"Come on, Jald, move it…" Eroket growled low in his throat as he moved through the underbrush at the same brisk pace.

The two mercenaries hadn't stopped for sleep or rest the entire night and from the night of moving through the underbrush, mud and dirt, Eroket was positively filthy, bone-white fur now nearly black from the mud and dirt and rough and coarse from lack of care, his clothes ripped and torn and he bled in several places from where sharp twigs had torn at him; Eroket had simply placed mud upon the wounds and moved on.

It was hard to tell the state of Jald from a simple glance, the mud and dirt seemed to be invisible upon the large ferret's ebon fur, but Eroket knew Jald was suffering no exhaustion, the ferret much more accustomed to these more difficult areas then his. Eroket, to his credit, much preferred his clothing to remain immaculate and fur well groomed, but upon this mission, there was no time for private vanity, no time for concern, no time for any sort of personal frippery; they would find the Ice Wolves and kill them.

Eroket would prove to Kirathal Frostclaw who the best truly was and send Jirik Valrik's ugly soul back to whatever hells had spawned it.

Jald raised a paw to signal a stop and knelt upon the ground, running a claw over the earth. "Bent plants, slight tracks, but almost obliterated completed…there's still some here, though." He raised his head to Eroket, "Ero, the size of the way somebeast wanted to take out these tracks suggest Hallic Thargo...he's the only weasel large enough to warrant something like this per pace."

Eroket shrugged lightly, "Hm," he replied evenly, "I don't care who it is, just point me in their direction, Jald."

Jald bit back a sigh, a retort, a patronizing comment, he didn't know what and instead replied, "Eroket, are you sure this is a good idea? We refused backup, we're going at about five beasts and we hardly know-"

"No, I'm not sure," Eroket snapped peevishly, seemingly on his last nerve, "I'm just sure that I want to find and kill the Ice Wolves!"

"Makes two of us, but refusing any sort of aid?"
"They'd only hold us back; we've achieved much harder, Jald."

"We've never been against Ice Wolves."

"You said it yourself, Nightson," Eroket said evenly, "They bleed, they'll die."

Jald sighed lightly and simply nodded. He was conflicted enough on this subject without continuous issues and arguments. He knew Eroket's idea was bad, knew it would probably get them both killed, but-how many times had Aleran had a similar idea and the two of them had walked out, not just with their lives, but accomplishing everything they had desired? For a reason Jald could not explain, Jald would follow Eroket, whether to victory or death, he was uncertain.

The two mercenary warriors, the Manticore and the son of his dearest comrade continued their hunt for the Ice Wolves.

----

Harkon was meditating; the large red fox sat at the base of a tree, arms folded across his broad chest and his eyes closed, shoulders rising and falling with the careful rhythm of his breath.

Kardran envied the ability to slip out of reality in favor of calm peace. At times he could scarcely believe Harkon was of the Ice Wolves and a comrade of the savage Jirik, but Curian had assured him of the red fox's prowess in battle, excelling in paw to paw combat. Kardran found himself liking both Harkon and Curian and inwardly, the Iridian otter hoped they would be spared of death when Kirathal's ambitions came crashing down.

Hallic was sleeping, the brute also leaning against a tree, head lowered and eyes closed, massive trident in his lap. Jirik had gone off to prowl the forests, accompanied and watched closely by the Sword Collector. After the last…incident, Curian's trust of Jirik-what little there was to start- was completely eroded. Jirik, for his part, accepted Curian's company with sardonic pleasure and indifference, leaving Kardran with the other three.

Something just didn't feel right to him. Granted, when one is forced to give up one's identity, masquerade as a criminal aid to a beast such as Jirik and travel with the most brutal killer he had ever met, little could be thought of as 'right.' However, something felt less right.

His ear twitched lightly as he heard something moving through the underbrush into the camp. "Curian? Jirik?"

A footstep halted, as if a beast had stiffened. No, not Curian and Jirik, definitely not. His paw went for his sword, whirling around and half drawing it, ready to do what he had to.

In response, the tip of a schianova stared him in the face, accompanied by blazing amber eyes, locked in an expression of rage.

Kardran-or Garic- instantly understood how this beast had recognized him.

"You." The voice was tight and the word a sibilant hiss from the ermine. "Drop it."

Kardran obeyed, paw opening and his blade fell to the earth inaudibly, not daring to make a sudden move. He recognized this ermine, the amber eyes…the slaughter so many years ago.

The slaughter he himself had led.

"Commander Nightblade…" His voice was toneless.

"Commander Garic Riverblade," Nightblade's voice held no hatred, the rage appeared to have passed, "I didn't figure you for an Ice Wolf. Stupid pawn, maybe. Ice Wolf? No."

Garic's teeth gritted and he swallowed his pride, "Insult me all you like, Nightblade. Or kill me and get it over with."

"Lovely idea," The ermine replied, never taking his eyes from Garic's. "Afraid I can't oblige. I'm going to assume we have the same agenda: Stopping Frostclaw."

"Originally it was spying on Iridanis's predecessor, but the circumstances…changed."

"I figured." The ermine replied calmly. "This leaves me in a dilemma. I can't really hold the death of men against you, I've avenged them a long time ago: However, that doesn't mean I have to like you or trust you and your little acting role may require more convincing, which could be giving me and Jald over to your compatriots."

"Jald Nightson?" Kardran tried to glance over at Harkon and Hallic, praying Curian and Jirik were busy wherever they were; if they arrived now, there could be a slaughter.

"Yeah, you may've heard about us taking apart Crimson Tears one operation at a time over the last year or so."

"You should've seen Geras sweat," Garic answered with a half smile.

"I'd rather see him bleed." Eroket responded dryly; Garic almost laughed and Eroket replied. "Yeah, Jald's out there somewhere, watching us. He'll alert me if anything goes on."

"What are you planning then, Eroket Nightblade?"
"Originally, I was going to kill you and then slit their throats while they slept then ambush the other two whenever they got back."

"How mercenary," Garic grunted with a trace of distaste."

"Effective," Eroket corrected gently. "Objections?"

"Not with Hallic. With the fox, yes."

"Do tell."

"He's not a bad creature, Nightblade. Neither is the Sword Collector. They're both honorable and they really believe in-" He stopped as Eroket's sword moved closer to his throat.

"I'm touched," Eroket Nightblade hissed. "Those 'honorable' creatures butchered innocents. Those honorable creatures cut a mouse who was probably just old enough to walk in half in front of me."

"That was Jirik…Curian and Harkon, didn't approve," Garic tilted his head back, attempting to avoid cutting himself with his very breathing, "They're not like him."

For a moment the ermine was silent. "I'll see what I can do."

Garic wanted to thank the ermine as the sword withdrew, a paw flying to his throat but as he tilted his head down, the last thing he saw was the hilt of the schianova flying at him face. Then there were stars and colored lights. Then there was darkness.

--

Eroket caught the otter before he fell and lowered him to the ground gently, making it appear as if he were just sleeping like the others, whispering to himself, "One down."

He raised a paw, a 'wait' signal to Jald, and walked slowly to out of the clearing the Ice Wolves had made, suddenly freezing as he heard the herald of approach: footsteps: Steps belonging to two beasts.

He reflected to what Garic had said, that the other weren't 'bad creatures.' Bad blood or not, Eroket knew he'd shed it all the same if they got in his way.

He saw the golden fox, the walking armory emerge first, managing to duck into the darkness before he was spotted.

Then he saw the demon. Jirik was dressed in a night-black cloak and hood, crimson eyes piercing the darkness and Eroket felt a chill as if Jirik had indeed spotted him.

"Wake up, brute." Jirik's voice growled and then a sharp kick followed by a growl of protest.

Curian's voice was admonishing. "All of you asleep. Disgraceful, Hallic."

Another grunt followed by a growl.

Eroket could have sworn he heard a pause before Jirik's voice sounded. "I should open your neck for that…"

Curian sounded irritated. "Jirik, stop suggesting death for every small thing, you'll get your fill soon enough. Go get the supplies. We're in no worse a position than Serion at the gates."

Something rang suddenly and horribly wrong.

Before Eroket knew what was happening, a fist crashed into his skull and the ground met him. He scrambled on his back swiftly, looking up to see Jirik Valrik's savage grin. "So soon we meet again, little Nightblade."

The rasp of a sword clearing its sheath from beneath that curtain of night echoed in the darkness. "Hello and goodbye!"

A shadow crossed Eroket vision, slamming into the black fox, disarming him with a twist of a paw and slamming an elbow into his jaw. With a snarl, Jirik fell back, scrambling back and to his foot in an undignified manner. "Son of the Night!"

Jald Nightson kicked Ero's schianova towards him and the ermine seized it quickly, pulling himself up as Jirik righted himself, crimson eyes blazing in fury. "You laid paws on me. This is a new cloak, too! For that, I'm going to feed you your eyes!"

Jald's teeth bared in a savage grin as Eroket sprang up beside him. The Manticore's eyes swept over the four beasts, three of them Ice Wolves. "Curian. Harkon."

"For old times' sake, Jald, put the sword down," Curian replied, drawing one of his own as Harkon lowered himself into a fighting crouch. "We don't want to kill you, old comrade."

"Speak for yourself," Jirik hissed, staring at the black ferret hatefully. Eroket felt an odd rush of elation: Jald had just proven Jirik Valrik was as susceptible to injury and surprise attack as he.

Jald shook his head. "You know I can't do that, Curian."

"Why! For some trite idea of justice!"

"Something like that," Jald answered with a shrug and a smirk, twirling his sword. "How did you know where Ero was anyways."

"That would be me."

The growling, but intelligible voice caused both Eroket and Jald to stare in shock at Hallic Thargo. Even Curian and Harkon looked taken aback.

The massive weasel just grinned, revealing his filed teeth as his booming voice rang out in a chuckle. "If it's big, it's stupid, right? Thankfully Jirik looked past this stereotype…we even developed our own little code for it. You'd be amazed what you can do when beasts think you're an idiot," The grin turned mocking, "No beast even thought I could fake something like sleep."

Jald managed a smile, "Lovely deception. Smart or stupid, my sword'll cut you all the same. Eroket…run."

The ferret and ermine whirled and instantly took off into the foliage.

For a moment Curian gaped before he whirled on the others and issued his orders, "Harkon, Hallic! You two wait here! If only one of us comes back or neither returns in an hour, take Kardran and go back north. Jirik, you're with me and we're after them."

Neither Hallic nor Harkon could move fast through the trees thanks to their sheer bulk and mass and Kardran, now that he looked, was unconscious…Hallic seemed to be staring at the otter with loathing now. The brute-or not, Curian thought, still with a twinge of shock, seemed to have his reasons. "Harkon, you're in charge." He added quickly before taking off, the enraged son of House Valrik at his heels.

---

Eroket Nightblade and Jald Nightson had split up early, an effort to draw their pursuers apart, too, and now Eroket Nightblade crouched behind a tree, listening for the approach of footfalls, of pursuers.

He only heard two and the sound indicated Jirik and Curian…one of them the beast he wanted dead the most. This suited him just fine.

A dagger appeared in his paw and he waited until the thunderous sound had passed his tree before he whirled out, paw snapping and the dagger flying. Eroket waited for the bite of the dagger before swearing viciously as it bounced off with a metallic clang, right off one of Curian's swords.

Curian stopped and whirled, "Jirik! The Nightblade brat!"

Jirik managed to stop and turned as well, drawing his sword with a swift motion, fangs baring in a savage grin, "Third time's a charm, Nightblade boy..."

Eroket stepped back, sword at ready, remembering Jald's lessons- back against a tree, try to keep them separate, run for your life if you can…they'd be expecting the latter, so that was out…he'd die very fast with his back against a tree and trying to keep them separate? He wished Jald were here, but he was probably…

Probably facing the other two. He may've been dead…he couldn't be dead, he was Jald Nightson! No two of ANYTHING could kill him!

"So, both at once then?" Eroket growled, "That the honor your master preaches?"

Jirik's eyes flickered in amusement and he began to laugh. Curian did not. "Honor? I hope you're not so naïve, Night-"

"No, Curian, this might be enjoyable…give him his honor," Jirik smirked. "We should try to be fair about the affair."

"Mercy from you, Valrik?"

"I just don't want him dying thinking he had a chance." Jirik shrugged and leaned back.

Curian shrugged and stepped forward, choosing a single, straight sword. "Very well then. Nightblade, if you win, you go free. You lose, I take your head here. Agreed?"

"Agreed…"

"I am Curian the Sword Hunter!" The golden fox cried suddenly, twirling his sword up, "The Golden Wolf, saved from death by Kirathal Frostclaw! Those who seek to destroy my master's dream I will destroy with no mercy!"

Eroket met the challenge, "I am Eroket Nightblade, son of Aleran Nightblade, pupil of Jald Nightson and avenger of the Calpathions! By the soul the peace my father fought for, I will never permit the chaos of the Unification Wars to be brought to the world!"

"You speak big! NOW BACK IT UP!" Curian was upon him, sword flashing. Feint right, strike left!

Eroket had been shown the move and its counter by Kalis long ago, tensing of opponent's leg, sword down, twirl to block, slide along the blade into your opponent's heart!

Curian must have known the move as well. With a jerk of raw power, he swung the sword back to the right, ruining the thrust and brought the sword back in an arc meant to decapitate his younger opponent.

Eroket ducked and struck as Curian's momentum carried him forward, gouging him in the side. Curian hardly even flinched as he jumped back.

The whelp had scored first blood on him. He was indeed his father's son.

Eroket brought his sword in a ready position as he and Curian met once more, steel flashing at steel as Curian sought to claim an advantage and found not a trace of an opening, not a weakness to exploit.

This kid was good, he realized as he was again sent back by another deeper cut along the ribs, clapping a paw to the wound. He was good…much better than Curian…he was even holding back, the golden fox realized with shock.

"Curian, I'm getting embarrassed just watching you…you're supposed to rival Tethik."

"Shut up, Jirik!" Curian growled, holding his blade in front of him. The black fox laughed.

"Can't you even kill the kid? Honestly, Kirath'd be disappointed in you! As opposed to me when I've followed his order to the letter…"

The battle light faded from Curian's eyes and the sword lowered, almost slipping from his paws, a half whispered word, almost a denial slipped from Curian's lips. "What…? But, that…that…"

"Oh, that…the kid? The little village? All orders: "Kill everything and everyone you come across."…is there a problem? You said it yourself: There are causalities in every war…"

"You're lying!" The golden fox practically screamed. Eroket didn't strike him. He had the perfect chance, a part of Curian's brain realized, "YOU'RE LYING!"
"We've been over this, Curian, I don't lie." The mouth twisted into a savage grin, revealing the pearly fangs, "I just…followed his ord-"

With a scream, Curian whirled and ran at Jirik. Jirik met him halfway. They collided and Curian's mouth dropped open, Jirik's locked in demonic glee and pleasure. Eroket saw his arm twist.

When they parted, Jirik was no longer holding his sword: He'd left it in Curian's stomach. He walked over to the shocked golden fox, put a paw on the hilt and without a care for the other fox's safety, ripped the sword out. Eroket could see the wound was mortal-and a gut wound, one of the most agonizing ways to die.

"I've wanted to do that for years." Jirik kicked Curian's prone figure, smirking. "Well, Eroket, the duel is yours by default. Love to Jald, see you soon. I'll leave the Iridian for you, it'd be too boring to fight just two…three may make it more fun." He smiled again. "And Curian? Know how much Kirath appreciates your loyalty…? He'll never notice you're gone." Jirik turn and ran, off into the foliage, into the night.

Eroket suddenly remembered he could move and was at the golden fox's side in seconds.

"All…a lie…" The fox whispered; his eyes were shut tight, tears trickling down his cheeks. "None of it was real…All I fought for…"

Eroket wished he could think of comforting words, but he couldn't find the strength to speak. Blinking strangely wet eyes, he reached out and took hold of Curian's paw.

The golden fox stirred lightly and looked at Eroket, "Nightblade…Kirathal's plan…he and Geras convinced Nidas…Wavelord…to loan them a fleet…going to attack Calishan and Gair…start a war…it'll spread…"

Eroket nodded once, "Curian…"

"Don't try to comfort me…I'm dying…you'd only insult me…everything I believed was a lie…" He shook his head, blood leaking from his wounds, "Promise me something…"

"What is it?"

"Bury me with my swords…they were my only friends for years…I couldn't stand to part with them…and Nightblade…don't lose yourself like I did…" He stared at Eroket, a strange clearness settling over his eyes, "Not a monster…like Jirik…or Kirathal…and please…kill me. It'll take a long time otherwise…Make what I dreamed of…a world where soldiers can live without fear, be honored for what they are…a truth."

Eroket didn't argue. He'd done this more than once, when a comrade lay on the battlefield mortally wounded or unable to move, with your sword you rescued him from your enemy's clutches. He didn't argue, didn't protest. He took a dagger and pressed it to Curian's throat. The golden fox tilted his head back.

"May Dark Forest welcome you," Eroket said.

He cut.