riordann was mistaking for assassins. But instead he saw several well-armed men appearing from the trees, men who didn't look like simple homesteaders out protecting their property. They wore expensive armor, their weapons were already drawn, and they were spread out trying to surround the two of them. It was at that moment, as Finias carefully reached for his sword, that he realized that Riordann had been right all along. They'd been followed and he'd missed it. He, of all people, had not realized before now that an armed party was tracking them. He'd made a terrible mistake, one that would probably get them both killed, because he'd let his guard down. As he eyed the men who were now carefully approaching them, he grabbed the hilt of his sword and pulled it from the sheath hanging at his thigh. And he prayed that he lived long enough to learn his lesson.

Chapter 7

It was the dog that woke him up.

Aiden stirred from his sleep to hear Bastion scratching at the door and whining, desperate to get outside. The old dog usually slept through the night, only rarely ever waking him to go out. And even on those nights when he did want out, he would make it clear with nothing more than a lazy whimper and a tired gaze. Tonight, however, he was trying to get out like the devil himself was prodding him.

"Hold on." Aiden groaned as he climbed up from his bedroll. In his groggy state, the events of the prior evening seemed distant and vague, and he was glad for that. But he knew the longer he was awake the faster those memories and feelings would come back to him, and he may never get back to sleep tonight if they did. So he was eager to just throw the door open, let the dog out and then fall right back to sleep. Before the horrible details of his life started to seep back in to his consciousness.

Before he could reach the door, though, Bastion's whining turned to barking. Loud, aggressive barking at something on the other side. Just as he was about to shush the dog, the door started to slowly open from the outside. Surprised, Aiden backed away and leaned against the wall on the hinged side of the door, waiting to see who was coming into his house, unannounced, in the middle of the night. Bastion did the same, staying near Aiden and well away from this intruder, but still barking like his life depended on it. The door closed as if being slowly pushed, but Aiden could see nothing in the darkness. The inside of the house was barely illuminated by slits of moonlight that streaked in through a few wooden slats in the roof and from the south-facing wall. It was impossible to see any kind of detail, whether the door was opened or closed, but Aiden could see shapes and edges, and he knew where everything in the room was supposed to be, so he had a pretty clear image in his mind of what was happening. But even with all that, he couldn't make out anything. Where he'd expected to see a person standing, there was nothing.

That's when he realized he was dealing with a stealther. Finias, Aiden thought.

Somehow the boy had found out where he lived and was probably here to finish what he'd started on that road outside Humberton - stealing his belongings. Aiden was in no mood for games, though, so he decided to teach the boy a lesson. He didn't want to hurt him, not really, but he did want him to know that he'd gone too far sneaking into his house in the middle of the night. He quickly grabbed the spear leaning on the wall next to him, and swung it out in a wide arc, aiming low for the shins. The spear struck something hard - his ankles, Aiden thought - and a figure appeared from the darkness, his stealth broken by the impact. He toppled forward to the ground, having been caught in mid stride by the blow.

Aiden firmed his grip on the spear shaft and jabbed the point down at the intruder's neck. He was fully prepared to give the young Scout a verbal tongue lashing, but now that he had the stealther lying prone on the ground, he hesitated because something didn't seem right. All he could see was a silhouette and a vague outline, but he was definitely sure that the figure below him was too short and bulky to be Finias, and the clothing he wore seemed off. Had he just caught some other stealther sneaking in his home in the middle of the night, completely by chance? No, that seemed too strange a coincidence, even given his adventure last night. He could be some other thief, maybe a homesteader looking to prey on one of his own. That kind of behavior was rare out here, but it wasn't unheard of. Aiden didn't really believe that, though, so he tapped his bare toes against the man's leg and felt what was unmistakenly some kind hardened leather armor.

His stomach turned. This wasn't Finias, and it wasn't some random burglar. It was an Infiltrator. Panic-fueled questions flooded his mind. Why would an Infiltrator be sneaking into his home at night? Infiltrators didn't break into houses to steal, they did it to kill. Quickly, silently and without mercy. What had Aiden done to warrant a death sentence? He pushed the spear against the man's neck, making it clear that the smallest jab would pierce his throat and kill him. Aiden knew from years of experience that you didn't play nice with Infiltrators, because they certainly wouldn't play nice with you.

"Who are you?" He asked, ignoring the dog, who was still barking.

The man said nothing. Aiden pushed down on the spear just enough to see the man squirm a little bit.

"You either talk to me, or you die. I know better than to let someone like you think you have any other options here."

Aiden wasn't sure, but he swore he saw the man smile in the darkness, and he wondered what could possibly make him so confident. Bastion's barking was incessant now, and it was past the point where he could think clearly. He looked over at the dog, about to yell at him to be quiet, but he saw that the barking wasn't directed at the man on the floor like he thought. He was barking toward the open space to his left, in front of the door. In front of the open door.

Aiden froze. There was another Infiltrator in here.

He knew immediately that he had no time to waste. In fact, the two seconds it would take to lunge the spear into the first Infiltrator's neck and pull it back out would give the second one enough time to stab Aiden in the back before he was ready. That left only one other option. He swung the spear out again, wide to his left, and clipped the second Infiltrator in the arm, breaking his stealth cover. He'd been in the process of leaping back out of the way when he got hit, and now that he was on the far side of the room, Aiden had enough space to bring the butt end of the spear back down onto the first man's head, cracking him in the skull and knocking him senseless.

The second one attacked, leaping forward, and Aiden just managed to move out of the way and bring the spear back to parry one of the two daggers the Infiltrator was no doubt holding. He still couldn't see much in the darkness. He had only a general awareness of movement, and a sense for when and where he would be attacked. That was enough to handle the first few seconds of this fight but it wouldn't keep him alive for much longer than that. He lunged forward with the spear, missing, then jabbed two more times, the second of which was promptly slapped away by the Infiltrator's blade. Aiden expected that, though, and swiped the spear back sideways, forcing the Infiltrator to keep back until Aiden could figure out his plan of attack.

He felt a wickedly sharp, burning pain flare through his leg and he turned to see that the man lying on the floor, the one he'd thought was incapacitated, had jabbed a small knife into his calf. Aiden grunted at the pain, refusing to let them hear him scream, and brought the butt end of the spear down on his head again, this time knocking him out. The second one took advantage of the opening and pounced across the room at Aiden, his daggers flying out in wide arcs. Aiden used the spear like a staff and brought it across his body, trying vainly to defend himself. He was just able to knock away one of the daggers but the other one dug deep into the side of his chest, and this time he cried out with a howl.

Aiden was sure he was going to die. The blade had struck him just under his left arm, aimed for his heart no doubt, and for the briefest of moments he wondered if this was the last thing he would feel in his life. His leg burned, his chest was wracked with pain, and he felt the burning weakness of the poisons the two blades were coated with coursing throughout his body. He expected his strength to fail him at any moment now. His knees would start buckling, and he'd just collapse to the ground and die, lonely and forgotten.

That is until he instinctively twisted away from the pain and the dagger came free with a sharp tug. Aiden had suffered many injuries in his time in battle, and as soon as that dagger came out of his chest, he realized what had happened. Instead of piercing his heart, it had stuck in his rib. By chance or by fate he was still alive, although by the slimmest of margins. The poison might still finish him off but he could still fight, and if he was going to die then he would at least take these assassins to hell with him.

The Infiltrator had hesitated after pulling his dagger free, only for a moment, waiting to see if he'd done enough damage to Aiden to just finish him off. But that hesitation would cost him. Aiden lunged forward now, not with the spear but with his body, using the spear only to keep the daggers at bay. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed the Infiltrator's armor at the shoulder, just managing to get his fingers under the seams around the neck. He dropped his spear and pulled his assailant in close, using his raw strength to spin him around and wrestle him into a bear hug, keeping his arms pinned. The struggle, and Aiden's momentum, knocked them both off balance and they crashed to the ground, the Infiltrator taking the brunt of the fall. Aiden did everything he could to keep the furiously squirming smaller man in his grasp. He grabbed the Infiltrator's right wrist, then pried the dagger in his hand loose and it fell to the wooden floor with a thud. Once he did that, he kept the other arm pinned as best he could and wrapped his free arm around the Infiltrator's neck, fully intending to choke him to death.

The Infiltrator fought for a while, pushing and twisting, trying to break free of Aiden's grasp, but it was of no avail. His last gasp at life was a weak stab at Aiden's leg with his other dagger, which broke the skin but little else. Aiden ignored the pain and squeezed the life out of this man, using all of his anger and pain to fuel him. He didn't let up, not even when his assailant - now his victim - stopped moving. Not until he was sure he was dead. Only when he felt the body go limp in his arms did he finally stop.

Aiden let go and rolled away from the body, his chest heaving from the exertion. The poison was rushing throughout his body now, but he wasn't sure how much of his exhaustion was from that or from the normal rigors of a battle. He laid there for a long moment, catching his breath, trying to ignore the pain from his wounds and he wondered if he could be content with dying now. His attackers were dead - or at least they would be when he could stand and finish off the other one - and he'd been victorious, but he wasn't done with his life yet. He didn't want it all to end with a few bodies rotting away in this shack out in the middle of nowhere. Who would mourn him? Who would even know what he'd done tonight?

The dog started barking again, and he immediately worried that a third Infiltrator was coming. But when he stopped to listen, he realized he was hearing noises from outside the house. Noises that sounded like a battle off in the distance. He stood up slowly, groaning in pain from the blade wounds and fatigue, and he leaned on the wall alongside the door to gather his strength. He quickly inspected his wounds and discovered that he was bleeding pretty badly from his leg, but the chest wound would be okay for a while. He ripped off a piece of his shirt and tied it around the jagged cut in his thigh, hoping it would hold long enough for him to dress it better after the whatever was waiting for him outside the door. When he was satisfied with it, he took a deep breath, opened the door, and looked outside.

The first thing he saw was three men fighting about forty or fifty yards away, straight down the main path to his house. They were illuminated by the moonlight that streaked through the heavy forest canopy along the trail and Aiden could make out what looked to be two Mercenaries, dual-wielders, fairly young, fighting a middle-aged man in dark-colored robes with a staff. A Friar, he realized, and a skilled one at that. Friars were known for their talent at fighting with a stave, and for being powerful healers, and as Aiden watched him duck, dodge and spin away from the attacks by the Mercenaries, he was reminded of a Friar he once knew. A Friar who had watched over him, and helped him learn what it meant to be a soldier of Albion.

The same Friar who was now fighting in front of his house.

Aiden's eyes grew wide as his eyes adjusted to the light and he recognized the face of Riordann before him. Riordann of the Warhounds, one of the few men in that storied unit who'd been a friend to him. And here he was, years later, fighting for his life outside his house in the middle of nowhere. Aiden shook his head without realizing it as the magnitude of what was happening hit him. This was more than chance. And it was far more than just dumb luck. The events of the last day were nothing short of destiny, a long overdue response to every prayer he'd ever made. There was no more doubt now that God was finally, and truly, calling to him, and he wasn't going to miss out on a chance to take back his life.

Aiden ran back inside, moving as quickly as his failing strength would allow him to his chest. He opened it and pulled out his longsword and then dragged his shield out from under the stacked armor that lay on top of it. He hefted the shield on his arm, tightening the straps just enough to feel snug. He held his sword in his hand, feeling comfortable with the weight and balance. He smiled. He'd just survived a brutal assassination attempt, he was wounded in the leg and chest, poisoned, and he was getting weaker by the minute. But he had a friend outside who needed him, a friend who'd come to find him, and he wouldn't fail him now. Aiden loved battle, and after two years away from it, God had felt the need to bring it to him again. He didn't know how this would end, but he was more than happy to prove himself the best way he knew how.

He limped out the front door and down the path in front of his house, banging his sword on his shield as he did. The Mercenaries, who until now had been held at bay by Riordann's staff and healing magic, backed away in surprise. They'd expected to see two Infiltrators walk out of that house, not this stout Armsman who should be dead by now. Aiden glared at them, and he immediately sized them up. They were probably decent enough fighters, but they were still too young. They didn't have enough experience to be fearsome, and now they were confused by Aiden's appearance, and they had no idea how to adjust accordingly. He glanced over at Riordann, who was smiling at him as if nothing untoward was happening.

"Think you could give me a hand here?" Riordann asked.

Aiden nodded and watched as the two Mercenaries started to back away, not sure who they should worry about more. That would no doubt be the last mistake of their lives.

"It would be my pleasure." Aiden replied with a smile. Then he hefted his shield up in front of him, and charged into the fray.

Chapter 8

Aiden pulled his sword free from the belly of his opponent, a foolish young Mercenary who'd attacked his friend in the middle of the night, and he watched with heated satisfaction as the man dropped one of his weapons, a brightly polished hand axe, clutched his wound, and fell to his knees. He'd be dead in moments from that wound, but that wasn't fast enough for Aiden, so he threw his sword down into the near-defenseless Mercenary's shoulder, cracking his collar bone and wrenching a chunk of flesh from it. The man's screams permeated the remote, desolate hills around Aiden's home as he collapsed to the ground, where his screams quickly turned to loud, preening groans.

Aiden was about to finish him off when he heard a loud thud behind him. He turned around to see the other Mercenary crumpling lifelessly to the ground, his head misshapen from a cracked skull. Riordann stood over him, his staff held ready, but slowly coming down to rest now that he'd finished off his own assailant. Aiden looked around, just to make sure no one else was coming for them, and when he was sure they were alone, he thrust his sword through the first Mercenary's throat, silencing him forever. He pulled his sword free and held it tight in his hand, reveling in the frenzy of battle. He was a warrior through and through, born for combat, and now that he was standing over his vanquished foes, he remembered just how much he'd missed it. He grunted at the dead man lying on the ground, a grunt of victory and of satisfaction, and only then did he lower his guard and allow himself a sly grin as he limped over to his old friend.

Before he could say anything, though, Riordann held up his hand and continued scanning the forest. Aiden stopped, squeezing the hilt of his sword anxiously, listening for the sound of any movement nearby. Bastion finally came jogging up the path from the house and when Aiden saw him, he motioned the dog off into the forest. That old hunting dog had just saved his life twice tonight with his ability to sniff out stealthers, and Aiden hoped he'd be able to do it a third time. And sure enough, as soon as the dog started running off into the trees he stopped, sniffed the air, and started barking at something to Aiden's left. He turned, and as soon as he did, he heard the telltale creak of groaning wood, the sound a bow makes when stretched. Aiden immediately brought his shield up as a man appeared from the shadows only an instant before letting fly an arrow. It clipped the upper edge of his shield, right in front of Aiden's heart, and bounced sideways off into the bushes. Before Aiden could even react, a second arrow flew out, only this one came from behind him, flying just over his shoulder, and striking the first bowman directly in the center of his chest.

Aiden ducked to the side and spun around. He expected another attacker but instead he saw Finias standing about a dozen yards behind him, his bow in one hand and a second arrow already in the other. He gave the boy a crooked smile but Finias didn't see it. He was completely focused on the now staggering Scout across the clearing. He coolly nocked that second arrow, pulled back the bowstring, aimed for his target, and fired the arrow into the Scout's chest, sending him flailing backwards into the brush, moments from death.

Aiden let himself breath again, and when he saw Finias glance over at him, he nodded to the boy, glad to see him again despite it all. He turned back to Bastion, who was still nearby, and sent him back off into the trees, to flush out any other nearby stealthers. The dog seemed to understand and he bounded off through the underbrush, sniffing the ground.

"What about the other one?" Riordann asked Finias, breaking the silence. "The Infiltrator?"

"He got away." Finias said darkly. "I lost him."

Riordann nodded glumly and walked over to Aiden, where he began examining his wounds. Aiden immediately turned his head a bit, mostly by instinct, trying to keep his brand out of sight. He wasn't sure if Riordann had already seen it, but if he had he was showing no sign of it now, instead staring inquisitively at Aiden's knife wounds. "It's good to see you again, Aiden." He said, not looking up. "Although I wish it was under better circumstances."

"I should say the same." Aiden said. His battle high was fading now, and the pain and fatigue were coming back quickly. He felt his strength starting to leave his legs, and he decided he needed to sit down before he fell down. So he limped over to a tree stump, with Riordann following, and sat with a painful groan.

"Let me take care of those wounds." Riordann kneeled down next to him. "Which one is the worst?"

Aiden tugged on the bandage around his leg. "This one." He said with a sigh. "I think I'm poisoned, too. There were two Infiltrators in my house. One of them is dead. The other... might be. I don't know."

Riordann turned to Finias. "Can you go in there and check? We might need one alive, so we can question him."

"Hold on." Finias said brusquely. "I'm not doing a bloody thing for either one of you until I'm sure I'm not being lied to."

Riordann looked back at Finias, surprised, as did Aiden.

"You two know each other." Finias looked accusingly at Riordann. "You didn't think to mention that sometime in the last few hours?"

Riordann turned back to Aiden's wounds and started slowly pulling away the bandage, as if nothing untoward had just happened. "I should have, I suppose." He began, "But I didn't feel safe, then. I have a hard time telling anyone anything right now. I think I made that clear."

Finias just stood there, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't know what to believe about you anymore. You were right about the Infiltrators, but you lied about knowing Aiden. You've been acting crazy and paranoid all night but now... now you're about as calm as a corpse." Finias slung his bow back over his shoulder. "What are you? A liar, a mad man, or someone who's just done a really good job at making me look like a fool?"

"I'm a man in trouble, Finias. Just like the two of you. Great trouble. And I assure you that I'm no less scared for my life now than I was ten minutes ago, or two hours ago. These men," he motioned to the bodies around them, "will not be the last ones we have to defend ourselves against."

"What's going on?" Aiden finally asked. He could sense the tension between these two, and finding them out here tonight had been more than just chance. Something greater was at work here.

"The King wants us dead. Haven't you heard?" Finias remarked, snidely.

Riordann looked down at the ground and sighed for a long moment. Finally, he looked up at Aiden, and he saw the brand on his face, but Aiden couldn't tell by his blank expression what he thought of it. For the first time in a while, though, he was truly ashamed of himself, because this was the first time in the two years since his effective banishment that he'd come face to face a former comrade in arms, a man he respected, with the mark of a coward plain on his cheek. He wanted to look away, but he knew that would only make it worse. So he forced himself be strong and to look his friend in the eyes.

"Finias," Riordann began, "would you please check Aiden's house and see if anyone is left alive. We need to learn what we can from these men while there's time. After that, I will tell you everything. I promise you that."

Finias stood his ground for a moment, no doubt bristling at being told what to do, but he relented and walked away. "There's rope on the side of the house there." Aiden said, calling after him, but Finias kept walking and gave no sign that he'd heard him.

Riordann pulled the bandage free from Aiden's leg and examined the wound. "You were stabbed in the chest, too?" He asked, looking up at the wound under Aiden's arm. Aiden nodded, and Riordann began rubbing his hands together. He began chanting something under his breath, then he gave a quick wave of his hand and Aiden saw a flash of light appear in the Friar's palm. Riordann quickly put his hand over Aiden's leg wound, where the light at first spread out over his leg and then quickly retreated back into the wound. Aiden gritted his teeth as he felt the telltale sting of a Friar's healing magic coursing through his leg, repairing the torn flesh through a magic they called Rejuvenation. He knew nothing about how it worked, only that it did, and he was grateful for it tonight. But as wonderful as healing magic could be, it did strange things to a person's body while repairing it, uncomfortable things that some people just never could get used to. But it would keep him alive to fight another day, and that's what Aiden focused on while gritting his teeth.

The effects were apparent in seconds, and Aiden felt his ripped leg muscles pulling, rolling and stretching as they worked to find each other once again. Riordann let his magic do it's work and he moved up to the chest wound, and Aiden steeled himself for the next round of healing. The whole thing was familiar to him, and he remembered the last time Riordann had kept him alive like this. It was around four years ago, while defending Caer Boldiam from an invasion by Midgardian forces. Aiden had taken an arrow to his shoulder, and Riordann had found found him in the chaos of that battle, pulled the arrow out and healed the wound. It had been only a few months after Aiden left the Warhounds, finding it impossible to get along with their commander, Lord Andreas of Devrin. He didn't feel bad about that, since few people were able to suffer that arrogant bastard, but he did miss many of his other comrades in that unit, Riordann included. In fact, his time in the Warhounds had been both incredibly frustrating and completely exhilarating. There were few other groups of soldiers serving the realm of Albion who'd achieved the same level of success as the Warhounds, and the day Aiden had been invited to join them was one of the proudest of his life. He spent only a year with them, and Andreas had pounced on his every little mistake, but he'd learned and experienced more in that year than all the other years of his life combined.

"This one will take care of the poison." Riordann said calmly. "Just close your eyes and relax."

Aiden did as he was told, although it was hard for him to ignore the quesy sensation he always felt from healing magic. His eyes were closed, but he could tell when Riordann cast his next spell, because he felt a wave of cold flow through his body, making him feel numb for an instant as the magic cleansed his blood of the poison coursing through it. It was over as soon as it began, though, and as his body began to warm back up, he immediately felt better, and stronger. The magic had worked, and once his leg and chest muscles finished their incessant tugging and stretching, he would be ready to fight again in minutes.

He heard the door shut behind him, and he glanced back to see Finias walking up the path toward them.

"They're both dead." He said.

"Are you sure about that?" Aiden asked. He'd killed one of the Infiltrators, but the other he'd just knocked in the head a couple times.

"I think the one you left alive poisoned himself. He had a vial in his hand."

"Why in God's name would he poison himself?" Aiden wondered aloud, but he realized the answer as soon as he said it.

"To stay quiet." Finias said, confirming it.

"Or," Riordann began, "because he feared the results of his failure."

"So now what?" Aiden asked.

"Now, you tell us everything." Finias said to Riordann. "Everything." He repeated for emphasis.

Riordann nodded, then slowly started pacing around in the small clearing. "I'll start at the beginning, then."

Finias leaned against a nearby birch tree, staring intently at Riordann.

"About three months ago, we were part of a patrol group scouting Agramon. We'd heard that Hibs were out in force there, no doubt preparing for an attack. We found them, but we were forced to fall back, and we got cut off before escaping the island so we had to take refuge down in the Labyrinth. But some of the Hibs followed us down."

Aiden knew of the Labyrinth but he'd never been inside. The Albion, Midgard and Hibernian frontiers all met each other at the island of Agramon, a desolate no-man's land where people only ventured out in force. The Labyrinth was a massive maze of tunnels underneath the frontiers that no one knew about until an earthquake a few years back opened up several entrances to it on Agramon. It had been a revelatory event, not only because of the discovery of these tunnels, but also because it had revealed the existence of the different clans of Minotaurs who still lived down there, and set off a frenzy of alliance-making between the three realms and some of the warring Minotaur clans. To this day, that process was still happening, with no end in sight.

"We went deep into the Labyrinth as those Hibernians chased us, avoiding them, as well as the Minotaur clansmen down there who hated us. Finally, we ran into a dead end, and had no choice but to turn around and fight. And so we did. And against numbers greater than our own, we held our ground. Until..." He paused, then cleared his throat. "You see, the Labyrinth is unstable. There are constant tremors down there, and our fighting set one off. A bad one. Parts of the walls started collapsing around us. And just as things started to turn bad for us, Tholstan," Riordann glanced over at Aiden as he said the name, and Aiden nodded back, remembering his fellow Armsman fondly "found a crack in the wall that was large enough for us to escape through. So we retreated through the crack, and found ourselves in a tunnel that sloped dangerously down into the depths of the world. Under normal circumstances we'd have thought twice about going down there, but we didn't have a choice this time. Another tremor came, threatening to crash the entire tunnel down around us, so we went down, for a long time we went down, and when we finally came to the end we found ourselves in a place so deep below the earth that even those in the Labyrinth don't know about it."

Riordann paused for a long moment, looking down at the ground absently. The silence began to stretch out, and Aiden noticed that Riordann's hand was shaking slightly.

"And?" Finias asked, breaking the silence.

"We were in a large tunnel, with rough-cut walls that looked... old. You see, the Labyrinth itself is really just an underground city. The walls are carved, and there are decorations, tiled runes, pictures, statues. The tunnels are crafted like they were meant for the taurs to live within them. But this place wasn't like that. It didn't feel like part of the Labyrinth at all. This place was primal, and dark, like it was connected to the bowels of the world. The air itself was... heavy with some terrible magic. It felt like we were walking amongst the souls of the dead down there."

Riordann's hand made a flittering gesture while he talked, which caught Aiden off-guard. He'd never seen the old Friar like this. It was as if he were reliving the moment in his mind as he spoke, and it felt unnatural to see him not in control. Riordann had always been unflappable. No matter how desperate the battle or the stakes, Riordann was the one to keep everyone else calm. Now, Aiden was watching a man he'd known as the rock of the warhounds seemingly lose his cool, and perhaps his mind. It was unsettling to say the least.

"There were some rooms along the side of the tunnel," he continued, glancing over at Finias for a moment, "and that's where we found the treasure. There were small mounds of gold and jewels packed into the corners of the rooms, swept over there like trash. There were also dead bodies in there, most had been there for years, but there were some who couldn't have been dead more than a few months. We found rotted food, cases of ale and wine, little charms and mementos, like something you would carry around to remember your family or someone you loved."

"I remember examing one of the bodies, though, trying to figure out how long it had been down there, when we were attacked. There were only a few torches lit down there, so it was dark and confusing, but the first thing I saw down there was a Firbolg. I naturally thought those same Hibs had caught up to us. But then I saw a Troll next to him. Everyone started yelling that Mids were here now, too, and we were fighting another group as well, but I realized that they weren't fighting each other. They were fighting together, against us. That, in itself, was strange, but then I saw Britons, Avalonians and Half-Ogres amongst those ranks. And when I saw that, when I saw our own countrymen fighting with them..." he shook his head and gave a short laugh.

"We managed to move the fight back out into the main tunnel, thinking that our only option was to escape back the way we came, but when we got out into the open, we saw three Minotaurs in the back lines. They weren't fighters, though. They were casters, wearing dark red robes, and they were staying back, chanting in some old tongue I've never heard before. I thought they might be working on some kind of focus spell, like the kind a Cabalist would use, but I couldn't see yet what effect it was having."

"And then suddenly one of them let out a roar, and these people, these fourth realmers as I call them, they backed away. We thought that was our opening, our chance to escape, so we started falling back." He paused again for a moment, remembering. "Some of us started falling back."

"I remember looking behind us as we ran, and I saw two of our own, Leesin and Henry, just standing there, like they'd forgotten where they were. I stopped to go back, to get them, and that's when I saw that those Minotaurs were chanting again, and staring right at those two. And I knew - at that moment I knew they were doing something to them. I just didn't know what it was yet."

"And then it started happening to the others. One by one I saw men I'd fought alongside for years just drop to their knees. Or stare at nothing. It was like their souls had been pierced by this magic, and it was..." He trailed off again, and Aiden thought he almost saw a smile coming to the old Friar's face before he blinked and started talking again. "I grabbed one of them, a man named Hylin, and he just looked at me like he'd never seen me before. I thought he'd been dazed somehow, that maybe the magic was disorienting them, so I grabbed his arm and tried to drag him back with us, but he pulled away from me. And then he turned his sword on me. Whatever magic these minotaurs were using, they'd turned our own people on us in moments, making them think we were the enemy."

"I don't remember much detail after that. I was hit by something, and everything went black. I only remember waking up back in that passageway, the long sloping one, with Andreas and Tholstan dragging me along behind them. We'd escaped in the confusion somehow, just the three of us. No one

else made it out. We spent a day trying to navigate those tunnels and escape the Labyrinth without being seen. And then it took another day after that to get back to Camelot, where we reported what we found to the King's Chamberlain, and some of his councilors. We spent hours with them, describing everything we saw down there in as much detail as we could remember. And later that night, we were sent to an Inn in town." He glanced over at Finias. "And that's where the Infiltrators captured me, and I spent the next three months in a dungeon under the city."

"You were imprisoned?" Aiden asked. "What for?"

Riordann frowned. "The King and his men want to keep this a secret, so they can take advantage of it before everyone else finds out about it. And in the meantime, people will be hurt, killed, or captured by these things. All because of greed. Someone is down there, and they are dabbling in very

dark magic, and creating an army to protect them. The King either knows about this, and he's letting people die because of his greed, or he doesn't know and it's his ignorance letting this happen. You two found that Thane outside Humberton. That means these fourth realmers are starting to spread out into the world. I don't know why, but we need to find out, and we need to stop it, because there's no one else in this realm that we can depend on anymore."

Aiden's next question would have been to ask what they needed to do now, but he suspected he already knew Riordann's plan. "You want to go back to the Labyrinth?"

"I have to, Aiden. I need to find out what happened to my friends down there. Our friends. I need to save them."

"But what about Tholstan? And Andreas? They could still be down in that dungeon."

Riordann let out a long, heavy sigh. "They weren't in that dungeon. I don't know where they are, but I suspect that Andreas isn't spending his time in shackles right now."

"What do you mean?"

"The King's men need someone to show them how to get back to where we were. Andreas is a shrewd man, Aiden. If he sensed that things were about to go bad, he'd the first to ensure his survival."

Aiden couldn't believe it. He knew Andreas was a bastard, and a glory hound, but even he had some sense of honor, especially to his men. The warhounds were successful because Andreas had been smart in his recruiting, and even if his personality was ice cold, he was loyal to those he trusted, like Riordann, who'd been with the Warhounds since the beginning. Aiden may have hated the man, but he could at least admit to himself that there was no way Andreas would betray Riordann. At least not

willingly.

"Then we better get moving." Finias said, and both men turned to look at him, suprised. Aiden especially, who didn't expect the boy to be so easily talked into something as dangerous as Riordann was suggesting. But Finias just shrugged back at them. "We either go out there and take our chances,

or we stay here and hide for the rest of our lives." Finias looked at Aiden. "I know some of us are good at that. But I'm not. I want to fight."

"You think I don't?" Aiden replied, harshly.

"I know this is sudden, but I came to you, Aiden, because I knew you would always do what's right." Riordann said. "I don't know what's happened to you lately, and I'm sorry I wasn't around to- to help, but I do know you would never do anything to hurt or abandon your friends."

Aiden looked down at the ground, shook his head and just laughed.

"After everything that's happened tonight, you think I'm just going to sit around here and wait for more of them to show up?" He nodded toward one of the Mercenaries lying lifeless on the ground nearby. "No. Something more important than we realize is happening here. God brought us together, my friend, and He did it for a reason. And I, for one, can't wait to see what happens next."

Chapter 9

I could fix that for you."

Those were the words that Riordann spoke to him yesterday. The words that still haunted him today.

Aiden stood ill at east just outside Snowdonia Fortress, one of the two great keeps in the northern reaches of the Albion countryside. Snowdonia and Castle Sauvage, far to the east, were the only defenses not natural that stood between the people of Albion and the savage and lawless frontier, where the armies of the three realms fought their vicious battles. These two border keeps were staging areas for Albion's armies, where those who fought for the realm - Armsmen, Paladins, Wizards, Clerics, Friars, Theurgists and more - made their last preparations before heading off to battle against the armies of Midgard and Hibernia. They were also the last defense against those marauding armies, for if their enemies breached one of the border keeps, they could roam deep into the lands of Albion, ravaging its people with almost no one to stand before them.

He was at the edge of the large market area just south of the main gates, on the Albion side of the walls, waiting nervously before his first foray into the frontier in years. He was leaning on a wooden support pole holding up one corner of a wide woolen canopy hanging off the side of a large pavilion, trying not to be noticed, which was easy enough in this crowd. The market was made up of merchants and vendors from all over the land, looking to sell their wares to the hundreds, sometimes thousands, of soldiers that passed through the fortress every day. All about the sloping, grassy field were large multi-colored cloth tarps and tents stretched out on poles, with dozens upon dozens of men, women and children hawking food, clothing, specialized weapons and arrows, mementos, armor-adornments, charms, and whatever else they thought they could trade or sell. The whole market area stood in the shadow of the great fortress walls, easily as tall as ten men, thicker than four or five standing abreast, and made from a magically endowed dark-gray granite that some claimed was harder than arcanium, the metal used in the most expensive weapons and armor in the world.

Aiden rubbed his eyes, trying to look casual even though he felt anything but relaxed. He'd spent a day and a half traveling north from his home in the Black Mountains to Snowdonia, and the excitement he'd endured in the last two days was taking it's toll. He was tired, nervous and irritable after waiting around nearly half an hour for Riordann to purchase some supplies for their trip. About a dozen large wool and cloth blankets were hanging from a rope tied across one side of the pavilion, and Aiden had positioned himself so that they blocked him from the view of most of the market area while he waited. He was wearing his familiar red robe, the hood up over his head, and hanging just enough to cover part of his brand for anyone who happened by. He was wearing his old armor, as battered as it was, and it felt comfortable and familiar on his large frame. His shield was strapped to his back, his sheathed sword was hanging from his belt and he'd even brought the goblin spear along with him, thinking it was good luck given how often he'd had to use it lately. Bastion sat quietly at his feet, watching the crowd lazily and every so often gnawing the fleas on his haunches. Finias had been waiting with him but he'd grown tired of standing around and wandered off some time ago, leaving Aiden alone with his thoughts.

"I can fix that for you." Riordann had told him that while walking north along the road yesterday through the Black Mountains. He was referring to Aiden's scar, which he hadn't mentioned up to that point.

The statement caught him off guard, and Aiden wasn't sure how to answer. Any healer could use healing magic to remove a scar - up to a point - and Aiden knew this. But he also knew that anyone who tried such a thing would end up banished themselves. He could have gone to a healer out amongst the homesteaders, or some of the more unsavory types that were part of the Camelot underground. They would have done it for a price. But they were unreliable, Aiden didn't have the money anyway, and going to someone like that, even in secret, would have completely shattered Aiden's already fragile sense of honor and respect.

"No." He'd told him. "It's nothing."

"Trying to be noble?"

"No. I just - I just don't want the trouble."

"It would take me all of five minutes, Aiden."

"You'd ruin your reputation." Aiden replied hastily.

"My reputation?" Riordann nearly laughed. "I just escaped from a dungeon. I'm being hunted by assassins. Somehow, I think fixing your brand would go unnoticed amongst all the rest of my problems."

Aiden desperately wanted to take Riordann up on his offer. He was ready to drop his pack, his weapons and shield, and just sit on the ground like an anxious little kid while the Friar used his talents to make his humiliation go away once and for all. But he knew better. Removing the scar wouldn't remove the last two years of his life. He wanted things set right, and this just didn't feel like the way to do that.

"Maybe later." Aiden said, though he didn't really mean it. "When this is over... maybe then."

Riordann nodded. "Agreed."

He'd agonized over that decision ever since, and there were several times throughout the day he'd almost pulled Riordann aside to do it. Just to get it over with so he didn't have to keep thinking about it. But something held him back. At first he thought it might be self-respect, but he didn't entirely believe that. It felt more complicated than that. Maybe he was afraid of what would happen next, how he would face the people he once knew, and that seemed even more daunting than this journey to the Labyrinth. Ultimately, though, the reason he'd settled on yesterday, and still felt sure about today, was that he hadn't earned it. He didn't want to get rid of the brand just so he could run away and start over in some new land across the sea. No, he wanted to go back to his old life. He wanted to be a soldier. He wanted to fight for his realm, and he couldn't do that unless he earned the right to have that brand removed. Hopefully, this little journey was the beginning of just that.

Since arriving here at Snowdonia, though, he'd done his best to keep his mind off his own troubles. The frontier was a terribly harsh place, where distraction or introspection would get you killed. So set about occupying his mind by remembering all of the little things he didn't realize he'd forgotten about since his last time here. Sights and sounds he'd taken for granted before, but now he drank them in like a parched man who's stumbled upon a stream. The sound of heavy footsteps and metal clanging as armored soldiers marched about in the regal red and blue livery of Albion. The screeching of sword and axe blades being sharpened on a pedal-spun grindstone. The smell of new leather and the oils that tanners used to soften it. In the past all of this had just been in the background for him, but not today. Today he wanted to experience it all. He was happy to be here, and anxious to be heading out into the frontier, where he'd always felt like he made a difference. He wanted to remember as much of this as he could, and enjoy it in case he had it all taken from him again. Most of all, though, he was desperate to get back to one of the few places he truly felt comfortable, and away from the worries that had plagued him up until now.

"I know you normally wouldn't do it, but we're ready."

Aiden heard a woman's voice nearby and he turned to see who was talking. He found her only a few yards away, a short, thin little waif, barely out of her mid-teens, with long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail by several golden clasps. Her face was round, and her eyes were deep set and blue. She was pretty, and she carried herself like a woman much older than she appeared. She wore the dark blue robes of a Theurgist, the Albion wizards who specialized in mastery of the elements, but Aiden suspected that she'd stolen that robe from her mother, because she was far too young for anyone to believe that she'd mastered any of the magical arts. She was walking in lockstep with an Albion Sergeant, slightly older than Aiden, fully armored in worn and dented plate mail, and with a look on his face that suggested he'd already had enough of this girl. Following both of them was a young man, roughly the same age as her, wearing various pieces of Paladin plate armor that looked fancy enough, but had never seen a single day of battle. The polish was too perfect.

The sergeant just shook his head and waved her off gruffly. "Not today, girl. You'll have to find someone else."

"But we're ready!" She exclaimed, sounding a little too much like a child. She must have realized that because she quickly regained her composure. "I promise you we are."

The sergeant stopped and turned to her, towering over her small frame. "I already have a bunch of kids to take care of out in the frontier. I don't need two more. 'Specially not ones who look like they should be playing dolls." He punched the boy right in the center of his plate hauberk, not too hard, but it sent the would-be Paladin stumbling back a step with a look of surprise on his face. The sergeant just shook his head again and walked off, while the girl looked at her companion with embarrassment clear on her face.

Aiden turned away to hide his smile. That conversation had been a familiar one for him. Children pretending to be soldiers, coming to Snowdonia and Sauvage intent on proving themselves in the realm wars without having any idea of the horrors that waited beyond those walls. It was all glory and adventure to them, but to the hardened veterans, it was something else entirely. If they were smart, those two would grow tired of their begging and go home, where it was safe, before someone made the mistake of taking them out to their deaths.

Riordann arrived several minutes later, to Aiden's relief, and they looked through the provisions he'd purchased. He somehow managed to wrangle together a small pouch of silver during his time in Camelot, and he'd just spent all of it on a little bit of dried food, water skins and blankets. It was a meager collection of supplies, but it would be enough to get by for a few days. Hopefully, they would be able to scavenge more from any fallen foes, which was how many good soldiers made a comfortable living.

"Our best chance of survival is to find a fight." Riordann chuckled. "I always loved that irony."

"We'll be fine." Aiden assured him. "All we need to do is stay behind the mile gates and get to the docks without being too obvious. Once we're on the ferry, we'll be safe most of the way."

"That we will."

"I know I haven't been out there lately, but I'm guessing things have changed that much in the last two years." Aiden said.

Riordann shook his head. "No. Nothing's changed. That's the unfortunate part. Getting to Agramon will be tough for us."

"Agramon will be dangerous." Aiden agreed. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Finias finally approach. He was glad to see the young Scout back so that they could finally get moving, but his relief was quickly tempered by the fact that the young man and woman he'd seen earlier were now following him.

"What are they doing here?" He asked carefully, suddenly fearing the worst.

"They're coming with us." Finias said.

"No, they're not."

Finias was taken aback. "Yeah, they are. I invited them."

"You invited them?" Aiden didn't want to make a scene, but he could feel his temper rising. "To what? To join us on a death march into the Labyrinth? They're children!"

Finias smiled back at him, bemused. "How old do you think I am?" He asked, and Aiden quickly realized his mistake. Finias was barely older than they were, he just carried himself in a way that made him seem more aware of the world. He seemed more adult than his age should allow, and Aiden had completely forgotten about that. "Besides, they want to help. They know the risks, so why not bring them? Five is still better than three, right?"

Aiden clenched his fist and grunted. He didn't feel like arguing about it anyway. "Fine. Bring them. But their lives are in your hands." He turned to the other two, who seemed reluctant to say or do anything that would upset anyone more than they already were. "And you two. What are your names?"

"I'm Katarina." The girl said. "Kat." She added.

"Malcolm." The boy said quietly. "Her brother."

"Kat and Malcolm." Aiden said, nodding. "I don't know what Finias told you, but this is no game. Once we're on the other side of those walls," he pointed, "you two will say nothing, and do nothing, unless I or Riordann tell you. We're not getting killed because you two don't know what to do out there."

Their faces blanched but Aiden didn't care. Better to be harsh with them now and make sure they knew what they were getting into, than to regret doing it after they died from making a stupid mistake. He also hoped he could scare them into backing out, but Malcolm only nodded, and Kat quickly followed suit.

Aiden just shook his head at Finias and then walked off, followed by Riordann, who gave them all a cautious smile. Finias scowled. "I'm not the one bringing a dog into the frontier."

Aiden ignored the comment and continued on toward the south gates, which were open. He motioned Riordann forward, wanting him to lead them through the fortress so fewer eyes would be on him and the brand he was trying to cover up. And even though the Friar seemed reluctant, he stepped up ahead of the group as they crossed through the gates and into the main courtyard. This part of the fortress was just an open space between the north wall, which was the first line of defense, and the south wall, which was the second line. Catwalks circled the interior of the walls, allowing defenders to see over the top, and two giant wooden staircases stood at the east and west edges, where the walls were built right into the surrounding rock. There was minimal activity today, with some men congregated near the weapon storehouses in the corner, and a small group of robed casters, men and women, chatting near a tailor who was repairing the tears in someone's robe. What Aiden was looking for, though, was about twenty paces to his left as he entered the courtyard - a giant rune-inscribed stone, with two small pillars standing on either side. The Binding Stone.

Aiden tapped Riordann's shoulder to get his attention, and then motioned to his left. Riordann nodded and let Aiden lead everyone to the corner of the courtyard to stand in front of the stone, which stood as tall as he did, and was almost as wide at its base. The circular rune carved into it's front glowed with a faint bluish hue, and two Clerics of the Church of Albion stood nearby, watching Aiden and his companions as they approached. Aiden went to the stone first, keeping his head down in only partially feigned reverence, and he placed his hand on the stone. When he did, one of the Clerics - an older man with a long grey beard and a disinterested expression on his face - stepped forward to place his hand on Aiden's. The Cleric chanted something under his breath and the blue glow grew bright for a moment, then faded.

"For the glory of Albion, my son. Praise be to God." The Cleric said in a monotone voice as he pulled his hand away.

"Praise be to God." Aiden repeated, and stepped away as Riordann came forward to repeat the process.

The Binding Stone was a powerful magical item used to temporarily capture part of a person's soul. The frontier was a dangerous place, and dozens of men and women died out there every day. But by releasing a soul fragment to the Stone before heading out into the frontier, you were giving yourself a chance for the Clerics of the Church to restore you to life, provided your body was brought back to the stone within a reasonable time - usually within a day - and that it wasn't damaged beyond the care of healing magic. An unspoken agreement existed between the three realms that once someone was dead, their bodies were left untouched so that their realm mates could have every opportunity to revive them. No one wanted to be the first realm to advocate wholesale mutilation, and thus have the same be done to them. But of course, there were always certain factions who took pleasure in destroying their opponents remains, even though realm leaders would publicly claim they were outcasts from normal military functions.

But there was a catch to the Binding Stone. The process of releasing and regaining a portion of your soul - dying and being brought back to life - was incredibly taxing, and most people could only handle a 'Revival' two or three times before they started losing their memories, having seizures, or going completely insane. Because of this, most people were forcibly retired from any kind of active combat after their third Revival, although there were always a few who managed to sneak through until they reached five or six. Aiden himself had only been Revived once, after dying during a failed attack on Midgard. It was a terribly traumatic experience. But he'd known a number of soldiers who had been Revived four or five times during their time in the frontiers, and none of them was the same person they'd been when he first met them.

Once the other four touched the Stone - Finias was noticeably hesitant to do so for some reason, though Aiden didn't ask why - he let Riordann lead them across the courtyard toward the outer gates. He tried to push down the excitement as they approached the giant iron portcullis that stood between them and the entrance to the frontier, where all his best years had been. Memories flashed before him of walking through that gateway into a land where only your weapon, your shield, and your wits kept you alive. He'd been part of countless battles out there, defending keeps and outposts, destroying towers, roaming the countryside with his comrades, claiming narrow victories and suffering crushing defeats. Even though some days had been better than others, in the grand scheme of things every moment out there had been worth it because Aiden knew he had been lucky. Not everyone was able to find their true calling in life, and he'd found it - and lived it - for a decade. Now he was only moments away from going back, and he wanted to relish every moment before it was taken from him again.

Riordann nodded to the guards manning the gate, and one of them signaled to two more men who were in charge of operating the winch that raised and lowered the portcullis. They begin turning the winch and the portcullis slowly creaked upward, as did Aiden's excitement. When they had enough room to walk under the metal grate, they didn't wait any longer and just walked on through and then down the short stone hallway that led through the open outer gate. Once they passed through the opening and out onto the small sloping hill that led down and away from the massive walls, Aiden moved up next to Riordann, putting his hand on the old Friar's arm to let him know that they needed to stop. Riordann obliged, watching Aiden as the Armsman stood and stared at the vast rolling hills and valleys of Snowdonia before him. For a moment, a brief moment, Aiden forgot everything that was troubling him. He didn't see the several dozen Albion soldiers patrolling the grounds around him, or the powerful Wizards, Sorcerers and archers manning the walls above him. All he saw was his home.

And that's when he knew for sure that he'd made the right decision. He needed to lose his coward's brand with a clear conscience, and he'd never been more sure that this journey, this fateful trip to the Labyrinth, or wherever it was he would end up, was a test to earn back his honor and reputation. Riordann meant well with his offer, but it was a temptation, an easy way out for Aiden, and that's not what God had intended for him. God had greater plans for him, and right at this moment Aiden had never felt more sure about his future, and everything that would come with it. He would pass his test, he would reclaim his honor, and he would once again lead the armies of Albion to victory, as he was born to do. And it all began out here.

"Well," he said, proudly surveying the frontier before him, "I hope you're all ready. Because everything you know is about to change."

Chapter 10

Finias crouched over the Infiltrator lying on the floor of Aiden's shack, holding his hand over the man's mouth to see if he was breathing. He was pretty sure this one was dead, but he'd learned from an early age to be thorough when dealing with assassins, because they made their living by convincing people to lower their guard. He was frustrated and angry about everything that had happened tonight - killing the Thane, losing his reward, dealing with Riordann's fickle emotions - but he couldn't let that distract him right now. So he kept his emotions pushed down while going through all the tests he'd been taught to do - feeling for a heartbeat, even a slow one, checking for breathing, even jabbing a knife point into the palm of the hand. This guy had passed all of those tests, which meant he was either really dead, or really good at playing dead.

He moved to the other body lying motionless on the floor, and reached out to check his breathing as well. As soon as his hand touched the man's nose, though, the Infiltrator jerked away, and immediately reached for something on his belt. Finias instantly grabbed the man's wrist with his right hand, snatched a dagger from his belt with his left, and held it to his throat.

"Don't move." He whispered. The man was still, but that meant nothing. Finias knew he was only biding his time until he could strike, like any good assassin. He glanced over at the Infiltrator's left hand, expecting to see the dim outline of a dagger, but instead, a sliver of moonlight shone through the cracks of the roof and illuminated a small glass vial. Poison, Finias thought. He'd been reaching for a way to end his own life, so he couldn't be questioned. Because he'd failed.

At first Finias was tempted to let the man take his poison and die. It would be one less Infiltrator to worry about. But then he realized that this was his chance to take back control, and to finally find out something that the others didn't know.

"You want to die, huh?" He whispered. "Fine. I'm going make a deal with you. I'll ask you one question, and if you answer it for me, I'll let you take your poison and die honorably." Finias felt the man's muscles tighten in his grip, no doubt expecting some kind of trick. "Or, we can fight. And if we fight, I'll break that vial and then I'll gut you with this knife. My friends outside will hear the noise, come in here, and tie you up. You'll be tortured for a while until we get our information. Either way, I get what I want. The only question is, do you get what you want?"

Neither of them moved for a long moment. Finias thought the Infiltrator might be mulling the offer over in his mind, deciding if it was better to fight and die, or to take his own life. So he decided to put his offer in perspective.

"Remember, if you're found with that poison on your lips, your bosses will know you died without revealing anything. If you die with rope burns on your wrist, they'll have to assume otherwise."

Another long moment passed, and Finias was about to give up when the Infiltrator's body finally relaxed, and he nodded his consent.

"Smart man." He said, not relaxing his own grip - he was still dealing with an assassin after all. "Now who sent you? And I want names."

"I don't know who sent us," he replied in a hoarse voice, "only who hired us."

"Who, then?"

"Caelis."

"Caelis?" Finias repeated, making sure he'd heard right. "'Cutter' Caelis? He hired you?" Finias could feel his chest tightening uncomfortably. Caelis was one of Albion's most feared assassins, both for his prowess, and for the fact that his sanity was questionable. His nickname was pretty self-explanatory, and it had inspired an untold number of partially true stories about what he did to his victims. Finias had met the man once as a child and even then he'd known immediately just how dangerous he was. But even with his savage reputation, it wasn't Caelis he feared. "Does that mean... do you know who I am?" He asked breathlessly, finally realizing the magnitude of what he was involved in.

The Infiltrator just smiled back at him. "That's more than one question, Finias."

Finias let his arm hang over the front side of the ferry's hull, feeling the water spray up as the small waves crested into the bow. His mind was full of troubling thoughts, so much so that he'd barely slept the last two nights, but being out here on the river seemed to calm him. He couldn't explain why, but he loved the water, especially the open sea. He'd spent very little time near it growing up, but he felt like it called to him whenever he was around it, like he was part of a larger world that he could get lost in. When he first left home, he thought about getting a job on a trade ship and sailing across the sea, somewhere away from the three realms and their wars. He could leave everything behind if he had ever had the guts to do so, and escape to start his life over. He'd never done it, though. At first he figured he was just too scared, but that was only part of the reason. As much as he hated admitting it, Albion was his home, and he bristled at the notion of leaving before he'd proven his worth to everyone who doubted him. Of course, the last two days had left him wishing he'd left when he had the chance.

After leaving the border keep, they'd traveled northwest to the Lower Prolix River and to the docks west of Caer Hurbury, where they were able to secure a ferry to the north. They traveled most of the way to Hurbury behind the milegate, the giant wall that spanned the entire region of Snowdonia, protecting the southern half of the region from the rest of the frontier. That had kept them safe from small roving bands of Midgardians and Hibernians who may have penetrated deep into the south. More importantly, though, the mile gates protected Abion's great Relics, which were housed in the southernmost parts of the frontier. The Relics were powerful magical artifacts, passed down from their ancestors, and whose origins were lost to time. The scholars said that the Relics were what gave the soldiers of Albion their strength and the casters their will, but who really knew if that was true. The scholars also said that the Relics had to be kept in the frontier, and Finias had always wondered why they'd be kept where they could be lost to enemy armies – which had happened – but people smarter than him had said it must be done. Finias didn't know why exactly, but he didn't care, either. He left the defense of Relics to people like Riordann and Aiden, people who were more invested those sorts of endeavors.

The ferry was slowly drifting north down the river from the Hurbury docks to Caer Benowyc with Finias and four other passengers. Aiden and Riordann were with him, along with their two new companions, Katarina the Thuergist and Malcolm the Paladin. Bastion was sitting on the floorboards at Aiden's feet, his tongue hanging lazily out of his mouth. Once at Beno they would disembark and make their way over land to the bridge that would take them to Agramon, and the entrance to the Labyrinth. They'd passed Caer Boldiam some time ago, which marked the halfway point of their journey, and Riordann had announced that they would be reaching Benowyc within the hour. While passing Boldiam, the ferryman had steered them close to the docks situated there so he could ask the dockmaster if the waters downriver were safe. As the ferry drifted by, they'd shouted their news back and forth to each other and everyone on the ferry learned that Midgard forces were attacking Renaris, and most of the frontier defenses were headed there. As far as the dockmaster knew, Benowyc was quiet, which left them all somewhat at ease, although Aiden was quick to remind them that Benowyc rarely stayed quiet.

Finias had spent the last hour trying to occupy himself by watching the shore and surveying in his mind all the spots with good cover for a Scout. They were currently passing by a long stretch of cedar trees on the east shoreline, and he wondered how many other archers had hidden there to take shots at ferries as they moved back and forth along the river. He swore he'd heard someone loose an arrow shortly after they left the docks at Hurbury, but he never saw the arrow or heard it land. The short wooden barricades on each side of the ferry would block a direct shot, and he doubted there were many archers out here with the skill to drop an arrow on them from above, but he'd still spent much of the trip watching for good hiding spots. Partly for his own edification, and partly because he was worried about who might be following them.

Caelis and his small army of hired goons would be a problem for them. Caelis was vicious, cruel and unpredictable, which is why he'd been so effective for so long, and Finias could only imagine that he'd hire assassins in his own image. But he wasn't clever. He was impetuous and rash, which made him hard to deal with, and an ineffective leader. Caelis was a soldier, and even though most of the commanders in Albion found him impossible to control, there was one man Cutter Caelis would listen to, one man he respected enough to follow. Varusinian Vardakin. Varus the Dragon. One of the most feared and reviled Infiltrators in the history of Albion... and Finias' own father.

Varus was a cunning and vile man, who liked to study his opponents. He enjoyed finding their weak spots, so he could strike fast and hard, giving them no chance to defend themselves. And unfortunately for his targets, those weaknesses could be found in more than just armor. More than likely it would include friends or family, emotional weaknesses, as he called it. Varus was not above destroying everything his victims held dear. In fact, Finias was sure he delighted in it. Varus was also a terrible father, driving his three sons to follow in his path, whether they wanted to or not. He would berate them, belittle them, turn them against each other, all in an attempt to hone their instincts and skills. One of Finias' brothers had already died trying to appease their madman of a father, and Finias wasn't about to be the second. So he left, and he hoped to never have to see that man again. But that all changed two nights ago. Caelis may have hired these men, he may have handed them the money, but Finias was positive that the Caelis was working under a plan, a plan that came from Varus.

"They're under a spell?" Kat asked, shaking Finias out of his thoughts. She was responding to Riordann's long monologue explaining why they were going to the Labyrinth, but it wasn't just her question that got his attention. He was attracted to her voice, which had a sing-songy quality to it that she kept trying to hide. It immediately pegged her as being raised in a noble house, though why she would hide that was beyond him. But he liked her voice. He liked hearing her talk. He found her to be especially pretty, though he hadn't quite decided what he thought of her assertiveness, even though that's what drew him to her earlier. He'd seen her pleading her case in Snowdonia, she was about his age, she was easy to look at, and he really did want to help her. He certainly knew what it was like to want to be someone and have everyone doubt you. Or force you down another path.

"Yes." Riordann replied calmly. "And because of that spell, they think we're their enemies. And they will try to kill us because of it."

"Our own realmmates?" She said with disbelief, still trying to grasp everything she'd been told. At Snowdonia, Finias had only mentioned to them that they were undertaking a mission in the Labyrinth. He hadn't felt the need to explain much more than that because they'd been so eager to go, Kat especially, which technically made it her fault for not bothering to find out just what she was agreeing to.

"Surely we can't fight our own people?" Malcolm asked, in what was probably the second time Finias had heard him say anything. His voice was deep and regal, another clue to noble upbringing. In fact, he hadn't noticed before, but he sensed the hint of an accent, one that placed his youth in Cornwall, perhaps. Is that where they'd grown up?

"You can if they start fighting you." Aiden said, watching the shoreline. Like Finias, he'd only been half paying attention to the story.

"But if they can't control it, then wouldn't you be murdering them?" Kat asked, although it was less a question and more an accusation.

"You'd rather they murder us?" Aiden quipped. Kat turned to her brother in frustration, but all he could muster in return was the same worried look he'd had on his face ever since leaving Snowdonia.

The talk of murder made Finias uncomfortable, and it reminded him of yet another topic he'd been trying to avoid thinking about. Along with everything else on his mind today, he'd been ruminating about his fight with the Thane near that goblin village. He could still see himself firing two arrows into that Thane, killing him almost instantly. He could see the Thane's body falling to the ground, lifeless. He remembered carrying that body to Camelot, and being unable to look anywhere but at the two wounds in the Norseman's neck and head. He'd never killed anyone before that moment, despite years of prodding from his father, and he feared what would become of him if it ever happened. Now it had, and he didn't feel different, but still he worried. He worried, because those images in his mind were fading. He expected to have that moment ingrained in him forever, but he was already having trouble remembering all of the details. Finias had spent every moment since then expecting to be sick, to be ashamed, hoping for any kind of physical response as retribution for that act. But he felt nothing. No remorse, at least none that he didn't try to fabricate himself. No guilt. Nothing. And that scared him more than anything else.

"I know it's strange," Riordann said, "but we're going there to help them. And we'll do what we can to avoid them. But-but you must be ready to do your part."

"I don't know..." Katarina's voice trailed off, but no one else on the ferry cared to fill the silence, and they continued north with little discussion. Finias thought he would be glad to have quiet, but he soon wished people would start talking again, about anything, just to get his mind on something, anything else. He was tired of worrying, tired of feeling angry, and most of all he was tired of running.

It was only about twenty minutes later when they saw the Benowyc docks ahead of them, on the west side of the river. As the ferryman began to steer the ferry closer to the left bank, Riordann explained the dangers that lie ahead once they disembarked. Caer Benowyc was on the east side of the river, on a small island that split the river, so they would have to move north from the docks across a dangerously open stretch of riverbank before they could cross the bridge to get to the keep. A small hill dotted with clumps of trees overlooked the river bank, where enemies could be lying in wait, so the run to Benowyc would be dangerous. Archers from Hibernia and Midgard liked to hide in those trees and look for stragglers moving back and forth between the docks and the bridge, and that's exactly what a small, ill-equipped group of five was out in the frontier - stragglers.

"Don't dawdle out here." That was Aiden's only advice.

The ferry finally reached the dock where a small contingent of about five soldiers stood guard. They'd be useless in a big fight, but they served to keep smaller groups away in most cases. The ferryman threw a rope to the dockmaster, who caught it and used it to pull the ferry up alongside the near edge of the dock. Aiden stepped up first while holding Bastion under one arm, followed by Riordann, and Finias noticed that both men kept a watchful eye on that hill to the west. Kat went up next, followed by Malcolm, and Finias reluctantly climbed up last, almost immediately missing the gentle rocking of the waves.

"How are things today?" Riordann asked the dockmaster, a young Briton wearing woefully inadequate leather armor.

"Been quiet out here." He replied cautiously. Riordann nodded, then followed Aiden, who had already stepped off the dock and onto the grassy riverbank. They both turned to Finias, Kat and Malcolm, who hurried to follow, then started walking - quickly - toward the bridge that was around four hundred paces ahead of them.

They were just shy of halfway there when Kat spoke. "I think that maybe when we reach Caer Benowyc," she began, slowly, "we can just try to help with the defense there. I appreciate the trouble you've all gone to today, and I know not everyone would have done the same. But I'm not sure my brother and I should be involved in all of this."

Finias knew exactly what she was feeling. She was in over her head and she wanted to get away.

"I think you would be doing more for your realm by stopping what's down there, than simply defending the walls of Caer Benowyc from another attack." Riordann said.

Kat just looked at the ground. "I'm sorry."

"So you're running away." Finias said. "Like children."

"What?" Kat seemed offended by the notion.

"You wanted to prove yourself, right? To show you two could do this? Well, here you go." Finias held his arms out, motioning to the frontier that surrounded them. "You don't always get to pick your fights, right Aiden?"

Aiden glanced back at him curiously when he said that, but he just nodded and kept walking, ignoring the conversation behind him. "Right."

"Well this is your chance. It may not be the one you wanted, or hoped for, but this is it. What we're doing is important, and we're going to need help. But what we don't need is two children who run away at the first sign of trouble."

Kat's mouth opened in surprise, but no words came out, while Malcolm's eyes just grew wide at the suggestion. Finias was sure they were used to being chastised by people much older than him, but to have someone their own age - roughly - call them out was a shock. But that's what he wanted. He hadn't known it at the time, but when he'd decided two nights ago to go through with this plan, he'd made a decision to stand up to his father. He realized that now. Maybe it started as youthful defiance, or arrogance, but now he had been able to think it through, and decide that it was the path he truly wanted to take. He'd stood up to Varus once before, by running away, but there would be no more running. Now, he was ready to face his demons head on, and he didn't need anyone holding him back. These two children were either ready to back up their claims, or they could go back to Snowdonia with their tails between their legs.

"You listen here, you-" Malcolm began, but he never got a chance to finish. Finias saw a small dark globe of magical energy fly at them from his left, and he twisted away just as an explosion of blackness enveloped them. He felt the wave of energy scatter around him, and the touch of it felt cold to his skin. He turned back and saw Riordann, Kat and Malcolm lying on the ground, recovering their senses, while Aiden spun around and hefted his shield up in front of them, facing the hill to the northwest. That's when Finias saw what the Armsman was looking at.

Hibernians. Elves, Firbolgs, Lurikeens and Celts were starting to stream over the hill. Only a few at first, but more were showing up. Finias pulled out his bow and reached for an arrow. All he could think of was to attack, to fight back, but there were too many. He didn't know who to aim at. All he saw was an army slowly pouring over the hillside, coming right at them. All he could see was his death.

Chapter 11

"Move!"

Riordann heard Aiden's commanding shout above him as he felt a hand grab his arm just under the shoulder and haul him up off the ground. His eyes were open, but he was dazed and his vision was blurry. He didn't have to wonder what had happened, though, because he already knew. He recognized the Void magic of the Eldritch, a Hibernian mage who commanded strange and otherworldly powers, just as it hit. Luckily, it was a glancing blow, and he didn't think he was hurt too badly, but Aiden was right. They needed to move before their luck changed.

"This way! Up that hill!" Aiden kept shouting, and Riordann's vision cleared enough for him to see the Armsman helping Malcolm up off the ground too, and Finias helping Kat behind him. Once Malcolm was up on his feet, Aiden started running, leading them northwest, away from the bridge. Riordann followed, as did the others, and he looked back to see dozens of Hibernian invaders streaming over the hill to their west, across from the docks they'd just left on their way to Caer Benowyc. Ahead of the pack was a single, brazen elven mage, the Eldritch who no doubt had attacked them first, running ahead to get in range for another attack. As soon as he saw the Hibernians, Riordann suspected that they'd come by boat down the west shores of Hadrian's Wall, which is what they called the lands surrounding Caer Benowyc, and landed on the far side of the western hills. He'd seen this maneuver countless times before. They were no doubt headed this way to attack Benowyc, and saw Riordann's small group as easy pickings on their way to the keep. There was no way they'd outrun the Hibs up the riverbank and across the bridge - which might be hiding unseen advance Hibernian spies anyway - so Aiden was leading them to a closer defensive location, the western Benowyc guard tower. It was just up the hill across from the bridge, and it would give them at least a brief respite, but in the long run they couldn't hope to defend that tower alone, even with the guard contingent already there. They were going to need help.

Riordann heard a clang to his right, and he turned to see Malcolm stumbling forward from the force of an arrow that must have glanced off his shoulder. He held out a steadying hand, and Malcolm regained his footing then nodded his gratitude. That was followed by several more bolts of magic that flew wildly around them. The Hibs had Bards with them, mages who used their own special magic to push those around them, making them move even faster than normal. Which meant that what little lead they had on the Hibernians was disappearing... fast.

They reached a small clump of trees at the base of the hillside that provided them some cover, and the five of them, along with Aiden's dog, Bastion, darted through the brush. Riordann heard the whistle of an arrow as it flew just over his head, and a magical bolt hit a tree a few paces to his left, causing bark and splinters to spray out. Kat let out a muffled scream, and Riordann slowed to make sure she was okay. Her eyes were wide and her face was white, but physically she was all right, so he just grabbed her arm and held on as they ran through the trees. He was moving by instinct now, staying low and behind cover, moving fast, creating space and giving his enemies little to no target. It was what he'd done for over twenty years now, and he didn't even think about it anymore. He did feel fear, though, but it wasn't from the Hibernians. He was afraid of not making it back. He was afraid that after all this time, to be so close to returning to the Labyrinth, he could be stopped almost within sight of his goal.

As the tree cover cleared in front of them, Riordann could see the top of the stone tower popping up from behind the crest of the hill. The flag of Albion flew proudly at the top, and Riordann breathed a sigh of relief that the tower was still in Albion hands - although that could change shortly. They bounded out of the trees, sprinting up to the top of the hill and over the crest, the tower only about forty paces away now. It was a short, squat thing, three stories tall, made of stone, with a wide base that housed a stable and a small troop of guards, anywhere from eight to twenty depending on the need for defense in a particular area. It narrowed at the top, where the roof was surrounded by stone battlements, and manned by two or three archers and on occasion a Wizard. Two men-at-arms stood guard on either side of the wooden double doors, armored in full chain with spears in one hand and shields in the other. They must have heard the sounds of battle because they were hauling the doors open and one was yelling inside. When they saw Riordann and the others run toward the tower, they opened the door wider, recognizing fellow Albion citizens, and watched the horizon carefully for a sign of attack.

"Close the doors!" Aiden shouted as they ran through the entryway. "Hibs are attacking, from the south." He said, stopping just inside the doors. The two guards stepped inside after them and pulled the doors shut.

A stocky younger man, probably in his mid-twenties, met them just inside the doors. He was wearing the uniform of a Sergeant, chain armor topped with a plate hauberk, and covered with a red and blue surcoat, and he looked almost as scared as Kat. "What in God's name is happening out there?" He asked. Two other men were behind him, an archer and a man-at-arms.

"There's an army of Hibs outside." Aiden said, trying to catch his breath. "They came over the hill west of the docks. Did your men see their boats approach?"

The Sergeant looked confused. He turned to look at the archer who just shook his head. "No. We didn't see anything. No one arrived by boat along the west shore."

"You need to get this door barricaded and archers and casters up top fast. Where's your Commander?" Aiden shouted. The Sergeant looked like he was about to respond, but then he saw Aiden's brand, uncovered now that Aiden's hood had blown back during the run to the tower. A look of disgust swept across the Sergeant's face, and Aiden must have realized what happened, because his tone suddenly changed. "Where is your Commander?" He asked again, calmly.

The Sergeant still seemed flustered by the events. "He's at - at Beno." He said, but he was looking at Riordann now. "We had a Wizard arrive some time ago, hurt, and he went to fetch a Cleric."

"You're in charge, then?" Aiden asked.

"I am." The Sergeant stiffened. "I'm Sergeant Alder, of the Fifth Brigade. And I'd take care to remember that. Especially you."

Aiden was now noticeably trying to compose himself. "Sergeant Alder, the signal fire needs to be lit-" Aiden stopped when he heard a shout from above. The men up top had apparently seen the Hibs approaching.

"I don't need you to tell me how to do my job out here." Alder said to Aiden.

Riordann felt his patience wearing thin. He knew that if they didn't hurry, they'd be dead, and this Sergeant, as well meaning as he may be, would be a barrier to that if he didn't let experienced people take charge.

"Sergeant, my name is Riordann, of the Warhounds. I served as a Lieutenant under Captain Andreas. Do you know who that is?"

Sergeant Alder said nothing at first. His face showed that he knew those names, though whether he believed Riordann or not wasn't yet sure. The roars of encroaching Hibernians outside reminded everyone of their predicament, though, and Alder shook his head quickly. "Of-of course, sir. I know of you both."

"Then do me this favor, Sergeant. Consider everything this man says," he pointed to Aiden, "as a command coming from my own mouth. Do you understand?"

The Sergeant said nothing, his incessant blinking the only clue to his consciousness. Riordann was growing more frustrated by the second. Finally, "Him, sir?"

"Did you not hear me the first time?" Riordann asked, trying to sound as imposing as he could. It wasn't natural for him, but time was of the essence. He was too close now to let anything else slow him down.

"Yes, sir. I did."

"Good. Then get your men ready to defend this tower." His hand started to shake and he instinctively clenched it into a fist.

"Yes." Alder said, flustered. "Of course. Umm-"

"Get your archers to the top of the tower and light the signal fire so the defenders at Beno will know." Aiden said. "Everyone else needs to stay down here and barricade this door with anything that moves. You," Aiden grabbed Malcolm's chest plate at the shoulder, "stay with me." Malcolm nodded and moved next to Aiden, looking lost. Aiden turned to Riordann next. "Can you check up top?"

Riordann nodded and headed for the stairs. "Finias. Kat. Follow me, please." He said, and they both eagerly moved up the stairs behind him, although Kat still seemed shaken by the ordeal. Riordann had been here many times before, and he knew the place like the back of his hand. This tower, along with most in the Albion frontier, consisted of three levels, the bottom floor, which housed a small barracks and stable, a mid-level floor where the Commander's quarters and a storeroom could be found, and a top level, which was basically a roof surrounded by stone battlements. The stairs were built into the walls, wrapping around one half of the floor on it's way to the next. The second floor stairs only went to a landing halfway up, though, where a ladder reached up to a wooden panel in the ceiling that opened out onto the roof.

"Excuse me, sir." Alder said, suddenly appearing next to Riordann as they approached the second floor landing. "You're a Friar, aren't you?"

"I am."

"I was thinking," he began, "that perhaps you could look at the Wizard who showed up earlier. He's in bad shape, but if you could heal him, he could surely help us here."

" Of course, where is he?"

"He's in the Commander's quarters." Alder motioned behind him. "It's the room we just passed."

"Certainly." Riordann replied calmly. "After I find out what we're up against."

After climbing the ladder, they stepped onto the roof, which was surrounded by stone battlements, with wide embrasures, or crenels, between them. The crenels allowed archers and casters to attack from above while still providing them some cover. There were already two Scouts standing near the edge, each wearing full studded armor covered by the red and blue livery of Albion's army. Their bows were drawn, and they were firing arrows down onto the Hibernian invaders. They glanced at the newcomers and nodded at the Sergeant, but continued their assault unabated. Riordann led Finias and Kat to the edge of the wall and peered down through the closest opening. He could see around fifty Hibernians below him attacking the front of the tower, while three times that number seemed to be moving down the slope of the hill toward the bridge that led to the keep. This was no small force. This was the beginning of an invasion.

Riordann leaned back and let Kat and Finias take a look. "Careful." He said. "Don't linger, or else they'll get a good shot at you." Kat quickly stepped back, but Finias took his time, carefully gauging the enemy. An arrow bounced off the stone next to him and everyone nearby ducked. Riordann backed away from the edged, and then motioned to the battlements nearest him. "You two should set up there. I'll try to be back shortly to check on you. Finias." He said, and the young Scout looked at him. Riordann motioned to Kat. "Try to keep an eye on her."

Finias smirked, then pulled out his bow. "She'll be okay."

Riordann walked back to the ladder, but as he turned he saw something that caught him off guard. To the north, across the water, was the island of Agramon, where the main entrances to the Labyrinth could be found. Riordann's hand started shaking when he saw that, and he quickly closed his eyes and tried to fight off the urge to run as fast as he could to that place. He wanted to be back there more than anything, and that urge was powerful, so much so that he feared what it was doing to him. He needed to stay in control, though, for the sake of everyone else around him.

He felt his eyelids flicking open and closed, shuttering like hummingbird wings, and his legs started losing their strength. He reached out to the ladder, to steady himself, but it wasn't there. Suddenly, he was outside, in a vast wheat field. It was his field. His farm. He saw the brown timbered house where he lived off in the distance, and three children, his children, playing in front. He smiled, and started walking back to them, so he could scoop them up in his arms, and kiss each one on the cheek. He hoped his wife was inside, preparing dinner, and then they'd all eat and - and... He slowed his pace, confused. He couldn't remember his wife's name. He struggled, thinking it was just on the tip of his tongue, but nothing came to him. Maybe his oldest son would remember. But now his name was gone from his memory. As were the other two. He couldn't remember anything about them now.

A blast of void magic hitting the battlements shook him from his dream and he nearly stumbled forward reaching for the ladder. After steadying himself, he looked around, and noticed that everyone was still exactly where they'd been - no time had passed. Everything had happened in an instant, just like it always did. He quickly hurried down the ladder and once he reached the landing below he took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. His waking dreams were far less frequent now than when he'd been a captive, but it was still jarring when he came back to reality. He heard a noise above and saw Sergeant Alder following him down. He waited until Alder reached the landing and then they walked down the stairs to the second floor.

"Why did your commander go to the keep?" Riordann asked, feeling the need to say something, anything. "Why didn't he send someone instead?"

"We've had problems getting men and supplies from them lately. He wanted to go himself so he could yell at someone about it."

"Terrible timing, I'd say."

"Of course, sir."

"The Wizard is here?" Riordann said, pointing to the door at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes, inside. That's the Commander's quarters."

"I'll check on him. Go back down and tell everyone what we saw."

"Right away." Alder said, and he bounded around the corner and down the next stairwell. Riordann heard an explosion outside the walls as he reached for the door handle - Eldritches trying to attack the doors, he presumed - and he cursed his luck for running into a marauding army of Hibs just as he came in sight of Agramon. His agitation was turning to anger, and his mind raced back to those three months he'd spent in a dungeon, alone and in the dark, and how he'd bided his time until he could make it back. All of that was about to be wasted, thanks to some terrible, terrible timing.

Inside was a fairly meager office, with a simple wooden desk sitting in front of a small window slit, some maps arrayed on the walls, an empty armor stand in the corner to his left, and a wooden cot to his right. In the cot was a disheveled man with long, stringy white hair. He wore the purple robes of a high ranking Wizard, but they were covered in mud and dirt, as was his face, although he was turned away from him, asleep and facing the wall. Riordann moved next to the cot and leaned over to examine the man's wounds, but he couldn't find any obvious ones. In fact, this Wizard seemed to be more malnourished and exhausted than injured.

"Wake up." He patted the man's arm, trying to wake him gently, although the fact that he'd slept through the commotion up to this point meant he might need to resort to rougher tactics. Surprisingly, the Wizard's eyes flittered open, and he turned to face the Friar, who was now kneeling on the ground next to him. Riordann had initially thought this man was a bit older than him, due to his white hair and haggard appearance, but now he thought differently. This Wizard was probably around his age, maybe a bit younger even. In fact, as he stared at the gaunt face before him, he started to realize that he recognized the man under the dirt and mud.

And Riordann smiled, for he knew that Fate had struck again, for this was no ordinary Wizard. The man he saw lying before him was his friend and fellow Warhound, lost to him in the caverns below the Labyrinth on that fateful day three months ago.

"Landon?" He asked, hoping he wasn't imagining this, too.

The Wizard slowly looked up at him, his eyes squinting, then opening in surprise. "Riordann?" He said quietly, staring back as if wondering himself whether this was a dream. "Is that you?"

Riordann gave his old friend a hug. "It is. I'm here."

"I can't believe I found you." Landon said. His voice was hoarse and raw, like he hadn't spoken in some time.

"Found me?" Riordann was surprised. "How are you even here? I thought you were still down under the Labyrinth."

"I was. I..." His voice trailed off and he seemed lost in thought. Then, "I escaped. I'm not sure how."

Riordann heard a loud thump from below, and he grimaced. The Hibs already had a ram up on the door, and they would break through in moments.

"I'm going to heal you, Landon. Are you hurt anywhere?"

Landon thought about that a moment, then shook his head. "I'm tired." He said.

Riordann smiled. "I can fix that." He said, and he began to cast his healing spells. He wasn't able to finish the first one, however, before stopping with a grimace on his face. Guilt was suddenly tugging horribly at Riordann's soul. He wanted to go back to the Labyrinth, to where his friends were. That's what he told Aiden and Finias. But he wasn't going there to save them, no matter how much he pretended that to be the case. He couldn't tell them the real reason, not until they saw it for themselves, and they would, soon. But he'd been able to accept his lies up to this point because he thought his friends down there were already beyond saving. He thought they were either dead, or in a place they didn't need rescue from.

But now, seeing Landon here, he knew there really was a chance to save the others. And that went against everything he'd hoped for the last three months. If he'd made it out, the others could, too. And the idea of that tore him apart inside. He could save them, but did he want to anymore?

"Landon, we're going back to the Labyrinth." Riordann said, the lie coming naturally to him by now. "To save the others."

"I know." Landon said quietly. "That's why I'm here."

"What?"

"I don't know how I escaped, but I know who helped me. He saved me, Riordann. He sent me to find help." Landon was smiling now.

"Who did?" Riordann asked.

"King Arthur." Landon said reverently. "He's returned to save us all."

Chapter 12

Malcolm waited anxiously at the foot of the stairs as the tower door - and the tower itself he thought - shook violently from the impact of the Hibernian ram. The Hibs were pounding the door from the outside, sieging the tower as the first step in an apparent Albion invasion and Malcolm was trying his best to settle his nerves. He knew what was about to happen, he remembered the stories his uncle told him about keep and tower sieges and the bloody room to room combat that entailed once the door came down, and he wanted to be ready. He was counting the seconds between each strike of the ram, using the monotony of it to keep his mind occupied, and calm against the threat of death that was looming over everyone in the room. Counting was a trick his uncle had taught him as a child, long before he'd died out here in the realm wars, and Malcolm stuck to it as a way to honor him. It helped him focus, whether during sword-training drills, working on his footwork, or any of the other mundane chores his uncle had insisted he perform as part of his training. He'd tried to get his sister, who was far more excitable than he was, to try counting to calm herself, but she thought it was silly. He wondered if she still thought so now.

"Hold!" Aiden shouted, as he, Sergeant Alder, and four men-at-arms pushed up against the interior of the door, which was barricaded by a thick wooden beam that sat on metal brackets, as well as a shelf full of chain and leather armor pieces, two wooden chairs, and a bench. Malcolm would have been helping, but there was no more room at the door, and Aiden had told him to wait here, so he was waiting here. He was scared. He could admit that to himself. Who wouldn't be in a situation like this, with an army waiting outside those wooden doors, ready to slaughter everyone inside? But he was also just a little proud of himself, because he'd discovered in these last few moments that he was more worried about living up to his uncle's expectations than whatever may be on the other side of that door. He was inexperienced, and he was raw, but right at this moment he knew he would rather fight than run away. And if he was to die today, then at least it would be as a warrior, and not a scared little child playing pretend, which he knew was how everyone thought of him.

The door shook again, and Malcolm heard a loud crack in the wooden beam. "They're almost in!" Aiden shouted. He backed away from the door and picked up his shield, which had been lying on the ground nearby. "Form a shield wall high up on those stairs! You." Aiden slapped a nearby man-at-arms on the shoulder. "Go up top and tell them to get down here. We need everyone here in the stairwell!" The man-at-arms nodded and ran past Malcolm and up the stairs. The others started running past him as well but they stopped about halfway up, where the stairs disappeared behind the walls of the second floor above them as they wrapped around the inner wall. They hefted their shields and began forming two lines, three men wide, with shields overlapping. This was where they would make their stand.

Aiden sent Bastion, who'd been sitting at the base of the stairs, up to the second floor with a quick shout and nudge in the dog's backside. Then he picked up his spear, which was also laying on the ground, and handed it to Malcolm. "Here." He said. Malcolm took the wooden spear, and was a little underwhelmed by its meager quality. "It's a goblin spear. It's not much to look at, but it's brought me luck so far."

"What do I do with it?" Malcolm asked, not understanding why he couldn't just use his sword.

"You stand behind me in the shield wall, and you use that spear to gut anyone who gets close. Keep your shield on your back for now, and hold that thing with two hands. Then just jab it over my shoulder as hard as you can." Aiden held his fists together and made an overhand stabbing motion. "If they get past me, you drop the spear and use your sword instead, because that thing's useless in the front line. "Malcolm nodded and followed Aiden up the stairs, then took his place in the line just behind him. Malcolm's uncle had told him about fighting in the shield wall, how the enemies were close enough that you could feel the heat of their breath and smell the sweat on their face. It was the place where warriors were truly born, he'd always said, and Malcolm felt his stomach turn at the thought. The two men on either side of him were close in, shoulder to shoulder, and he felt cramped in the narrow space, but he wouldn't let them down. He held the spear up high and waited for the inevitable battle to come.

"If you're a Paladin, then you've learned your holy Chants, right?" Aiden asked, barely glancing back.

"Yes." Malcolm nodded.

"Good."Aiden said as he took his place between the two other men-at-arms in the front line. "Now would be a great time to use them."

Malcolm smiled, appreciating the levity. Aiden reminded him of his uncle somewhat, although he was an Armsman and not a Paladin. But still, they carried themselves with the same authority and they both had a boldness about them that made Malcolm think they were always in control and never afraid. Malcolm had adored his uncle, as had his sister, and even though he was reticent at first to go through with this trip to the Labyrinth, he felt sure he could serve with a man like Aiden.

The tower shook again, and this time the pounding was joined by a roar of Hibernian voices, followed by a cacophony of screeching and crashing below. From where he stood, Malcolm could only see the area of the bottom floor where the stairs reached the ground. But he knew what was happening as soon as he saw sunlight pour into the bottom of the stairwell. Shadows danced on the ground below them, and Malcolm gripped the wooden spear shaft tightly. The Hibernians were in the tower, and he would be face to face with them in seconds. Now was the time to make his uncle proud.

Kat had never been more terrified in her life. She was crouched down behind the battlements at the top of the tower, hiding for dear life from the small army of Hibernain casters and archers on the ground below. Arrows whistled over her head constantly while black and red magical bolts crashed into the stone around her, sending pieces of rock skittering across the roof behind her. A stone platform, about waist-high, stood in the center of the tower roof, supporting a giant stack of wood that was now covered in flames, a signal for the neighboring towers and keeps that they were under attack. Kat desperately hoped that an Albion army was nearby, and that they could see that signal fire and were on their way already. She knew it wasn't likely, but right now that hope was the only thing keeping her from losing her composure and embarrasing herself, or worse, fainting.

Finias was to her left, at the next battlement, calmly firing arrow after arrow at the Hibernians below and only casually moving or dodging away from return fire. She wondered how he was able to do that so easily, so unafraid. He was about her age, but he carried himself like he'd been fighting out here for years. His cold, dark eyes showed no fear or worry at all. Meanwhile, she was so completely petrified that she couldn't even muster the courage to peek back out from behind the wall to see how many Hibs were down there. She knew the door was being rammed down, she could feel it in the trembling vibrations that shook the entire tower, and wondered for the eigth time how much longer it would be before they broke it down and started pouring in. And that, of course, made her wonder how her first real trip to the frontier had gone so badly, and so quickly.

Kat was an elementalist, specifically an Earth Theurgist. Perhaps not a fully-trained one, but she was a Theurgist nonetheless, capable of raising the earth itself to attack her enemies or defend her allies. But all she could do right now was flinch at every nerve-wracking whine, pop, rumble or hiss around her. Kat closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her progressions. Her abilities were mostly defensive in nature, providing support to those around her, and her uncle had helped her devise a set of progressions, ability checklists basically, to go through in different situations. She knew a spell that created a magical, invisible 'bubble' around herself and her allies, that would sometimes protect against a sword strike or most arrows. She could imbue melee weapons with tiny bits of earth that made them more jagged, or she could sharpen blades to help them penetrate armor. She could also lighten the weight of the heavy metals those weapons were made of, allowing their wielders to swing them faster.

But her defining ability as a Theurgist was the magic that allowed her to create Earth Beings, or what she referred to as her little pets. She could animate the ground itself and create small creatures made of rock, usually as tall as her knee. They had little in the way of defining features, looking mostly like big rocks cobbled together in the vague shape of a person, but she could create and control around a dozen at a time, and send them at different targets. The focus and concentration required for such a task was great, and the longest she'd been able to sustain that many pets at once before was less than a minute. But her little pets could turn the tide of a battle - as her uncle kept telling her. He'd always remind her that a Warrior from Midgard or a Hero from Hibernia would have little trouble with those things, but an archer or caster in the back lines would have a terrible time trying to focus on their duties with all those pets pounding on their legs. It wasn't glamorous work, but it was important, and that's why she needed to try to help.

Her other spells were far more useful to the men defending below, like her brother, and she was upset with herself for not thinking of that before coming up here, but she could try and keep the attackers distracted enough that Finias or the other archers with her could hit them without worrying too much about getting hit back. The problem, though, was that to create a pet she needed to see who she would send the pet against, as that was part of the creation spell. If she couldn't see her target, then the pet would just stand there, lifeless, until the magic wore off. She swallowed and counted to ten, taking a deep breath at each number - another trick her uncle taught her - then slowly moved toward the edge of the battlement, hoping to find a Hib near the edges away from too many others, and hoping even more to find one that wasn't paying too close attention to the tower roof. She just needed time to concentrate without getting killed.

Just as her eyes reached the edge of the stone, however, she heard a explosion behind her. Kat ducked without even thinking, fearing the worst, but as soon as she realized she wasn't hurt she turned to see the crossbowman to her right laying on the ground a few feet from her, clutching his arm and gritting his teeth in pain. She couldn't see a wound, but she knew he was hurt because blood was dripping through his chain armor near the shoulder. Her first instinct was to grab him and pull him back against the wall, or maybe to the ladder, but her body wasn't moving. Stepping away from the battlement meant exposing herself to the casters and archers below, and just giving them a second could be enough to get her killed. But she needed to do something. She'd gone through too much to get here, and she needed to prove herself. But even though Kat knew all of this, she couldn't make herself leave that wall.

"The door's coming down!" Kat heard a shout, and turned to see a man-at-arms on the ladder, poking his head up through the roof panel. He disappeared a second later and at first she didn't know what to do, but when she saw the other archers around her start to pack up their bows and arrow bags, she realized that everyone was moving back down. One of the other archers ducked over to the injured crossbowman and helped him up to his feet and Kat felt disappointment welling up inside her as she watched someone else help him to the ladder. She was desperate to get back inside, where there were walls and a roof that could protect her. But now her conscience balked at the thought of looking like a useless failure by scurrying off the roof before the others. So she sat still and waited as everyone else grabbed their gear and moved down the ladder. Everyone except one.

"Finias!" She shouted. "Come on!"

He either didn't hear her or he was ignoring her, because he hadn't moved from his spot, still firing away with a look on his face that suggested he was enjoying this. Kat held her breath, then leaped away from the battlement, toward the ladder. She refused to crawl on the ground, even though it was safer, and for once her will dictated her actions instead of fear. She quickly stepped down a few rungs of the ladder, and relished the protection she now felt with stone walls around her, but when she glanced back at Finias, she noticed he still hadn't moved from his spot.

"Finias!"

He slowed his assault just long enough to glance back at her in annoyance. "Go! I'll catch up!"

Kat almost heeded him, stepping down the ladder to safety, but then she thought back to the injured archer, and she knew she couldn't just run off and leave anyone else to their fate. She'd failed during a critical moment, and she needed to make up for that if she was to live up to her own expectations. A loud crash came from below mixed with a roar of Hibernian cheers, and her stomach twisted again. The door must be down. Her brother was down there, and he needed her help, which meant she needed to do something quickly. There was no more time to be indecisive.

"Finias!" She screamed at him as she climbed back up onto the roof. "We have to go! Now!" She lunged toward him and grabbed his arm, intending to pull him back toward the ladder, but what happened next was lost to the blackness that suddenly overtook her.

Riordann stared blankly at his old friend, lying weakly on a cot in the Commander's quarters and wondered if he'd found him after all this time, just to see him lost to madness.

"Arthur is dead, Landon." He explained, like a parent would to a child. "He died thirty years ago."

Landon shook his head. "I saw him. He told me he was in trouble. He said he needed help."

"You saw him... in a dream?" Riordann asked hopefully.

"No! No, he was there. I could - I could touch him."

Riordann sighed heavily. He didn't have any abilities that would help him tend a muddled mind. They would need a Sorceror for that. All he could do was heal his wounds and rejuvenate his aching bones and muscles, and hope that that would be enough for him think clearly.

"Let me heal you. It will help you relax, and clear your mind. You'll feel better."

Landon smiled weakly and laid his head down.. "He told me others were coming, Riordann. I knew it was you."

Riordann smiled back as he started casting his spells. "I'm glad you thought so." A question came to him just then. "What about Andreas? Or Tholstan? Did you see them, too?"

Landon closed his eyes and grimaced as Riordann clasped his left hand and let his healing magic course through the Wizard's body. "No. Are they still down there?"

Riordann tried to be careful with his answer. He wanted to know if either of them had been spotted going back to those caverns, to help prove his suspicions, especially about Andreas. But he didn't feel the need to get Landon caught up in his worries until he knew it to be true. "They escaped with me."

"Are they here, too?"

"No. " Riordann shook his head. "It's a long story." Riordann pulled his hands away and watched as Landon opened his eyes and slowly lifted himself up. His strength was returning quickly, Riordann noticed, and his eyes were clear and alert. He sat on the edge of the cot and started rubbing his face.

"How long was I down there?" He asked.

"About three months."

His expression didn't change at first, but then understanding slowly started to seep in and Riordann saw surprise on his old friend's face. "Are you sure?"

"I am." Riordann nodded slowly.

"It didn't feel that long."

"It did for me." Riordann said quietly, thinking back to his captivity. His three months in that dungeon felt like three years, and only his dreams kept him from losing his own mind. He heard muffled shouts outside the door, and the sound of armored footsteps running by, and he knew the significance of that.

"What's that noise?" Landon asked. He was looking around the room as if he'd just realized where he was.

"Hibs are attacking. Sounds like they're almost through the door." Riordann raised an eyebrow at his old friend. "If I remember correctly, this is the kind of situation where your talents are quite useful."

Landon stared at one of the maps on the wall nearby, but Riordann suspected that he wasn't really looking at it. "How was I gone that long?"

"I don't know." Riordann was suddenly jealous of Landon, envious of the fact that he'd not known the passage of time during his ordeal. But that only steeled his resolve. Once he returned, he could do the same, and his pain would be forgotten. "Do you remember your dreams?"

Landon looked confused at that question. "What dreams?"

"You don't remember what you dreamt of down there?"

"I, uh... " He began. His eyes darted back and forth, like he was remembering something, but then he blinked and snapped out of it. "I don't really remember much of anything. I don't even remember sleeping. But I must have, somewhere down there."

"But you remember Arthur? Alive?"

Landon hesitated, and Riordann was glad. Maybe his friend had just been delirious earlier, ranting from exhaustion. But that moment didn't last long. "I do." He nodded, not looking at Riordann. "That wasn't a dream, Riordann. Everything that happened down there was hazy. But I remember that at least. He came to me, and he told me I would be the one to save him. Me, Riordann." Landon shook his head at the thought. "He said I'd find help, and I have. So now it's up to us to do what comes next."

"What comes next?" Riordann asked carefully.

Landon stood up slowly and groaned, stretching his sore muscles. Riordann stood to help him, but the Wizard waved him off. "I'm going to go kill some Hibs." He smiled then grabbed Riordann by the shoulders, suddenly confident in his demeanor. "And then we're going to save Albion."

Landon opened the door and walked out, and Riordann frowned. His entire plan had just become much more complicated, and he worried how it would affect those around him. And what he might have to do if they wanted to stop him.

Somehow, Finias knew it was coming before it even happened. His arrows weren't especially effective against the heavy armor of the Hibernians manning the ram, so instead he'd been aiming for the casters and healers in the back lines and watching in amusement as they scurried about for cover while he picked them off one by one. At first, he'd only been trying to push them back by aiming for their legs and arms, or even incapaciate them to keep them from casting or firing arrows back. But that had been a bad idea. The Hibs were smart, and by leaving them alive, they'd been able to plan a counter attack. They moved out of range, or changed their targets, or slipped out of his range of vision, all to distract him or to lull him into thinking he was winning. And just when Kat tried to pull him back, they had moved in and attacked his position en masse. He saw the barrage of bolts and arrows coming from the corner of his eye, and he'd been able to dodge the brunt of it as stone exploded around him, but Kat was hit in the head, and she fell to the ground in a heap. Incredibly bad timing on her part, he figured.

Finias leaned over and checked her breathing, and was relieved to find that she was still alive. But her hair was matted with blood, and she'd need Riordann's help very soon. He knew how dangerous a head wound could be and there was no point in taking any chances. He looked back and saw that the battlement he'd been hiding behind was half destroyed anyway, and he counted himself lucky to not be dead right now. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, then leaned over to pick her up intending to carry her down to the lower levels. As he leaned over, though, he saw blood on his sleeve. He wiped his forehead with his hand this time and confirmed that he was also bleeding. He hadn't felt the wound at first, but now he could feel a throbbing in the side of his head, which was quickly getting worse. But all of a sudden he wasn't worried about that, or even concerned about Kat. The only thing he felt was anger. He was angry at himself for getting hurt, and angry at the Hibernians for even being here. He wasn't about to let these Hib invaders come to his lands and take a piece of him or of any one else. Not now, not ever. He grabbed his bow again, leaving Kat lying unconscious on the roof behind him, and leaped over to the next battlement.

He peered around the edge and saw that most of the Hibernians have rushed inside the broken door, but several of the casters and healer were staying back, their arms moving frantically as they worked to keep those in front of them alive. They probably thought they'd killed him with their attack but he was about to prove them dead wrong. He loosed arrow after arrow at the attackers below, and while a few missed their mark, most did not. One pierced a Lurikeen in the leg, just below the hip. Another caught a Celt in the center of his chest. Then he struck an Elf in the neck, who dropped to the ground, writhing about and clutching his throat. Finias reveled in the moment, no longer concerned about the bloodlust he'd feared his whole life. It was coming naturally to him now, one arrow after another. Suddenly, he was a hunter, perched on the high ground, and everything below him was prey.

He found a Hibernian mage, an Eldritch maybe, he didn't really know. He was dressed all in black, black robe, black cloak, black boots, and he was waving his arms about maniacally in the casting motions of whichever Hib caster he'd wasted his time training to become. Finias fired an arrow at him and saw it strike the mage's chest, near his right shoulder. The mage spun away, clutching at the arrow, and started to run away clumsily, but Finias would have none of that. He fired again, this time striking the mage in the calf, and he fell to the ground. Finias ducked back behind the battlement, and pictured his next shot in his mind. The killing shot. He pulled the arrow out, nocked it, then stepped back over to the crenellation and fired. The arrow found it's mark, puncturing the Hib's throat at an angle that caused the bodkin to exit from the back of the head. The Hib stopped writhing and Finias smiled at how easy this was for him.

He aimed for another target, a Celt Ranger, Hibernia's counter to the Scout. The Celt fired an arrow at Finias' position, but he ducked back as it bounced harmlessly off the edge of the battlement. Finias peered back around and aimed at the Celt, and saw that he was running away, hoping to get out of range most likely. Finias aimed for the Ranger's legs, hoping to cripple him like the mage, but the Ranger made that a moot point when he stopped. Finias glanced just ahead of the Ranger, noticing movement in the trees behind the Hibernian attackers, the same movement the Ranger was now seeing, and backing away from. Finias saw him turn and run back to his allies, shouting something in warning, only to get cut down by an axe in his back. The Ranger dropped to the ground, still alive, but barely, and Finias watched as a new horde of attackers emerged from the shadows of the forest to finish him off, mercilessly.

The Firbolg Hero was inches from Aiden's face, and he was laughing.

Hibernians didn't have Armsmen. They had Heroes. That was the word they used in their language to describe the same kind of soldier that Aiden was - heavily armored, shield, large weapons, a true front line combatant. Because of the physical nature of the job, most Heroes were Firbolgs, one of the 'old races' of Hibernia, the peoples of that island who'd inhabited it long before the Celts came. Firbolgs were large, about a head talled than Britons, with a strong yet gangly frame, long arms, and big feet. Their head was bigger than normal as well as a bit wider, making their faces look stretched over their skulls. This one had brown eyes, a wide nose and mouth, short spiky black hair, and grizzled, tanned skin.

And he was laughing at Aiden.

They were pressed together is a clash of shield walls, Hibernia's soldiers trying to push up the narrow stairwell and Albion's soldiers trying to push them back down. Aiden was straining against the raw strength of the Firbolg, who was right in front of him, their shields locked together, their faces both desperate and angry. This one seemed to be their leader, shouting to the others around him to push forward in their language. His armor was polished and expensive, but it was also scratched, dented and dimmed by warfare, and that, to Aiden, was the mark of a dangerous and experienced warrior.

"Push!" Aiden shouted, and both lines of defenders took a coordinated step forward, albeit a small one, the second row pushing on the backs of those in front. The clanking of armor plates smashing into each other echoed through the stairwell, and the Hibernians held strong, using their greater numbers to keep the Albion defenders in place. Aiden saw the Hero's eyes dart up, then his head suddenly tilted to the side as a spear jabbed over Aiden's right shoulder, missing the Firbolg by inches.

Good try, Aiden thought. Malcolm had actually injured the first man to run up the stairs and engage them, a Celt Champion who barged into Aiden's shield only to take a spear into his arm. The Champion fell back, replaced by the Hero and all the rest of the Hibernian attackers, but Aiden had been surprisingly impressed by Malcolm at that moment and was glad to have him at his back.

The Hero roared a command of his own, and the Hibernian front line, supported by three more behind them, pushed up, and Aiden had no choice but to back up almost two steps. He was out of practice, his strength wasn't what it used to be, and now his muscles were screaming at him from the exertion. But there was no giving up now. Not unless he wanted death. A spear jabbed in under his shield, missing his legs, and Aiden responded by awkwardly hacking his own sword over his shield at the Celt on his right. The blow struck armor, but there wasn't enough force behind it to pierce the metal. Aiden cursed, wishing he had an axe instead, which was much more useful in a shield wall than a longsword.

"Push!" He yelled, and the Albs came forward again, and again they gained only inches of ground. The Firbolg yelled, and the Hibs pushed them back up another two steps. They were running out of room in the stairwell fast, and Aiden's only backup plan was to retreat up to the roof, where they could hopefully cut off attackers as they came up the stairs. That would work for a while, at least until the Hibs rained siege weapons down on them, or just razed the entire tower, destroying it, and them with it. The stairwell was curved, and that made it difficult for the Hib casters and archers to get a good shot at Aiden or his fellow defenders, so they could hold here for a few more minutes at least, maybe longer, but if no reinforcements showed up soon, they wouldn't survive this ordeal.

A crossbow bolt clanged off the helmet of a Celt in the second row, and Aiden glanced back to see that the archers from above were moving in behind them. The second and third rows of Hibs started raising their shields to provide cover for those in front, and a call went up in the back lines that no doubt warned those behind that archers were firing. Suddenly, a barrage of magical bolts hit the walls to Aiden's left, as the Hib casters down below began counterattacking. The explosions were small and glancing, but the man-at-arms closest to them, the one protecting Aiden's left side, fell back trying to take cover, and that was a huge mistake in a shield wall. Another Firbolg stood to the Hero's right, and he pushed up, knocking the man-at-arms off balance and sending him falling backward against the line behind him. Aiden twisted, partly because he was now exposed, and partly to try and pin the other Firbolg against the left wall before he could cut down the fallen Alb defender. The Hero in the center sensed the disorganization and he also pressed in, holding his sword high as he readied to strike.

Aiden knew the shield wall was about to fall apart around him, and he knew things would get really nasty if that happened. The second Firbolg was pushing past him, his sword out now, ready to gut the fallen man-at-arms like a pig. The only thing holding him back was the confined space and Aiden's jostling with his shield. But the Hero was about to get a clear shot at him, and he couldn't hold off both Firbolgs at once, while also avoiding tripping over the man to his left. He had to make a choice - he could either pick a target and commit to him, hoping the rest of the defenders around him could compensate until the man-at-arms was back on his feet, or he could try to hold both Firbolgs off, and surely fall himself in the process. So he gambled, and faced up against the Hero, knowing that God had not taken him this far just to see everything fall apart again. He just hoped that the men to his left could somehow protect themselves, and him.

But that's when two fateful things happened. The first was when Malcolm threw himself forward into the gap on Aiden's left side, hefting his large shield in one hand, the spear in the other. The spear was useless at this point, but Malcolm either didn't know that, or just plain forgot to drop it and switch weapons. Either way, Aiden was just glad to have someone there. The boy blocked the Firbolg's sword with his shield, seemingly by accident, and used his own considerable size to keep the Firbolg at bay. He was almost straddling the fallen man-at-arms, who was now trying to crawl behind the Paladin and get back on his feet. Somehow, Malcolm's strength and balance made the whole maneuver, as dangerous as it could have been, look easy.

The second was when Aiden heard a strangely familiar voice shouting behind him to make room. Aiden chanced a glance behind him and saw a ragged-looking Wizard moving through the cramped mass of Albs in the back, with the posture and grace of someone familiar to situations like this. Aiden's eyes grew wide as he recognized another old face from his past - the Warhound Wizard named Landon, who smiled when he saw Aiden in front of him. Landon deftly moved between the armored men around him and stood just behind the Armsman.

"Duck." That was all he said.

"Get down!" Aiden yelled as he crouched, holding his shield up to cover his head. Bright blue light suddenly flashed out above him in waves, and Aiden felt the air around him grow instantly cold. Landon's magic was designed to emanate from his own body, pulsing outward as a powerful defense mechanism. The magic froze living skin, causing incredible pain, and even though it only hit those he deemed as enemies, Aiden never liked being too close - just in case Landon made a mistake, or got careless. The Hibs in the front lines screamed out in pain, patches of their skin hardening and turning blue. They started falling back, front lines pushing on back lines, trying to escape the stairwell and the blasting cold. They retreated back down to the bottom level in a disorganized mess, but that wouldn't last long.

"Reform the lines!" Aiden stood up and watched the retreating Hibs cautiously. "Hurry!" The Hibs were already regrouping at the bottom of the stairs, fresh soldiers moving to the front while the injured ones moved back to let the Hibernian healers - which they called Druids - tend to them. Except that Hero. He just stood at the base of the steps, watching Aiden, and Landon, menacingly.

"I'm surprised to see you here." Landon said, behind him.

"Been a lot of surprises the last few days, Landon. You need to back up, though, because that entire army will be looking for you first when they get regrouped."

"Right." Landon slipped back behind the second line and waited amongst the archers in the back. Aiden saw that Malcolm was still next to him, and still holding that spear. Aiden shook his head and took it from him.

"Use your sword now." Malcolm nodded quickly and pulled his longsword from it's scabbard. He looked nervous, and Aiden want to calm him. "You're doing good." He said, and Malcolm nodded again.

The Hero roared his commands from below, still looking at Aiden like he'd just seen his next meal. The Hibernians began to rally around him, ready for another push, and Aiden hoped they had enough strength left to keep holding them back. Landon made things much easier, but they still couldn't hold off their numbers forever. If they stayed here in the stairwell, at some point they would get overrun and cut to pieces, so Aiden had to judge the strength of everyone around him, to make sure they could fall back before that happened. He looked at his fellow defenders in the stairwell, and he saw a group of Albs who were weary, bruised and scared. Their breath was heavy, and sweat poured from their faces, but Aiden could tell they had enough in them for more. He could judge a fighter, a true warrior, that had always been a gift of his, and he knew these men weren't ready to give up yet. Even Sergeant Alder, who stood behind him and to his right, looked eager for a fight, his eyes wild and a small hint of satisfaction on his face.

Suddenly a horn sounded outside the tower and the Hibernians stopped in confusion, peering behind them. It took only seconds for them to notice something amiss, and they quickly retreated from the stairwell and ran back out the tower door. Aiden could hear shouting, blades clashing together, and the whine of powerful magic outside and he cautiously stepped down to the base of the stairwell to find an empty bottom floor. The doors were cracked open, damaged beyond any kind of quick repair, which meant there was no point closing them or even barricading them. The sounds of combat were louder now, so Aiden moved to the open door, holding his hand up to keep everyone else back, and peered out from inside the tower.

What he saw outside was chaos. The forces of Midgard were here now, streaming out of the forest behind the Hib lines, and also veering east, toward the bridge that led to Benowyc. They must have been in the area and caught wind of the Hib attack, deciding to take advantage by attacking the smaller Hibernian tower force first. The horn had been a Hib trying to warn their allies at the keep that a new enemy was on the field, because now more Hibernians were charging across the bridge far in the distance to meet the incoming Mid forces. In the field just outside the tower Firbolgs, Elves, Lurikeens and Celts were fighting Trolls, Norsemen, Dwarves and Kobolds, all for the right to eventually wipe out the small force of Albion soldiers defending this tower.

"Mids are attacking!" Aiden heard Finias' voice and turned to see the Scout coming down the stairs with Kat over his shoulder. They were both bleeding from head wounds, and Kat was unconscious.

"What happened?" Malcolm rushed over and they laid her down on the steps, Riordann leaned over to take a look at her wound.

"The roof exploded." Finias replied. "She got hit."

Riordann ran his hands through Kat's blood-matted hair, examining her head. "It's fixable." He said finally. "But not here." He turned to look at Aiden, who quickly understood.

"What does that mean?" Malcolm, who had held up well in the shield wall, was now losing his temper. "What do you mean not here?"

"Carry her." Aiden told Malcolm. "We'll heal her somewhere else. We're leaving this tower."

"What? Why?" Sergeant Alder stepped forward. "We held them off. We can do it again until reinforcements come."

"No, we can't. No matter who wins that fight outside, they'll still outnumber us five to one. Probably more. And any reinforcements that manage to get out here will be going to the keep, not this tower." Aiden glanced back outside, gauging distances to the treeline. "If we don't leave now, we're dead."

Silence throughout the room seemed to affirm Aiden's assessment.

Alder stepped up next to Aiden, looking outside carefully. "Then how do we escape with two armies fighting right outside?"

"We pray." Aiden said calmly. "Then we run."

A chorus of silent, curt nods followed, and Aiden knew there was no time left to waste. Malcolm lifted his sister into his arms while Finias held out his bow, an arrow already knocked. Riordann and Landon, longtime veterans of these wars, stood together and shared a knowing look. Sergeant Alder rallied his men behind him, men-at-arms and archers, some injured, some exhausted, but none ready to give up. And Aiden stood in front of them all, ready to lead them out to safety. He thought back to two days ago, to a time just before finding that Thane on the road outside Humberton, before meeting Finias and then finding Riordann outside his door. He'd been convinced then that this life was over, that his time in battle had come and gone. Yet here he stood, standing in a broken tower, with a small group of defenders looking to him for leadership, looking to him to keep them alive. He didn't understand how he'd gotten here, but he was glad he was, even with the specter of death looming over them. This was what he was. This was what he lived for. He had his second chance now, he truly believed that, and he wasn't going to let anyone who was counting on him down. Not now, not ever.

"We'll swing around the left side of the tower and go south, into the trees behind us. If we get split up, we rally on the far side of the woods, at the other end of the plateau." He paused. "Hopefully all of us."

Everyone nodded in agreement. Aiden held up his battered shield, sheathed his sword, and grabbed his lucky goblin spear. One day, he'd have to replace it with something a little sturdier and sharper, but not today. Today, he wanted something in his hands he trusted, and felt comfortable with, and the spear - the symbol of an Armsman - would do just that. He patted his thigh, rapping the armor loudly, and Bastion emerged from behind the legs of the nearby men-at-arms, tail wagging, completely unaware of what he was about to get himself into.

"Let's go." He said to the dog, and charged out the door into the fray.