Chapter Three

Jarlaxle smiled up at Lander as he leaned on the top of the stair rail; the man was resplendent in a crimson silk tunic with golden dragons racing across the arms. Studded black leather armor protected his torso, and a broadsword peeked over his shoulder from its sheath on his back. To Jarlaxle, this showed a man of good taste; surely he could get the human to see his vision. "Greetings, Master Stonar."

"You may call me Lander for whatever time you have left." The man straightened, and his long black ponytail bobbed with the movement. "You did well to escape our maze. I trust you've enjoyed the experience?"

Entreri unsheathed his vampiric dagger. "Well enough to show you our gratitude," he said in a voice that promised extended torture before death.

Lander grinned. "Brilliant, isn't it? My great-grandfather began the maze's construction, and my brother and I finished it." He propped one hand on his hip and titled his head. "You may not have appreciated being on the receiving end, but you have to admire the craftsmanship."

Nyx smirked and pulled out her nunchaku. "Does your ego require such stroking that you would beg a compliment from your enemies?"

Lander laughed, apparently genuinely amused, but Jarlaxle held out his hand to calm his bloodthirsty friends.

"And you have to admit," Jarlaxle said, "that your adversaries were clever enough to defeat your traps and find you." He put on his best smile—the one that promised wit and mutual profit. "Perhaps, then, you should reconsider. What benefits could be gained from making your adversaries your allies?"

Entreri and Nyx both stared at him in shock, although the assassin looked less surprised, a fact which pleased Jarlaxle. Entreri was no fool. The drow stepped forward a few steps, holding one hand behind his back.

This is a fine opportunity, he signed to Entreri using drow handcode. There is no reason why we can't attain a double profit here. Just let me handle this man.

"Hells," Entreri spat, clenching his fist around his dagger, and Jarlaxle worried for a moment that he would blow the chance before he could even act.

"Benefits?" Lander raised an eyebrow. "So you are double-dealing?"

Jarlaxle grinned. "What do you need the half-elven girl for? To release monsters? There are easier ways to attain what you seek. And not only can my allies and I provide those means, we would prove quite an asset to you in future business transactions."

The drow could almost hear Entreri grinding his teeth in anger, and he could only hope the man would see how he could be benefited by this alliance before he lost his temper. Nyx, however, was shifting her weight from foot to foot, swinging her nunchaku, which in Jarlaxle's mind made her the more immediate threat.

Lander fingered his chin and then smiled. "I get a certain thrill from the idea, I must admit. But who can trust a drow?"

"Who can trust a Zhent?" Entreri snarled, finally interrupting the exchange. "Seems to me that the two of you would make a fine couple."

Lander chuckled, and Jarlaxle shot the assassin a warning glance.

"I was going to say that Old Man Brightwood was smarter than I'd given him credit for," Lander said, "but it would seem that your friends do not share in your dream."

"A certain amount of discussion should bring us all four to the same page," Jarlaxle replied, even as he had to mentally chastise himself for underestimating the random variable Entreri could introduce to a situation. He should have revealed more to the assassin as his plan formed; despite his predictability, Entreri had a wild streak born out of his rage and pride that could throw any game. As for Nyx, Jarlaxle was beginning to think he should have sent her with Tai—she was now slapping her nunchaku against the palm of her hand.

"You mean the five of us," said a baritone voice.

Jarlaxle looked up to the second story railing and saw what seemed to be a clone of Lander, except this man wore a navy wizards' robe with a silken pattern that shone in swirls as he moved. A navy ribbon pulled the man's sleek black hair into a ponytail like Lander's, and as Jarlaxle considered the swallow undertones to the man's skin and the slight slant of his eyes, he realized that these two humans had to share ancestry with Tai.

"Allow me to introduce my brother, Melcer" Lander said as his twin descended the left side of the split staircase and joined him on the landing.

"If I'm not mistaken," Jarlaxle murmured, "your ancestors are Mulan. Perhaps from Unther?"

"A sharp eye," Melcer said, smoothing down his robes. He cocked an eyebrow at Jarlaxle, as though summing up his inherent worth.

"On our mother's side," Lander added with a dismissive wave. He reached out and locked arms with Melcer. "Now tell me. Are you serious about forging an alliance with my brother and me?"

"Quite!" Jarlaxle said, but Entreri had stepped up beside him. The man's entire body language radiated anger: his fists were clenched, his shoulders tense, and his jaw set.

Lander slanted a sideways look at Entreri and Nyx. "I'm unsure your partners agree with you. And perhaps you should understand our motives before you offer to be our allies: I intend—or rather, I should say, Melcer and I intend—to subjugate this entire area under our control as a new hub of Zhentarim activity."

"Never," Nyx said, stowing her nunchaku and dropping her hands near her weapons' belt, her fingers seeming to itch for the feel of her shuriken.

"I am the guardian of no people," Entreri said, "but neither do I intend to become the puppets of the Zhentarim."

Jarlaxle sighed at Entreri's lack of vision. Could the man not see the possibilities created by such a powerful alliance? "The deal we are attempting to forge here is not that of a puppet and its master." Didn't the assassin realize that Jarlaxle would be never be anyone's puppet?

Lander licked his lips, and Entreri narrowed his eyes. Jarlaxle could tell his plan was deteriorating.

Melcer leaned into this brother and smirked. "I don't think the drow has proper control of his subjects."

Entreri bristled like a pit bull preparing to attack.

Lander pursed his mouth into a half-smile, which he directed at Melcer. "Now, brother . . ."

Nyx stepped forward and yanked on the edge of Jarlaxle's rainbow-colored cape. "Give it up. These guys want nothing other than destruction. You can't be partners with them—unless, of course, you want to be responsible for the deaths of thousands of men, women, and children?"

Entreri had his gaze locked on the Stonar twins, but he hadn't pounced yet. Jarlaxle decided he could chance looking at Nyx.

Her brown eyes glinted. "Or is gold Jarlaxle's god?" Her hand hovered near her nunchaku once again. "Would you be willing to indirectly kill an entire city's worth of innocent people in order to gain more power and wealth?"

Jarlaxle never killed anyone unless he absolutely had to—that tenet was the one the Crystal Shard had violated at Dallabad Oasis. At the moment, however, he wasn't sure he could convince Nyx of that. "I merely search for opportunities to prosper myself—not opportunities to shed blood. I will kill, but not unnecessarily and not ever for pleasure." He nodded toward Entreri. "If you want to fear someone, it should be him. He needs little incentive to kill."

Nyx frowned, but Lander laughed and unlocked his arm with his brother's.

"In that case," Lander said, unsheathing his broadsword, "I would like to fight your assassin." He winked at Nyx. "I would also like to treat the lady to dinner." His gaze became pointed as he looked down at Jarlaxle. "You, however, have disappointed me. I expected something more interesting from a drow transversing the Surface, but you are simply a typical mercenary leader."

Jarlaxle narrowed his eyes. The human had turned out to be far too arrogant to reason with, and given their current predicament, the drow couldn't twist that pride to his advantage.

Without looking over his shoulder, Lander said, "Melcer! Send them back to the maze for a little more fun."

The wizard backed away several steps and fell into spellcasting.

Entreri unsheathed Black Widow and approached the stairs, apparently plotting on how to force Lander to give up the high ground. Nyx stepped up beside Jarlaxle, pulled out her shuriken, and sent them flying at Melcer, no doubt to break his concentration, but Lander swatted them out of the air with his blade.

"You are a beautiful woman warrior I would like to court," Lander said, narrowing his eyes, "but I will surely kill you if you harm my brother."

"Don't worry." Nyx yanked her kukri from their thigh sheathes. "I'd make sure you joined your brother in death immediately."

To Jarlaxle, Lander's feral grin seemed to indicate he appreciated Nyx's attitude, but the drow didn't have a chance to ponder the human's quirks. His plan had been blown and the battle begun. With a sigh at the failure, he withdrew the silver wand which would unleash a cone of ice and snow and fired it up the staircase at Melcer.

"Melcer!" Lander yelled, jumping the stair railing. Entreri immediately dashed after him.

The wizard vaulted to the side, barely avoiding becoming an ice sculpture. Jarlaxle aimed again, but Melcer had pulled something from his robe's pocket. Speaking a command word, he pointed his finger in Jarlaxle's direction. A red-glowing, pea-sized bead burst from his finger, igniting a fire ball with a low roar.

Without a second thought, Jarlaxle tackled Nyx and shielded her as the flame descended upon them.

---

Entreri had charged Lander as soon as he'd jumped to the ground floor. Not giving him time to regroup, the assassin slashed at the man's knee, aiming for his tendons. Lander jerked his sword into a parry at the last instant, and then pushed his forearm against the flat of the blade, lunging forward and forcing Entreri back. The assassin leapt backward and crossed his blades in a defensive stance; the spidery etchings upon the greenish-silver blade seemed to flash up and down the blade, as though they were reacting to his desire to fight. Even the garnets in the crosspiece glowed.

"Your sword seems in tune with you," Lander said, holding his broadsword before him. "It's humming with your battle spirit."

Entreri watched the grinning man with suspicion, wondering why he seemed to treat their fight as a game. "So what if it does?" He feinted to the right, testing the man's reflexes.

Lander reacted instantly, meeting the feint without leaving himself open to attack. "That means you are a honed warrior—nothing less, but certainly nothing more."

Entreri wasn't sure he could disagree, but he was unimpressed nevertheless. "And you are something more, I assume."

"The best," Lander replied, drawing his sword back and charging Entreri head on. "And the future leader of the Zhentarim!"

Entreri dodged the strike and blocked the follow-through as Lander shifted momentum and swung his sword toward his ribs. "Conquest eternal," he intoned with utter boredom, deciding to throw Lander's insult to Jarlaxle back in his face. "Could you not be more original?"

Lander smirked and brought his sword around and then down in an overhead strike.

Overconfident, Entreri thought, capitalizing on the moment. Flipping his dagger into a reverse grip, he used it to shield his arm and up-blocked to deflect the blade. The impact jarred his entire body, but he was prepared for it and didn't slow. Using the split second opening, Entreri cleaved Black Widow into Lander's side, driving the enchanted blade through both flesh and bone.

Lander yelled, but before Entreri could finish him, a swarm of angry butterflies assaulted his stomach. A wave of nausea washed over him as the room spun around him and then snapped back to normal—revealing a new location.

Beside him, Jarlaxle and Nyx were holding their stomachs and gasping.

"Welcome back to the maze," Jarlaxle said.

Miri had taken the midnight watch while Tai and Darvin both communed with Hoar. Now she was peacefully asleep, the campfire creating red highlights in her platinum blonde hair, and Tai was trying not to stare at her. She had put her hand on his knee! She had flirted with him! Tai grinned to himself.

However, the grin left his face when he glanced over at Darvin, who was settling down to sleep as well. Obviously the half elf had feelings for her, and equally obviously she only saw him as a friend. Tai knew what that portended. Perhaps he should hide his own feelings in order to maintain peace?

Tai seemed to hear Nyx's voice in his mind: You couldn't hide your feelings if you tried. He sighed, knowing Nyx's imagined assessment was true. And why should I? Tai thought, suddenly irritated. We are attracted to each other, and I'm hardly ever around girls my own age!

Darvin had rolled over and faced away from Tai, who had this watch. With a sigh of relief, Tai picked up Darvin's copy of the Asssurian Codex and eyed it with distaste, feeling irrationally angry at it for existing and for not revealing itself sooner. Shaking away his irritation, the priest opened the first book and skimmed through it, finding a record of revelations concerning Hoar's history, relationship with other deities, and the founding of his loose-knit church. Most of this information Tai already knew, but the book promised a fascinating read. He set it aside and picked up the second book, which contained copies of letters and stories about priests and followers and the acts of poetic justice they carried out. Tai nodded to himself, deciding that book would prove both interesting and informative. Perhaps the stories could give Tai ideas or provide guidance during particularly difficult decisions.

The third book also proved compelling because it recorded songs and poems of praise and celebration which Tai knew he could put to good use. The fourth book, however, was the one Tai was most keen to see, given that Darvin had quoted it. Tai flipped through the well-worn pages, scanning the neat, blockish handwriting and finding a list of guidelines and rules for how to carry out vengeance: Don't pursue evil for evil's sake. Evil will come to evil, and good will come to good. The punishments must fit the crimes. No injustice is too small to be avenged.

All this Tai already knew, but he found specific examples in the guidelines—The Code—that he realized one could use as a yardstick, like flogging an abusive parent ten times per years of the child's life. Tai didn't interpret the rule as absolute, more as a suggestion for what would be appropriate. After all, Hoar was concerned with the spirit of the law, and not the letter. The latter part of The Code seemed equally helpful, explaining communing, praising, and the Hoarites' two official holidays, Penultimate Thunder and Impending Doom.

But it was the last book that stole Tai's breath and left him staring. Book Five was a record of prophecies made by Hoarites. The entire forest seemed to recede from existence as Tai poured over the predictions, learning of an upsurge in the religion "ten score hundred years" after the infamous Time of Troubles. The Time of Troubles themselves had been predicted some three hundred years prior to their occurrence, complete with a prediction that Hoar would slay his rival Ramman, with whom he'd fought over the allegiance of Unther, and that Anhur, the Mulhorandi deity of war, would steal Hoar's victory out from under him. There was even a prophecy that Tyr and Shar would battle over Hoar's tortured soul, with Tyr winning! Stunned, Tai read the outcome quickly, worried for what that would mean, but he relaxed when the prophecy stated that Hoar would simply become more bittersweet in his humor, encouraging his followers to be more ironic and poetic in their justice. To Tai, that prophecy was encouraging, especially given how incredibly enraged Hoar could be over the injustices of the world. Some nights, communing felt like a hot spring bath for the soul.

But as Tai began to set aside the book of prophecies, promising himself a closer read later, a word seemed to jump off the page at him. He looked again, trying to determine what he'd seen. "The Chosen of Hoar," it read, and Tai snatched the book closer, reading quickly.

"'The Chosen of Hoar are sent during the darkest hour of each generation,'" Tai read aloud in a whisper, "'reviving the faith and ridding the world of those heretics who commit evil and injustice in Hoar's name. Greatly blessed by Hoar for their purity of intent and heart, The Chosen represent Hoar's ironic and poetic nature, which will smooth the road for the future alliance between Hoar and Tyr. The Chosen are fated to always be accompanied by two Holy Javelins, who will assist the Chosen in spreading the message and vengeance of Hoar throughout the world. However, each Chosen is destined to face an AntiChosen, and many other such heretics as well, all of whom will seek the Chosen's life. If the Javelins are not diligent, the Chosen's life will be lost, and that generation also.'"

Tai set down the book, intrigued. The Chosen of Hoar. Was he fated to be one of those Javelins? Would he play a role in assisting and protecting the Chosen of his generation? If only he could be selected for such a blessed role! Hoar had indicated he had a significant mission to fulfill. Dare he be arrogant enough to wish to stand by the Chosen's side?

Tai sighed, a small smile upon his face. Hoar would decide, of course.

The room was simple: a black and white checkered floor, wooden panel walls, and an open rafter ceiling. It could have been a room anywhere, but it wasn't—it was part of the Stonar castle maze.

"Melcer managed to finish his spell," was all Nyx would say as she patted down the burnt ends of her hair.

Entreri checked her over for injuries, and surprisingly, she allowed him to do so.

"Although I promise I'm fine," she mumbled as the assassin looked over her arms.

"My fire ring shielded us both," Jarlaxle said.

"Fortunately for her," Entreri replied.

"But overall, we seem to be in trouble," Jarlaxle continued dryly. "We might run into another gorgon, or perhaps one of the dragons or chimera pictured in that that mural."

Entreri whirled on him, anger radiating from every inch of his body. "Of course we're in trouble! I could have told you this wouldn't work. The Zhentarim are a massive network that include a vast army and countless wizards—"

"Yes, I know," the drow interrupted with a smile.

Entreri stalked forward, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him. "They're also led by a powerful priest—a man more powerful than you."

"That's why I do not work alone," Jarlaxle said calmly, dropping a dagger from his bracer into one of his hands in case Entreri attacked.

The assassin's grip on his arms tightened ruthlessly. "You are not listening! Rumors hold that this leader, Fzoul Chembryl, is the Chosen Tyrant of Bane. The entire organization is tied to the Church of Bane! And the Zhentarim's methods are somewhat at odds with your own."

"No one said I wished to join them," Jarlaxle pointed out. "I was planning—"

"Planning to get us all killed with your greed?" Entreri pushed the drow back into the wall. "You made a significant decision involving me without discussing it with me, even though we are supposed to be partners."

"Not to mention that you hid your intentions under the guise of saving Miri," Nyx said, drawing out her nunchaku.

Jarlaxle glanced at the enraged monk. "I would have saved Miri in the process. Did you not hear me offer the Stonars a different means of accomplishing their goal? I would have removed the danger to the girl and gained control over the Stonars and their plans. No harm would have—"

"Like you have control over me?" Entreri asked, his eyes glittering with killing intent. "We've discussed this before—too many times."

"Our partnership has always been a joint—" Jarlaxle began.

Entreri interrupted again. "You have never given me more information than you feel is absolutely necessary at a given moment, but up until this fiasco, I hadn't cared enough to press you on the matter." He pressed the drow's shoulders a bit harder into the wall. "You are always implying I don't dream enough, and I won't challenge your judgment on that. But did it ever occur to you that you dream too much? If you reach for the stars and grasp them, your feet no longer touch the ground. You chose me for a partner; did it ever occur to you that you might be served by the fact my feet are always on the ground?"

"Indeed?" Jarlaxle was amused by Entreri's claims, yet curious at the same time.

"You need me," the assassin stated irrevocably. "You need me to ground you. But just as I have refused to accept what you believe you are—" He sighed. "—I mean, what you are offering me, you refuse to see what I am offering you."

Jarlaxle was stunned into speechlessness by the man's honest admission.

"What did you think?" Entreri continued, sounding tired now. "That you would weasel your way into the Zhentarim and eventually take control? Make their leader your puppet through a few well-placed assassinations? Maybe then make a few changes to make the organization suit you? It sounds like the high-flown plan of a male drow who dared to build his own House of rogues." He sighed again, and the sound seemed to echo an emptiness in the man's chest. "Your greed will destroy us all. Or perhaps not—I'm sure you have an escape plan for yourself." And suddenly the assassin's face grew hard, his eyes glinting, and he released the drow's shoulders. "Yes, of course you would."

"I assure you, I have no intention of getting any of us killed," Jarlaxle said, hiding his dagger in his cloak but still prepared to defend himself.

But Entreri continued as though the elf hadn't spoken. "Congratulations ," he said in a voice harsh with bitterness, "you've succeeded. You've set Nyx and me up to die here, but you'll find a way to save yourself. You'll be able to pursue your dreams freely without my dour interruptions." He turned on his heel and stalked away, his black cloak flying out behind him. Nyx glared at Jarlaxle, then followed Entreri out.

Melcer sat at the bottom of the cold marble steps holding his brother in his arms. The wizard had used a spell to block the poisonous effect of Entreri's sword, but the wound was ghastly. The assassin had cut a hole in Lander's side, slicing through muscle and bone and piercing a lung. "Don't die!" he whispered. "I sent the servants to get the healing potions."

Lander cracked one eye open and smiled; blood coated his teeth. "You shouldn't hold me," he gasped. "I'm ruining your expensive wizard's robe."

Tears collected in Melcer's eyes at his brother's attempt to cheer him up. "The robe is replaceable; you are not."

Lander lifted one arm and grasped his brother's hand, squeezing it. "I'm not going to die."

Melcer wasn't so sure. If they didn't heal him quickly, he would drown in his own blood, provided he didn't bleed out first.

Riff, one of the male servants, bolted out of the nearest hallway and gave two bottles of healing potion to Melcer. "Sonna is bringing the rest," he said.

"Thank you." Melcer accepted the first bottle and carefully put it to his brother's lips. He'd never paid much attention to the servants except to ensure they did their jobs properly, but at this moment he was profoundly grateful for their quick response to the sound of fighting. "Remind me to give you both a raise."

Riff bowed. "Yes, sir."

Lander had gulped down the first potion and was now breathing heavily. He cringed in pain. "Blast . . . it stings."

Melcer watched with concern as the massive rip in his brother's side began to knit together. The bones began to fuse first, the two severed sides reaching for each other like a closing drawbridge.

"Give me the other," Melcer said, and Riff handed him the second potion. He was still coaxing the fluid down his brother's throat when Sonna arrived with three more bottles, which she set by Melcer.

Lander turned his head away from the second bottle. "Wait. I feel nauseated."

Melcer obeyed, but he watched with concern as muscles began to grow over the exposed bone. Was the wound healing fast enough?

"Yes," Lander answered, as though he'd heard the thought.

Melcer smiled and brushed his brother's slick black hair out of his face. "Don't abuse our link," he teased.

Lander snorted faintly, and Melcer realized that the color was returning to his face.

"Can you drink the rest?" the wizard asked, and when Lander nodded, he fed him the rest of the second bottle as well as a third one.

After several minutes, Lander shifted in his arms and looked up at him, obviously ready to issue orders. Skin was now growing over the raw muscle, and Melcer was able to relax and listen to whatever his brother was going to say.

"I want you to go retrieve the sacrifice yourself," Lander said, still breathless. "They slipped past our first wave of soldiers and slaughtered the second. I doubt the final set of men will have better luck. I think it's time you put them in their places."

Melcer frowned, then nodded. "Very well. I'll prepare my spells and gather a few guards as reinforcements."

Lander smiled. "If you want something done right—"

"—do it yourself," Melcer finished. However, sitting there with his wounded brother in his arms, the wizard had to wonder if power and wealth were worth the price they might have to pay.

Tai awakened to chirping birds and a furious argument. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and stared up at Miri and Darvin, who were faced off on the far side of the dead campfire.

"I don't know what your issue is!" Miri yelled, clenching her fists. The sun, which filtered through the forest canopy, lit up the crown of her head like a halo, and Tai decided she was beautiful even when angry. "Quit treating me like a child! Just because I'm a woman, it doesn't mean I can't defend myself or fight!"

"I know that," Darvin snapped. "It's just that you're in a lot of danger here, and I'd prefer if you stayed out of the way during a confrontation."

"Did you see me turn into a leopard and rip my enemies limb from limb?" Miri asked. Her wolf joined her and growled at Darvin.

Tai decided the other priest better say yes, or he was running a risk of getting torn apart himself.

"A little," Darvin replied. "I'm not playing down your abilities, I promise, I just—"

"You've always done this," Miri interrupted. "Ever since we were kids. You've always treated me like the one year between our ages is actually ten or twenty. You've never really acknowledged my power. In fact, you're always telling me things I already know like I wasn't schooled with you."

Tai stood up and stretched, deciding he'd be wise to stay out of their conversation. No such luck though.

Miri gestured toward Tai. "At least he treats me like an equal."

Tai winced. He felt Darvin's glare of hate even before the priest turned it toward him.

Darvin stared him down even as he spoke to Miri. "Tai barely knows you."

"That doesn't change the fact he treats me with respect," Miri replied.

"Maybe we shouldn't argue right now," Tai ventured, "since we're—"

Tai's statement was interrupted as a crossbolt whizzed past his face, causing him to jump. "—Under attack!"

Darvin immediately began accessing Hoar's power, and Miri held up her hands, curling her fingers and whispering an incantation. The vines hanging on the trees snaked down and grabbed the first Zhent soldier who burst from the trees, hanging him. Her wolf took a defensive stance.

Reaching inside himself and touching the thread that connected his soul with Hoar, Tai called forth a wave of fear that he directed at the second soldier. The man froze up, and Tai threw one of his remaining non-enchanted dagger end-over-end into the man's throat. When the soldier fell, Tai felt suddenly grateful for all the melee lessons Entreri had given him.

Darvin intercepted the third soldier, blocking the man's sword thrust with his borrowed dagger and using his palm to shove the man's chin upward. The moment Darvin touched the man's skin, it erupted into gashes, ripping up his entire face through the power of Hoar.

Sensing danger from behind him, Tai spun around. The soldier with the crossbow was aiming toward him again, and Tai dived into a forward roll when he fired. The crossbolt harmlessly lodged in a tree. As soon as Tai regained his feet, he lunged toward the Zhent, knocking the crossbow from his hand and then stabbing the man with his vorpal dagger, electrocuting him. Spikes of lightning shot out of the man's head and shoulders, and when Tai withdrew the dagger, the Zhent collapsed dead.

Miri summoned a ball of fire into her palm and directed it toward her last attacker, immolating him. The blackened corpse stood upright for a moment, then fell to the ground, a mound of ash and carbonized flesh. Breathing deeply, the druid looked around. As suddenly as the fight had begun, it was over. The trio stood together, back-to-back in a triangle, and stared at their surroundings.

"That was so easy, it's almost creepy," Miri whispered, leveling her spear as though she expected further attack.

"I don't like it," Darvin said. He still held Tai's dagger out before him.

Tai had to agree. "I fear what they'll send against us next after their resounding defeats. We should prepare ourselves for some extreme measures." After all, Tai thought, madmen who want a blood sacrifice aren't the type to give up easily.

A/N: Chapter 4 is complete and is with my beta readers. I'm working on the final half of Chapter 5 now.