There came an angry shout and King Marcus turned to plunge his blade into a xalik attacking from behind. Its sharp pincers snapped at him as he pulled his blade from the thin black body. It fell and quickly he drew his mace to crush the pincers that would continue to snap although this creature was dead. He had been on this battle field for almost a year now, seen every foe imaginable, and it sickened him to see magic used in this way.

There were xaliks in his kingdom. Thin and hard, their black scaled bodies would reflect sunlight in patterns of iridescence, their pincers were used to tend guardians. But the sun never shone on them here. Without them they just looked dark and menacing. It pained him to know that, like many of the other creatures here, this was the only time these soldiers would meet them, in death and war.

He heard a familiar whistle and turned to see Philip, half covered in the blood of a sprite, waving him towards the frontline. Marcus turned, and saw through gritty air, the rise of stone they fought against. Upon it the King of Aberlese fought a continuous onslaught of enemy forces who were pushing him further and further back behind their lines.

Marcus swore viciously, and followed Philip as he sprinted toward the rock, cutting down creatures in his way. Marcus briefly looked for Eric, wondering why he was not with his king, wondering if perhaps he had already fallen. As they pushed forward the enemy fell away before them, almost as if they wanted them to reach the front, and Marcus grew dark with concern.

There was a high crack of sound that jolted in his chest, screeches from the enemy rose and suddenly, appearing above the black rock was the Enchantress herself, hovering above the place the king fought.

Marcus's heart fell with heavy dread.

Behind the place the king battled for survival, Eric watched in horror as the Enchantress descended. He had made a mistake, one simple mistake. He and the king had charged a group of black winged sprite, who fell easily beneath their swords. He realized now it was a distraction, a ploy, to get them separated from their men. He should have known. He had turned to fend off a red nymph and in that moment they had fallen on the king, pulling him back behind their lines, pushing Eric further and further away. He had fought, but there was nothing left to do, nothing left to win. The Enchantress was here, and she had his king.

Black air roiled and thick clouds slid like sludge down the mountain as she walked. Eric saw Marcus, saw Philip, clamoring against an enemy wall, trying to reach the king.

King Aberlese saw the thick black and felt the shivers race up his spine. He turned in the saddle, and stared at the coming figure. Her hair was long and white and flowing about an emerald gown that flowed in elegance. She was the most beautiful thing this king had ever seen, and by far the most terrifying. She smiled, and Aberlese thought of his people slaughtered, his daughter taken from him, his kingdom, and with a roar he charged the Enchantress, riding towards certain death. He heard shouts behind him, his son crying out, but he rode for his kingdom.

The Enchantress didn't even try. He plunged his blade deep into her belly, and for a moment stared directly into her eyes. Something withered and died inside as he looked into her eyes. Then with a flick of a wrist, she snapped his neck and with a wry chuckled she discarded his body on the ground.

"Now," She stepped over the dead king, her silk gown slipping across his lifeless eyes, "What have we here."

She looked to where King Marcus stood, one arm supporting Philip who had all but collapsed by his side, the other raised a sword to the line of enemies who stood awaiting her command. She had chosen this rock for a reason, every soldier here would have seen or soon heard of the king's demise. Fear and shock emanated from them in waves, and the Enchantress laughed, making sure her voice carried.

"King Marcus, " she addressed the man, "And Prince Philip, or is it king now?." She cast an idle glance to the body of the king before sizing up the blond in front of her. "For too long have we battled. You have lost many forces, and I am growing bored. I suggest we end this feud, here. Now."

Her words passed over the fields of men, and all turned to watch.

"I will draw back my forces, and allow you and what is left of your men to leave quite in peace. I just require one tiny thing in return."

"And what's that," Marcus asked evenly.

"That you and your fellow king agree to a magic covenant, is all."

Marcus frowned. He was no stranger to magic covenants. In fact any agreement signed in his land was almost by default a magic covenant because of the energy that existed there. But he had heard of the covenants this Enchantress formed. While others signed covenants with various forms of punishment for breaking them, the Enchantress only wanted on thing; hearts. She built her covenants on the life's blood of those who entered into them.

"Never!" Philip roared, fighting suddenly to get at the woman, but Marcus shot out an arm, holding him back. He knew the grief that must be ripping through him after witnessing the death of his own father, but now was not the time. They must be smart about this. Their forces were over-run. There was no winning this war. He knew it, everyone knew it. This was a way his men at least could go home. This way the death stopped for today.

Yes it was making a deal with the Enchantress, but if what she asked was too egregious, they could always just choose death.

This way, only they had to die.

"Philip, consider." He spoke it lowly, and watched his friend begin to calm, watched the realization dawn that there was no other way. Watch his expression fall into hopeless defeat.

"We do this," his voice was thick and miserable, but laced with a burning anger, "And we have your covenant that you will leave our kingdoms and our people in peace?"

The Enchantress bowed, giving a charming smile. "Of course."

Prince Philip stood for a moment, staring at the form of his father, at the blood spattered on the earth around him, at the death that hung in the air.

"Then I will do it."

Marcus straightened behind him, "And I"

The Enchantress laughed, and it was a laugh that would haunt the men there until the end of their days. When death finally came for them they would say, "I believe we've met once."

With a twist of her hand, a bolt of ice clenched Philip's heart, and he staggered.

Slowly it receded and the Enchantress began to fade away.

"So it is done," She called, her voice floating as if on the wind. "One day I will collect my kings."

And she was gone. The next moment every sprite, every creature, shimmered and blinked from view. All that was left was to stare across a barren battlefield at what men they had left standing.


That evening Philip stood, silent tears shining in the light of the pyre as they saluted their king one last time. His mind was on everything and nothing and he stood, simply staring.

Behind him Marcus stood to the side, absentmindedly rubbing his chest. He could feel the foreign magic lurking inside, and he did not like it. He turned as Eric came up beside him.

"How is he?" the captain of the guard asked, nodding towards Philip, and Marcus shrugged

"He's as you would expect him to be."

Eric nodded, grief and guilt marking his expression. This was his fault, and he felt it bitterly to his core.

"Tell me you can break this covenant." His words were bitter but Marcus simply shook head.

"The only way to break a spell is with another spell cast by the same person."

Eric went to argue and Marcus silenced him with a look, "It's the only way."

They were silent for a time, watching the fire and the host of men standing guard one last time for their king.

"King Marcus, I heard a story once, from a gypsy, that those with magic can transfer curses."

Marcus glanced at him, surprised, "Sometimes they can."

Eric shifted, uncomfortable. "Well a heart covenant, that's sorta like a curse, right?"

Marcus nodded, "In some ways, yes. In fact I plan to transfer mine when I get home" He was uncertain why he had even shared that with Eric, but the captain looked at him eagerly,

"Could you transfer Philip's?"

Marcus shook his head, knowing the man would not understand. "Transferring a heart covenant does not stop its affect, it will still be bound to my life. I will transfer mine because I can feel its presence and I do not like carrying foreign magic within me. But when I pass it to an object, that object will not die if I do not meet my end of the covenant. I will. Transferring Philip's curse would do him no good. He can not feel it inside of him like I can."

"But what it wasn't to an object?" Eric asked, and Marcus stared at him. "What if you transferred it to another heart, one that could die?"

"What are you saying, Eric?" Marcus asked slowly.

"I want you to transfer his covenant to me."

Marcus was shaking his head in both disbelief and refusal, "You don't know what you're asking, Eric, and I'm not sure I even could. I can only transfer curses in some way connected to myself."

"But you were cursed together, isn't that a connection?" Eric persisted, his eyes earnest in the light of the fire.

"It may be," Marcus answered, the connection of magic was a funny thing, there may be enough there for him to act on, but should he? "Why do you wish to do this?" Marcus demanded, and Eric gaze dropped.

"I am tasked with serving the king, protecting him above all else, and I failed my last king. He was killed on my watch. I will not fail the next one."

"Philip doesn't blame you," The words were low but held a depth of sincerity, still Eric shook his head,

"Philip wouldn't blame a rooster for crowing. I am still responsible, and if it is possible, I am asking to do this. I am enlisting your aide in saving my king and our friend."

Marcus sighed, "We should discuss this with Philip,"

"No, " Eric cut him off, "You know what he will say, he can not know until it is done."

For a moment Marcus looked to the place Philip stood, mourning the loss of a father, facing becoming the next ruler of a kingdom. He remembered how overwhelming that had been. Slowly he turned back to Eric.

"If this is to work, I can begin the transference spell, and if the connection between our curses is enough, it can take residence in you, but for you to take ownership, you will have to make your own pledge to the covenant."

Eric was nodding solemnly.

"It may not even work." Marcus warned, and Eric wouldn't be deterred,

"We have to try."


That night as Philip tossed in a fitful sleep, two shadows stood outside his tent. The larger shadow shifted, a subtle change in his stance that put the other on edge, and his eyes flashed in the dark.

The second man covered his curse of surprise as low words began in a tongue he had never heard. Then a sudden ice clenched his heart, and Eric doubled over. Instinctively he wanted to shut it out, to refuse this energy in side of him, but he forced himself to calm, to take a silent oath in his heart to exchange the price of his life to keep his King safe.