Author's Note: So, apparently, when I said "a few days" in my last update, I meant "several months." Sorry about that.


Kent allowed his horse to slow down as he entered the mountain pass; after all, the poor beast hadn't had a break since they left Hector's camp early that morning, before most of the troop was even awake. The sun was beginning to sink now; Kent estimated it was four, maybe five in the evening. Still, he was almost there. Even at a relaxed pace, he would arrive at the village in half an hour, and could spend the rest of the day searching for Heath and Florina.

He leaned down and patted his horse, encouraging it softly to keep going. Inside, he felt a small sense of urgency, especially given how many things could go wrong on this journey. Heath and Florina might be in too poor condition to travel. And that was assuming Kent could find them in the village; they might have gotten separated, missed the village altogether, or perhaps even died up on the mountains. The morale of the entire troop—not to mention Lady Lyndis and Dame Fiora—was hinging on his success, and if he had to come back and tell the others that Heath and Florina were dead...

He gave his horse another pat. Despite the sense of urgency, he somehow felt confident that he would be able to find them. He had become a good friend of Heath's in the short time since the wyvern rider joined them, and he had known Florina for well over a year. He knew they were both capable fighters, and would take good care of each other if they were together—and would waste no time searching for each other if they weren't. Florina may be shy around men, he thought, but she can overcome that when she has to. He allowed himself a smirk. Perhaps what Sain said was true; maybe they actually are enjoying-

A small noise was all the warning Kent had, but it was all he needed. The sound of a pebble rolling down the side of the ravine alerted him to the man's presence. He instinctively sped up his horse, and the man leaped from his hiding place a moment too late, missing Kent by a hair's breadth. But the attacker took only a moment to recover from his failed lunge, and was soon sprinting after the knight at amazing speed.

A quick glance over his shoulder told Kent that he would be able to escape—fast though the man was, he wouldn't be able to keep up with the horse for long—but to do so would require a huge effort on the part of his horse, and open his back up to attacks from the deadly throwing ax the man carried in addition to the sword he held in his hands. Still, he had to risk it. This man was muscular, heavily armored, and had an intense flame in his eyes that told Kent this would not end quickly. The knight spurred his horse forward, dashing toward the end of the ravine. The horse put nearly all its strength into the sprint, but it was working; they were quickly drawing out of range.

But it wasn't quick enough. As his quarry dashed away, the man grabbed his tomahawk and threw it with all the force he could muster. The ax hit neither Kent nor his steed, but it managed to embed itself in the ground directly in the horse's path—right where it would trip on it. Before Kent realized what was happening, he was on the ground, rolling away from the sliding mass of horse coming toward him. The man let out a triumphant cry as he ran forward, ignoring the ax that had tripped the horse in favor of the sword already in his hand.

Kent barely had time to right himself and bring up his own weapon before his antagonist's blade sliced down at him. Steel rang on steel as Kent blocked the blow. He found himself using all his strength in both his arms to hold the sword away from his head as the man leaned heavily on his weapon, using his weight to drive the sharp edge down. Kent lifted his eyes and found himself looking into the fiery gaze of a tall, red-headed man. The antagonist met Kent's look, and sneered at him. "My brother!" he spat. "My own flesh and blood! You impudent-!"

Kent didn't understand what the man was saying, and for the moment, he couldn't afford to care. He shut his eyes, channeling all his strength into his arms, and with a loud cry and superhuman effort, shoved his sword upward. The man lost his balance and toppled backward; Kent quickly stood, wielding his sword in preparation for another attack.

It only took the man an instant to regain his footing; he soon stood with his mighty broadsword, glaring at Kent with the same passionate hatred. "I will avenge my brother," he said, "If it means hunting down each member of your army one by one! And I promise, I'll start with you!"

It took Kent a moment to realize what this man was saying. His brother had been killed by Hector's group, and the man had recognized Kent as a member of that army, probably by the armor he wore. But Kent still didn't know who the man was. When he finally figured it out, his eyes widened in fear.

His brother? Could he mean Lloyd?

That means he's...

Linus of the Four Fangs didn't give Kent time to finish his thought; the mighty assassin charged again, his broadsword forming a deadly arc through the air. Kent leaped to one side, letting the behemoth of a man go right past him. The knight gave his sword a clumsy swing as he dodged, but missed his foe completely. Kent quickly spun around to try again, but the assassin was already charging him again. Despite his muscular build, he was fast. Almost too fast, considering how much power he was packing into each blow as well; it was incredible, almost superhuman.

Anger, he thought to himself. He's being spurred on by grief at his brother's death.

Kent had taken no part in the killing of Lloyd, not that Linus would care even if he knew. The knight could barely remember it now; what stood out most about that battle was the realization that Heath and Florina could not be found afterwards. Who had taken Lloyd down, anyway? Now that Kent thought of it, it must have been...

The sound of an blade rushing through the air put an end to the wanderings of Kent's mind. He barely managed to sidestep again. This time, though, Linus had expected it, and redirected his sword in mid-charge, aiming at where he expected the knight to be. Kent did his best to compensate, but a sudden, shooting pain in his right arm informed him that he hadn't quite avoided the strike. He didn't even have to look at the gash to know it was bleeding. If he could patch it up, then it wouldn't be a problem, but he didn't expect Linus to wait there while he began treating his wound.

Linus rushed forward again, swinging his sword in a wide arc in front of him. Kent knew he wouldn't be able to dodge; instead, he raised his sword to parry the blow. The force of the two blades meeting sent a shuddering force through Kent's body, and he was pushed back a few feet, dirt building up against the heels of his boots as they dug into the ground—but he held firm. The two blades were once again locked together, the antagonists glaring at each other over them. This time, though, Linus didn't have the advantage of being on top, and Kent was planing to make it so that he'd need every advantage he could get.

Before Linus knew what was going on, Kent had slipped his blade out of the lock and spun deftly to one side; the assassin stumbled forward, no longer having his antagonist to lean against. Kent followed through with a nimble strike to his opponent's back. It bounced off of Linus's armor, but gave such a loud clang and satisfying impact that it sent Linus to the ground. But the assassin didn't remain prone for long, deftly rolling through his fall and landing neatly on his feet. No sooner did he turn, though, than he had to bring up his blade to block another strike. Kent came after him again, steel ringing on steel. Linus's boots dug into the stony earth and he held his ground, but he never got a chance to attack himself, he was so busy parrying Kent's strikes.

The knight knew this was his only advantage: his speed. He had to keep the assassin on his toes, trying to guess where the next blow would come from. If Linus got a chance to attack, at these close quarters he could easily slay Kent in a single blow. The only way Kent could survive now was to ensure he never got that chance.

Then—

Kent wasn't sure of exactly what happened. He had struck once more, but when the blades met there was extra power in his opponent's arm, and Kent's whole body shuddered under the force, slightly stunned by the power of the impact. Before he could recover, he felt something against his chest—the sole of Linus's boot? He would never be sure—and we was suddenly on the ground. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Linus was already on top of him, planting his foot on the knight's chest, shoving him back down and knocking what little breath there was out of him. Kent could only look up at Linus as the assassin lifted his blade in the air, the evening sun silhouetting his face and rendering his triumphant leer invisible.

In the next instant, an earth-shattering cry split the air. Linus quickly spun around, looking for the source, and barely had time to realize that there was a man bounding down the side of the pass toward him at impossible speed before he had to lift his blade to parry the man's colossal ax.

Kent had recovered by now, and though he was as confused as Linus about the newcomer, he was still clear-minded enough to seize advantage of the situation and roll away from the two powerhouses. The newcomer was as big as Linus, possibly bigger. His clothes—the rugged garb of a mountain-dweller—barely fit his sinewy frame, and though his ax was unbelievably large, he hefted it with ease. Nevertheless, he could only just hold his own against the highly trained, grief-driven, and now desperate Linus—which was why Kent ran back into battle as soon as he was on his feet.

Linus dove for his neglected tomahawk when he saw Kent returning, so that at least he'd have two weapons to fight two foes. But for all the good it did, he might as well not have bothered. He was on the defensive again, too busy parrying strikes to make an attack of his own, only this time, he had two blades swinging closer and closer to him, and only one arm to defend against each. Kent and the mysterious newcomer slowly drove him further and further back, pressing him toward the side of the ravine, until, at last, he was trapped. Kent lifted his blade to deliver one last blow.

Then there was a loud noise, a tremble in the ground, and Kent could see nothing but dust.

He worked his way out of the cloud, feeling with his injured right arm and choking on the dust until his vision cleared. He turned around to see the mountaineer emerging from the cloud in a similar fashion, his eyes tearing up as the dust stung them. The dust had settled back down in a moment, but when it did, there was no sign of Linus.

Before Kent could say anything, the newcomer shook his head. "Don't bother lookin' for him. He'll be long gone by now."

Kent nodded somberly. "So strange," he said. "He attacked me in full fighting fury, driven by grief and anger over his brother's death. But when we put him on the defensive for so long, when he realized there was a chance he could lose..." he cast his eyes down. "I suppose there's nothing better than mortal danger for helping to clear one's mind."

The mountaineer studied the knight for a moment. "Was... was that who I think it was?"

Kent looked back at him. "If you mean Linus," he replied, "Then yes. It was he."

The man shivered. "Then... his brother is really...?"

Kent only nodded.

The man put a hand to his head. "My God... then that means... wow..."

Kent pursed his lips. "You'll forgive my asking," he said curtly, "But who are you, and why did you help me?"

"Ah!" the man said, looking back at him. "Sorry. My name's Romul. I was just out for a walk when I heard the sounds of battle, and when I came to investigate and saw Linus above you about to chop your head off, well... what was I supposed to do?"

Kent relaxed slightly. "Nothing other than what you did," he said, "For which I am grateful."

The mountaineer smiled. "That be good to hear, sir," he said. "Romul's always happy to help out. I assume from the direction you came from that you be headin' toward the village to the south, right?"

"Indeed," Kent answered promptly.

"Well then," the man said, "I think it be best that we travel together. This mountain pass ain't always the safest place, even for a knight of..." he studied Kent's emblem for a moment. "Caelin?"

Kent nodded, somewhat surprised with the man's familiarity with the house's symbol.

"Besides," the mountaineer went on, "I just happen to be headin' that way myself. What do you think, sir...?"

"Kent," the knight answered. "And I see no reason why not. It is good to make your acquaintance, Romul."

Romul's smile broadened. "Likewise, sir Kent! Give me a moment to gather my things, and I'll be right with you."

Before Kent could say anything, the man had disappeared around some rocks. He sighed and leaned against his horse. Romul seemed nice enough, but there was something about him that Kent didn't trust. Having the mountaineer by his side would be reassuring when completing the journey, especially after the attack from Linus had drained so much of his energy, but he decided to keep his guard up, especially where the newcomer was involved.

"Romul!" a voice hissed. "Over here!"

Romul slipped over to where his friend hid. "Rem?" he whispered.

"Yeah."

"What'd the boss say?"

"He commends you for handlin' Linus so well, but also demands that next time, you find him first and tell him what you're up to."

"We tried! We looked all over the bloody fortress for him. We were runnin' out of time; I had to do somethin'! You know that!"

"Of course I do!" Rem hissed. "But the boss don't. I tried tellin' him, but he won't listen."

Romul sighed. "Fine," he whispered. "What else did he say?"

"Continue with the knight," Rem said. "Make sure he gets safely to the village. Once you're there, be careful, because if he meets up with the two riders, they're bound to recognize you. You'd best get out of there before that happens."

"I'll try," Romul replied. He hesitated a moment before asking, "Hey, Rem?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did he save Linus?"

"Why does he do anythin'?" Rem answered. He shook his head. "He said it wasn't time yet, or somethin'. How the bloody hell should I know, anyway?"

Romul sighed. "Sorry. I just hoped that, for once, he'd let us know what's goin' on."

"That'll be the day," Rem replied. "Good luck, Romul."

"Thanks," Romul said. "Tell the master that I won't let him down."

"I hope not," Rem replied, before slipping back into one of the Drakoon Fortress's many hidden entrances.

Romul took a deep breath before turning around and going back to the pass where Kent was waiting. Kent peered closely at the approaching mountaineer; as far as he could tell, he hadn't "gathered" any more things than he had when he left. Still, he hid his suspicions; he didn't want a man of that size and strength to know that he didn't trust him. "All set?" he called. "I hope to get into the village before long."

"I won't hold you up too much, sir," Romul replied, smiling broadly. "I can move through these passes as fast as anyone. We're not that far away, either. We ought to be there within the hour."

"Excellent," Kent said, returning the man's smile as he mounted his horse and started once again toward the south, his mysterious new companion leading the way.