Chapter Two The Black Knight

To the southwest of Lodoss lies the island of Marmo. The final battle of the War of the Gods, in which Marfa and Kardis died giving birth to the cursed land, split off Marmo as well. The deathbed where Kardis's body sleeps, it alone was un-cleansed by Marfa's life.

Nor was the Goddess of Destruction the only force that made Marmo what should have been a no-mans-land. In the catacombs beneath Castle Conquera slept Narse, the black dragon, one of five Ancient dragons who had survived the War of the Gods. For the first time in millennia, he stirred.

Above, in the castle's throne room, a massive, red-haired man's eyes snapped open simultaneously with the dragon's.

Below, Narse's forked tail rose, only to slam back down spastically, shattering a small amount of rock.

In the throne room, Beld, the red-haired King of Marmo, rose to his feet. "It is time." Easily six and a half feet tall, Beld was a gigantic figure of a man, every inch tightly bound in corded muscle that bulged under his black, gold-traced armor and fur-trimmed black cloak.

At his side, Wagnard, the high priest of Falaris grinned. Tall and skinny, his pale skin stretched over his almost flesh-less face gave him the eerie visage of a re-animated corpse. His golden-embroidered robe of scarlet silk velvet did nothing to hide this. "At last..."

The other figure in the throne room could not have been a greater contrast. As tall as Beld, he lacked his over-whelming size. He didn't need it to fill the room. Still muscular, he wore gleaming black armor, the only decoration being the almost delicate tracings of gold across his torque. Pale where Beld was roughly tanned, his hair was a silky mane of black that fell to well past his shoulders. Whereas Beld radiated brute power and Wagnard evil, Ashram, the black knight and captain of the royal guards radiated a far more cultured menace; that of a reptile rather than a roaring tiger. "Highness."

Beld's hand crept downward to his great sword. "All of Lodoss will tremble under my feet." He unsheathed just an inch of the blade, letting a dark energy begin radiating from the sword named Soul Crusher. "By this sword, I so swear it."

Ashram's eyes widened at the blade. In all of his time as the royal general, he had never seen it unsheathed. Bathed in the blood of a demon king over thirty years ago, it was the single overwhelming symbol of who ruled this island. Falcon-like, his head swiveled to the side as a new presence registered on his finely-tuned senses.

"As it should."

Wagnard frowned at the lilting female voice with its strange echoes. "Who's there?"

She was tall and slender, easily six feet in height. Her pale skin accentuated her pale violet lipstick and eyes. She wore a long, simple garment in a deeper purple under a long black cloak. Her chief ornament was a circlet worn on her head; golden, inlaid with two small, spherical rubies and a single jade.

Karla, the grey witch, smiled as she gazed at the three. She gave Beld little time, Wagnard even less. Beld was a simple brute, Wagnard an oily sycophant and slave to his religion. Neither could ever be a threat to her great plans. Ashram...perhaps he could be used. If not, he had great potential for whatever he chose. "I have come to aid you, highness."

Beld gave her a strange look, but that was all. The laws of Marmo were quite simple. Obey the strong and you wouldn't be killed. She would be spared so long as she earned that right.

--------

Farther northeast, two humans, a dwarf, and a dark elf were currently stopping for a rest. Slayn was resting, his back against a tree as he read one of his various magic books. Etoh was standing back to watch as Ghim and Trent had a sparring match.

"HYAH!"

CLANG!

SHRANG!

Etoh was not what you'd consider much of a fighter. Oh, between his clerical magic and his mace he could generally defend himself well enough, but he was no real warrior or soldier. Even so, it was blatantly obvious that the elf and the dwarf were fighting in two wildly different styles.

Ghim he likened to a bear that was defending a cave or something; he wasn't really moving, just waiting for opportunities to pivot and slash, going neither back or forward. Trent's style on the other hand seemed to be nothing but motion; where Ghim parried and blocked, Trent dodged or lightly deflected. Trent's attacks were always quick and fast; charging slashes and thrusts, but mainly slashes and slicing attacks.

Even so, Ghim was better. Elves live longer than dwarves, but Ghim was late in his prime and Trent was young by his standards. Ghim was clearly the more experienced and the stronger, while Trent suffered from a disadvantage only too common to elves; he lacked serious strength and endurance. His brutal training years ago under his father made him nearly super-human compared to other elves, but that still wasn't enough; he could outlast some humans, but not this rock named Ghim.

His next charge brought him close enough for serious work, as Ghim used the gap between his two axe blades to catch Trent's katana blade, using a twist to try and wrench it out of his hands. Trent leapt and moved with the motion, drawing his sword out from the grip as he rolled. "You know, for a dwarf you're an exceptionally versatile fighter."

Ghim snorted in disdain. Culturally, dwarves and elves pretty much hate each other. Still, the kid was good enough to earn his respect. "And for an elf, you've got seem decent power. Not bad at all."

Trent grinned sardonically as he sheathed his blade. He'd never admit it, but he kind of like the grumbly, irreverent dwarf. Even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes, but then again Trent probably was too.

--------

Nearby, a large stone fortress dropped the drawbridge as ten or so horsemen thundered out, yelling at the top of their lungs.

"Don't let any of those beasts escape!"

"Yes Sir!"

--------

Following their little bout, Trent had decided to go off on his own for a bit. If nothing else, Alania's a beautiful country, he idly thought as he hopped into a nearby tree. One of the biggest problems between dwarves and elves was elemental alignment. Elves were creatures of the air, while dwarves of the earth. High elves were of light, while dark elves and dwarves preferred darkness. As such, while Ghim liked the rock and dirt, Trent vastly preferred someplace where he could hear the wind and rain and feel the air.

Settling himself into the crook of a large branch, he slipped out his flute again. It was hardly a beautiful instrument; just carved bamboo reed stained a darker brown in streaks. The little magic and such he knew that wasn't combat-oriented had gone almost totally towards the instrument; it was stronger than most steel alloys and had a mystical beacon tuned to his own personal energies; he could never lose it. He didn't realize it, but his constant playing on the instrument had resulted in something he'd never expected. It responded now to his empathic states, projecting what he felt to a small degree. When he was sad or in a dark mood, the music could turn others towards that. His happiness could cheer people up; his anger could inspire battle. Just sheer-bloody-mindedness and constant use had made him a very low-level bard.

He leaned into the bark of the tree as he began to play. It was an old song that he had often piped, one that he'd learned while still in his cradle. It was neither long nor particularly difficult, nor even that impressive in terms of just the notes. Still, something happened as he played the slow, constantly moving, mournful notes. It went on like that for several minutes; when he played, Trent lost himself to the sound. Nothing else could penetrate until he was done. Still, he drew to a close.

"That was beautiful."

Trent's eyes snapped open at the voice. They widened even further at the sight of a high elf maiden sitting a few branches away. Something about her tugged at his memory. "You're that elf I met outside the goblins' caves. The one who warned me about Zaxom coming under attack."

Deedlit smiled and nodded. "I saw your battle. It's not every day that I meet dark elves who selflessly protect young human girls."

Trent allowed himself to relax. Most dark elves got along horribly with the other sub-races of their kind. The fact that this young slip of a maiden was being so nice to him was damn near a miracle. "Thank you."

Deed blinked in surprise. "Thank me?"

"I wanted to thank you for that warning. I probably would have kept hunting for those goblins in the woods if you hadn't; I doubt I would have been there in time to help without you."

He blinked in surprise as she laughed happily. It wasn't a rude or contemptuous sound, just genuine happiness. Yet another rare happening with a high elf. "Well, aren't you polite."

Trent allowed himself a similar smile. He didn't mind humans, but he didn't understand them in the least. It was nice to be around her. His smile unfortunately didn't last as his senses picked up an unwelcome presence. Proud, skilled, powerful, and arrogant to the point of self- endangerment; oh, he recognized that all too well. He leapt out of the branches, slipping away his flute as he loosened his sword.

Loping along the ground were about seven kobolds. They resembled were- wolves to a small extent; the vaguely human-shaped bodies were topped with dog-like heads, their entire bodies covered in creamy gray fur. The only difference was that they lacked the stature and raw power of a true Were- beast, and were a lot easier to control. That, and they wore the livery of Marmo soldiers.

Trent dropped out of the ground in front of them. "Where do you think you're going?"

The seven of them snarled in answer. They didn't really have a language per se, more a kind of pack mind. Deed faded into sight next to him. "Impetuous aren't you?"

Trent grinned as they charged him. Snapping out his short-sword, he very quickly killed two of them, leaping out of the melee just as quickly. "Just good enough." He slammed his pommel into another's chin as the one who had chosen to attack the elf-girl found out the hard and unpleasant way that she was an expert swords woman with her rapier. "Listen, I sensed a dark elf somewhere, the one leading this little knot. See if you can't find and deal with him. I'll get rid of them."

Deedlit gave him a shocked look. "Another dark elf?"

As if in answer to her words, two slender throwing daggers shot out from the trees towards her. She deflected both, catching sight of him. Dressed in black and wearing a violet cloak, he hardly blended into the forest.

She leapt into the air, fading in and out of the greenery as she tried to track him down. She gasped, barely managing to dodge another throwing knife. As it was, she suffered a small, superficial cut on her left arm.

Below, another Kobold had been killed before Deed faded back into sight next to Trent. He grimaced sympathetically at her wound. "You OK?"

Deed didn't bother to answer; it only stung. "He's a strong one. I don't much fancy it, but if we don't run..." She winced as the dark elf faded into sight. "Too late now."

His eyes widened as he saw Trent. "Well, well, well. The infamous Shadowlight." He grinned. "I'm sure to be rewarded for your death."

Deed looked at him curiously. "Shadowlight?"

He was spared the need to explain by Etoh's mace stabbing into the ground before them. The dark elf drew back, hissing (mocking of Bela Lugosi) at the sight of the holy artifact.

Ghim hefted his axe grimly as he charged towards Trent and Deed. "So, why didn't you invite us to playtime?"

Deed looked at him in disgust. "And I suppose this looks like play to a dwarf?"

"Hunh! I suppose Kobolds do make for pretty poor playmates."

At that moment, The dark elf frowned, glancing to the side, before fading away. The kobolds chose a slightly less dramatic exit, loping further into the undergrowth.

Etoh blinked in confusion. "Why'd they just run off?"

Trent jerked a thumb to the side. "Alanian soldiers," he said, somehow managing to keep from spitting the word.

--------

CLANG!

Etoh stared in shock at the dungeon gate. He hadn't the slightest idea why, but the soldiers had chosen after escorting them into Fortress Myce to toss them unceremoniously into the brig. "Hey, we're just travelers! We have nothing to do with those other goblins!"

"We'll decide that after the Captain returns. Until then, cool your heels."

"Save your breath," came a tired reply.

"Who's there?" asked Ghim.

Slayn relaxed as he took in the man's battered appearance. Looking to be somewhere between his late twenties and thirties, he seemed as though dungeons were something he was familiar with. Long, tangled black hair hung down to his shoulders, a strip of red cloth a half-hearted attempt to keep it under control. His rough, tanned face was adorned by a long scar along the temple and an X-shaped one on his chin. He was dressed in pale blue hose and a black shirt, a battered chest-plate of leather armor covering his torso. "Scream all you like, they won't do a thing until their commander gets back."

Ghim snorted. "A thief, by the looks of him."

The thief (Ghim's assumption being accurate) grinned. "Looks are pretty much equal down here."

"Don't assume that we're like you," Deed barked at him.

At the sound of the female voice, he levered himself up slightly for a better look. "Well as I live and breathe, a lovely little elf wench!"

Deedlit frowned irritably at the 'wench' comment, but refrained from speaking. Slayn calmly sat down. "I'm sure that when the captain gets back, he'll see that this was all a simple misunderstanding."

--------

Ashram frowned at the dark elf reporting to him. "Strangers you say?"

The elf nodded. "They have been taken to fortress Myce."

"Fortress Myce..."

"You are not to overlook the slightest pebble which may impede Lord Beld's advance," Karla's voice rang out. "Is that not your primary duty as captain of the royal guards?"

Ashram gave her a cold look. "It goes without saying."

Reading the unspoken comments, the dark elf spoke up. "One of them is a dark elf unaligned with Marmo. He is...something of a criminal to my people. If possible, I would like to be the one who kills him."

Ashram dismissed it. "Kill him if you find him. If someone else does first, then it is of little consequence."

Karla's mysterious smile finally seemed to reach her eyes. The elf would live, and she would later have many uses for him.

--------

To the southeast marched the main armies of Marmo, a vast horde of goblins, mercenaries, ogres, kobolds, and god only knows what else. Wagnard smiled evilly as he gazed across the hillsides of the lush country before them. Far in the distance stood a large, bustling city overlooking a gigantic fresh water lake. The city spread across the ground, the center a large hill dominated by an ornate palace. "With the conquest of Shining Hill, all of the East of Lodoss will be yours," he said as he drew his horse next to the Emperor Beld's. "May the divine protection of Falaris be with us."

Beld spared a moment of thought then snorted in contempt. "His help will not be needed. With this sword, I will take back the power long denied Falaris." He drew the great sword Soul Crusher, and stabbed it towards Shining Hill in a gesture of command.

War had begun.

--------

Sparing a glance at the progress Etoh was having at healing the slight wound on Deedlit's arm, Trent turned back towards the thief. "So 'Woodchuck,' what happened to you? Why are you in here?"

The thief laughed to himself from his nook filled with straw. "Guess you could say that I had a bit of a run of bad luck. Alania's in for a run of bad luck herself. So I decided that I'd put together my own little war chest and head off for another country." He sighed. "Guess Falis just wasn't looking out for me this time."

"Falis doesn't grant his protection to thieves," Etoh replied automatically, not bothering to look up from his healing.

Woodchuck snorted in disdain. "Oh, so Falis is protecting Kannon and Alania with all his might?"

Trent frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Woodchuck's eyes widened slightly as he sat up. "You didn't know? Troops from Marmo have landed." Ignoring the sudden snapping open of Ghim and Slayn's eyes, he continued blithely. "It's because the troops of Kannon are even more pathetic than Alania's. Both countries are full of smart guys who couldn't give a rat's ass about the military, so I thought I'd try Valis this time."

"Valis?" Trent asked absently, his thoughts to the dark elf who'd recognized him.

Woodchuck gave him a conspiratorial look. "Yep. You want the strongest knights in all the land...you head for Valis."

They stopped their conversation as they heard the door to the dungeon jangle open. Walking down the steps was the erstwhile 'Captain.' Tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered, his blond hair and mustache were impeccably trimmed as befit a military man. "Are these the Marmo spies you captured?"

"Yes Sir!"

"Spies?!" Deed sputtered. "Us?"

"Can't say I blame them, considering that I'm with you," Trent said from the shadows. "Sorry about that."

Capt. Jebra snorted disdainfully. "Light!"

As the torchlight finally revealed them, Jebra's eyes widened in shock at the sight of Etoh. "What?! You?!"

Etoh blink-blinked in shock at him. "Eh?"

Jebra leaned forward. "Lauma Adonia Moil de Falis?"

Etoh smiled as recognition dawned. "Moiros Lam," he replied in old Kastuulian.

Jebra's eyes widened even further. "Then you really are a priest of Falis." He stepped back, bowing deeply. "My humble apologies for this retched treatment."

Etoh blinked in shock again, then smiled. Hey, it got them out.

--------

In Jebra's room in the fortress's Keep, he continued his profuse apologies.

Etoh genially waved a hand. "It was an honest misunderstanding. Don't feel bad about it."

Slayn looked at Jebra. "Woodchuck mentioned that troops from Marmo had landed. Is there any truth to that?"

Jebra frowned in thought. "Woodchuck? Oh, that thief." He sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. If war does come to Alania, we're the first line of defense."

Deed turned to Trent curiously. "That dark elf leading the Kobolds we saw called you Shadowlight. What did he mean?"

Jebra's eyes widened. "The Shadowlight? You?!"

Trent didn't bother to open his eyes. "I was unaware of that many humans who knew."

Jebra swallowed nervously. "I...have heard your reputation. A dark elf we captured a long time ago said something about you."

Slayn frowned. "What's going on?"

Trent stretched out lazily. "It's between me and the rest of the Dark Elf society, so don't worry. I'm a wanted criminal to them, for the deaths of a few high-ranking war party leaders and such."

From below a window came a call. "Capt. Jebra!"

Jebra gave Trent an odd look, but crossed to look out his window. "What is it?"

"We're ready for your inspections!"

Jebra nodded then gestured for them to proceed him.

In the courtyard below, they found two of the soldiers going at it, each armed with a breastplate, broadsword, and buckler. Jebra smiled proudly. "What do you think of them?" As the two fought, Jebra continued his own thoughts. "Alania has always valued knowledge over strength. For men who are too strong, it's not easy to live here. This fortress and others like it are places for those who can't live anywhere else."

"Keeping all the violent men in one place?" Deed quipped, smiling.

"Deed..." Etoh began.

Jebra simply laughed at her. "There's no need for that." The match ended abruptly as one of the two soldiers managed to knock the broadsword out of his opponent's hand.

Jebra turned a piercing eye towards Trent. "Care for a quick match?"

Trent gave him a similar look, though far colder. "I'd rather not. My experiences with the Alanian military are not ones I enjoyed."

Jebra's stare turned curious. "Come, I need some exercise once in a while, and none of my men are good enough."

Trent sighed, shaking his head. Wordlessly, he unsheathed his katana, his long dagger in his left hand instead of a shield. Jebra chose the buckler and his broadsword, not bothering with a breastplate.

Trent bowed formally to his opponent's salute, then took up a relaxed stance with his hands to either side of him. As Jebra attacked, he leapt backwards, dodging the slashes and thrusts, occasionally counter-attacking with short cuts.

Deed frowned. She'd seen that particular style before but...her eyes widened in shock. He's a...

The match ended abruptly. Jebra's next attack proved a savage sideways slash. Trent bent to the side, then shot forward. He stopped a few feet away, the tip of his saber a bare inch away from the Captain's throat. After a few seconds of holding, he pulled back the weapon. "You're quite good. Try relying more on your sword rather than your shield though."

Jebra gave him a piercing look, though thankfully not malicious. "I'll consider it. You deserve your reputation...assassin," he whispered the last.

--------

That night, little happened for a time. A young sentry on the top of the southern wall yawned tiredly as for the moment, things remained peaceful. Abruptly, some kind of unseen force struck him. It was frightening to watch, as he seemed to be boiled alive from the inside, his body purpling and bursting in steam, only to shrivel in a second.

Within her room, Deedlit's eyes shot open as she sat up in bed. Jebra had chosen to give her a separate room from the rest of the travelers (he was quite chivalrous for a human), but at the moment it was proving to be rather irritating. She burst into Slayn's quarters, only to find him in a similar state of shocked unrest.

"I felt it too. It's as though some great power, frighteningly powerful magic has arisen."

Deed gasped as her head turned to the side, finding Trent gone.

--------

Wood stared at him in shock. "What?! You want to know where the Marmo are camped? Why the hell would you want to go anywhere near that place?!"

Trent gave him a cool look. "Dark elves are with the Marmo. I have some business with what's left of my race."

Woodchuck groaned to himself. "Goddamn crazy elves...Look, I know they're taking out Kannon first. That's about it. Still, its not exactly hard to figure out where the real battles going to be, and with who."

Trent nodded. "Yep. Beld wants Valis and King Fahn's head. So I guess I may as well head there."

"Hey...how about springing me out of here?"

Trent gave him a wry grin. "Oh, of course. Just wait until after we've left, and I'll spring you then." Further talk was halted as some kind of explosion took place outside. Trent charged out of the dungeon, despite Wood's bellows to come back and let him out.

In the fortress's courtyard, Trent's eyes widened in shock as the towers adorning the outer wall exploded in fire spells.

The dark elf grinned slightly as he faded into sight before the gateway. Trent glared coldly at him, his hand snapping to his shoulder. His glare hardened slightly as he found air; he'd neglected to bring his katana.

The dark elf took that opportunity to send a throwing knife towards Trent. He dodged it easily, his hand yanking out the short sword at his waist. The next flurry of knives were deflected by Trent's blade. He whipped his sword in an arc as he leapt backwards, cutting down two goblins that had been trying to sneak up on him.

"Trent!" Deed called, sending two knives towards the dark elf.

He turned, catching the sheathed blade tossed to him. He charged Deed, yanking the sword from the sheath in the same motion. Her eyes widened in shock at his headlong charge.

SHRANG VVVSHUM!

She swallowed nervously as he appeared behind her, taking out a pair of orcs. "Listen, Wood's still stuck, in the dungeon. I need to try and get him out. Hold down the fort, would you?"

Deed nodded, turning to the attacking dark elf. "Go."

Trent sliced apart another two or three goblins, but for the most part ignored anything that wasn't in his immediate way. His eyes widened in shock as a fire spell abruptly impacted the keep, sending down the roof. He charged in regardless. "WOOD! IF YOU'RE ALIVE, START YELLING!"

"You son of a bitch!" he growled. "You said you were going to be right back!"

Trent grinned weakly in relief at the sight of Woodchuck buried under a few of the beams, but for the most part unharmed. "Hey, thief's got to depend on his own wits, huh?" he quipped as he started levering aside the wooden beams.

Wood snorted as he turned his head. I can't believe he actually took the time to come back for me. Who'd of thought... "Hey! Hey, get back here and finish the job!"

Trent spared him a glance. "You can get those last two on your own; there's a battle up there that's a bit more pressing." He grinned tightly at the curses Woodchuck hurled after him as he leapt back onto the field. He cursed at the sight of the nearly overrun tower; some of the initial shock troops had managed to lever open the door, letting the bigger orcs and ogres a chance to get into the battle. He leapt to the side as one of the eight-foot tall ogres took a swing at him with a war scythe, three of his throwing daggers streaking out into its chest.

"Trent!" Deedlit called as the battle continued. Once again, the dark elf she'd been fighting had disappeared. She gasped as two throwing knives came towards her, followed by a charging elf. She yanked up her sword to parry, but it was knocked aside by his sheer force. As he raised his sword, he screamed in pain as the head of a javelin blossomed in his chest.

Jebra panted, his sword left in one hand, his other clasping a gaping wound in his side. Trent's eyes widened at the sight as he ran forward, Slayn, Ghim, and Etoh also coming forward. "Etoh, try to stop the bleeding."

As the priest knelt beside the captain, he shook it aside. "Save your treatment." Painfully, he dragged himself to his feet. "None of you are connected to this fortress. Leave while you can."

Trent glared at him. "Are you stupid or something? We're not just leaving you to die."

Jebra coughed as he used his sword like a walking stick. "No, you're leaving so you can warn the rest of Alania of this attack. Please..."

Deed and Etoh grabbed Trent's shoulders to hold him back as he tried to follow Jebra. Ghim jogged in front of him just long enough to slam a clenched fist into the dark elf's gut.

Trent gasped in pain as he fell to his knees, the world beginning to go dark. "Jebra...you idiot..."

Elsewhere in the fortress, Ashram finally deigned to take part. On a black horse as slender and regally menacing as himself, he surveyed the destruction he had ordered and orchestrated. Across the courtyard, he could hear the clopping of other hooves. Drawing closer on a pale, grayish white horse galloped Captain Jebra, broadsword outstretched in his right hand. Ashram gazed at him coldly as he drew nearer and nearer. Mere yards away, Jebra reared back in his saddle for a slash. In that instant, Ashram struck.

His hand shot under his cloak to his side, grasping the simple haft of his own long sword. A single, sideways stroke slipping under and past Jebra's guard was all it took to kill horse and rider in one titanic slash. Jebra barely had time to scream.

Outside, Trent gasped as he sat up. He winced at the ache in his gut, but for the most part ignored it. He turned to the now blazing walls of Fortress Myce, ignoring Deed, ignoring Slayn and Ghim, ignoring Etoh and Woodchuck. He stood up, scorning aid, to stare at a mirror image of his own darkness.

On the burning fortifications stood a man with eyes that glittered like ice. In the field below stood a second, whose frigid eyes matched the other, cold for cold. And between those two icy gazes, the flames of war were kindled.

to be continued...