From the journal of Abudi Ibn-Nasir, Dragon Mountains, 25 Machl 1426.

 

The morning was clear. The sun was approaching its zenith when the Lenthian Cavalieur woke me and my companions. The Templar who accompanied him brought us roasted hare, for which I was so grateful I was speechless. For my bowels began to rumble with longing as soon as I caught the scent of the fire, around which the knights stood, chattering loudly.

From a nearby tent came the loud snoring of the Grand Master. As the young Friar explained, no doubt wanting to justify his leader, the Grand Master needed plenty of sleep to regain his strength.

As I mentioned earlier, hunger had left me speechless. Hunger had a completely different effect on my dear cousin. After his first bite of hare, he chatted like a market vendor.

"Dear Abudi, venerable cousin, how are you taking this hare?" Undeterred, he continued chatting with his mouth full, sipping wine from a skin.

"The meat tastes similar to sand hopper. It's more delicate, though. Although perhaps it's a matter of preparation," he paused for a moment to sip his wine, "or the air. Do you know, Abudi, that food tastes different in the mountains? I once went hunting sand hoppers with my brother Khalib. And everyone knows that sand hoppers are as big as an alaba bush. And imagine, we'd ventured deep into the desert. Suddenly, I see—" he trailed off dramatically, demanding more attention—"a young sand hopper slinking past us. We hid behind a dune, ready with our bows. When it appeared, I shot faster than Khalib, hitting it right in the heart. The sand hopper managed to howl piercingly. Overjoyed with our catch, we rushed toward the animal to take it home. And to our surprise, you see, where it had fallen, lay three sapphires, shimmering in the sun!"

I just shook my head. My cousin's imagination sometimes exceeded the bounds of common sense.

As I reached for the jewels, a strange voice spoke behind us. Despite the heat, I felt cold. We turned and saw a huge creature, like a camel, leaping, but its skin was gray with black stripes. We were terrified, and it spoke to us with these words: "You have killed one of my servants, whom I sent to be my eyes and ears. For this act, you will be punished." And before our eyes, it transformed into a Genius! A veritable hell broke loose. Where he had stood, a whirlwind formed, showering sand on us. The dunes shifted at their foundations and began to shift. My Khalib wanted to run away, but I…" I burst out laughing despite myself, which the Sahib responded with a cold look. "I shouted at the trumpet: 'Genius, you can't kill two hungry hunters. We have the same right to enjoy the desert's bounty. Your servant looked like a springer, and we mistook him for one.' Seeing that my words made no impression on him, I shot towards the raging storm. And the storm stopped, believe it. Just like that. And where the Genius had stood, there was a pile of jewels. Of course, we took them and fled. And behind us, a strange voice rang out again: 'Don't be afraid. Take these jewels as a reward, but don't tell anyone you've met me.'

The monk and I looked at each other. It's simply heartbreaking when my cousin starts to fantasize.

"You should become a storyteller, dear Sahib," I said. To which he became indignant and said: "You don't have to believe me." Whatever you like, a certain shepherd had a similar experience and brought greetings to Sahib and Khalid from a strange creature in the desert.

This was too much for me. I rose and headed for the campfire, where I spotted Lenthian and Khail Walverde.

Hora was later ordered to wake the Grand Master, the tent was packed up, and the party escorting the Warlock was ready to depart.

At precisely noon, we saw a procession led by Baron Ravenford. His intricately crafted armor reflected the spring sun. Behind him, between L'Okollus's beautiful daughter and a large dwarf who seemed ill at ease in the saddle, rode the shackled Warlock. His tunic flapped like wings. When our eyes met, a shiver ran down my spine. He glared at Walverde with piercing contempt. And with them rode ten orcs. Loathsome creatures. I once asked the Templars about the origins of these creatures. They replied that centuries ago, there lived a mage whose knowledge surpassed all understanding. In his laboratories, he created these strange humanoid creatures, which turned against their creator and attacked him in his sleep. As the Order said, many orcs perished in the fighting, but they managed to defeat the mage and take over his stronghold far to the east. From there, they spread into the western lands, conquering some cities. Three lords of the lands began fighting the orcs and pushed them into the mountains, where the creatures established their lairs and fortresses. A peace treaty was then signed with the orc king, a certain Arnhak. Over time, the orcs grew in power and harassed the border principalities. Another war ensued, in which the combined armies of Lokher and Oxydia defeated the orcs in a massive battle, but their main fortress was never captured.

We stood ready to march, waiting for them to approach. The Knights of the Order eyed the armed orcs warily. One of them held the banner of the Kingdom of Alden, depicting a crowned black dragon on a red and green background, clutching a scepter and sword in its claws. They stopped in the center of the camp. Baron Ravenford spoke first: "Greetings to this historic day for all." Lord Alden Gwillzeth greets you and apologizes for not being able to attend in person. However, important matters of state have detained him.

"Greetings, distinguished gentlemen, and you, madam," the Lenthian Cavalieur said, in accordance with etiquette. Addressing his final words to Ives de L'Okullus, who couldn't even muster a nod.

"We are pleased that the war is ending and a new chapter in the relations between our lands has begun. Here are the documents guaranteeing the agreements reached yesterday." A young Templar stepped forward, carrying rolled-up parchments, and handed them to Ravenford. He glanced through them briefly and nodded to the dwarf, who patted the hindquarters of the horse the Warlock sat on.

"We thank the Order of Kharonaey," he said, "Mr. Envoy Walverde, and all those who contributed to the signing of this agreement." This is the criminal you're after—he pointed at Xenor, who glared at him—"whom we're handing over to you in the name of a mutual agreement.

" "Enough of this nonsense!"

The Warlock shouted, and as if by magic, he was freed from his shackles. He kicked Ravenford's horse, spread his arms, and shouted an incantation.

From that moment on, events unfolded rapidly. The frightened horses reared, throwing off their surprised riders. Only Walverde regained control of his mount and moved to block the Warlock's path. The necromancer, however, fired a ball of energy at him, knocking Templar and his horse away. I myself landed on the ground next to Lenthian, whose leg had been shattered by the startled horse. The knights guarding the camp tried to stop the Warlock. Two were struck down by another ball of energy, three more, and to their great surprise, she attacked Ives, slashing him from behind. Xenor shouted another incantation, and a veritable storm erupted. Instantly, everything went dark, and lightning struck both orcs and Templars. A terrible wind arose. A burst of lightning hurled my cousin under the hooves of the frenzied orc horses. In the confusion, I couldn't see the Grand Master. Instead, I saw my monk draw his bow and release an arrow at the fleeing Warlock. Strangely, it ricocheted off him and struck Ives, who, in a wild frenzy, slashed at the orcs and Templars trying to pursue the Warlock. She squealed briefly as the arrow struck her just above her right breast, sending her sprawling onto her back. From her shoulder, I could have sworn, a shape resembling a snake detached itself and vanished into the grass. I heard a scream—another spell. It was Walverde's scream. A moment later, as suddenly as it had begun, the storm dissipated. From the distance, we heard a wild shout of triumph and mocking laughter. The Warlock was retreating quickly. Walverde, with a heavily bleeding head wound, leaped into the saddle of a horse that happened to be passing by. He struggled with it for a moment, then set off in hot pursuit of Xenor. Ravenford and two orcs followed like arrows. A moment later, three more Templars joined in, shouting wildly at the animals. The last thing I remember was the sight of my monk wrestling with a gray mare. I fainted

.

Xenor of Ashyria was triumphant. He was brimming with wild joy at his regained freedom. He shouted, still urging on his horse, whose mane was blowing in the wind. The necromancer laughed at the foolishness of his enemies. He rejoiced in their misfortune. He only looked back when he reached the end of the road, which curved between rocks. He saw riders in the distance. He smiled to himself and spurred his horse into an even faster run. I will prepare a fitting welcome for you, he thought, and turned onto the hillside. He sensed his belongings, hidden by the Chamberlain in the bushes nearby. He activated the teleport, from which his staff emerged, glowing with runes. He spurred on his horse, which ran towards the road. He rummaged through his belongings, finding a book bound in hard leather with a silver skull, sneering, on the cover. He opened it, leafing through the pages, finding the one with the correct spell. He raised his hands and cried,

"Lord of Venom, who grants his servants the power of the serpent god, enlighten me and give me the strength to destroy your enemies."

He closed his eyes and uttered an incantation. Around him, the air quivered as if in a heatwave, and the silhouettes of humanoid monsters emerged from the shadows. Xenor continued reciting. He was summoning the worst of all nightmares, the Lich.

When he finished, a strange and terrifying figure stood at his side. Arms crossed across his chest, tipped with long talons, the Lich swayed rhythmically.

"Do you know the price, Necromancer?" the apparition asked.

"I do. What should I call you?

" "Khron.

" "I give you the lives of those who come. Their souls do not interest me. Except for one, the one who leads them is mine. I have a score to settle with him.

" "It shall be done. You will prevail.

" ***

When they reached the hills, Walverde stopped his horse. He looked around the hills.

"He's there," one of the Templars accompanying him pointed to the hill to their left.

"He's not even hiding," remarked the powerful orc, who introduced himself as Nornhak.

"Don't be fooled. He wants us to notice him. He's certainly prepared himself. Be vigilant."

They set off slowly up the hill, abandoning their horses on the road. They followed a winding path that climbed through the bushes that sparsely covered the hill. They noticed movement near the Necromancer.

"He summoned ghosts, or something else," said the second, younger orc, whose black, greasy hair was tied in a thick ponytail.

"When it starts, stay close to me, Orinhak," Nornhak admonished.

"I'll chop up that carved skull of his," Ravenford, who had been silent until now, said gloomily.

"No, Xenor is mine. You watch out for his pack," Walverde announced.

They approached to within twenty paces. Surrounded by a pack of hellish creatures, the Warlock shouted:

"You were wrong to chase me, Knight. You should have stayed on the plain and learned the lesson I taught you.

" "You know well that our paths are forever intertwined, and I will never rest as long as Lhydia bears your burden."

"You're still the same. You believe in the nonsense the Giants have invented," the Warlock snorted mockingly.

"Keep fighting, Necromancer!" Nornhak growled impatiently.

"With the greatest pleasure," Xenor replied, adding quietly to himself, "Since you're in such a hurry to die."

He made a slight movement with his hand, as if inviting his creatures to join in the fun. The silent ones, until then, screamed and charged at the handful of Walverde's companions preparing for battle. The first two crumbled to dust under the spell cast by the Templar, but the pack of ten monsters, who had probably once been humans, continued running.

They tensed in battle. On one side, a handful fought valiantly from an awkward position; on the other, diabolical beasts equipped with sharp claws and fangs attacked furiously from the slope. Walverde took down two that surged forward, almost decapitating them with a single blow. With a graceful pirouette, he passed two more, which, wounded by his own hand, impaled themselves on the orcs' curved swords. On the left, Ravenford, until recently their fierce enemies, and a Templar fought shoulder to shoulder. On the right, the remaining two knights repelled the attacks of halberd-wielding half-ogres.

Walverde approached the Necromancer. He attacked from below. Xenor parried the blow with his staff. Sparks flew. Now, with the other end of his staff, the Warlock struck from above. The animated snake's head missed the Paladin's neck by millimeters. Ending his dodge, Walverde delivered a short slash to the body. Xenor somersaulted backward and laughed throatily.

"You won't win, Paladin! You stand no chance in this fight!"

The necromancer attacked furiously, raining blows on Walverde, which he parried by retreating. At that moment, he took advantage of the Warlock's distraction and kicked him hard in the stomach. Xenor, with a strangled cry, fell backward. The Templar leaped to strike. However, the necromancer rolled to the side, so the blade struck the ground.

"Fool, you don't even know you're losing! Now, Khron! Now!"

A Lich materialized before the Paladin and slashed his claws across the knight's chest. Walverde fell onto his back, feeling the searing pain beneath his chainmail. He knew they stood no chance against the Lich.

"I'm not interested in your soul, mortal creature. However, my agreement doesn't say whether you're to remain whole."

Seeing what was happening, the orcs leaped toward the Lich, who only smiled nastily. With a gesture he immobilized the younger of them and slit his throat.

"Orinhak! No!" the elder orc lunged at the Lich, slashing furiously with his sword. The creature parried the blows with one hand, then, at the right moment, grabbed the orc by the throat with the other. He lifted him up and clenched his fist. Dark red blood gushed from between his claws. He threw the quivering body at Ravenford's feet.

"Quite a game for such an unattractive dimension.

" "Prepare to die, monster!" the Baron shouted and charged at the Lich.

"Ravenford, don't do this!" Walverde shouted, knowing the Lich was immortal in this world. But it was too late. The Lich vanished the moment Ravenford struck. He materialized behind him.

"Behind!" the two Paladins shouted simultaneously, running to the Baron's aid.

Ravenford turned in surprise and only his armor saved him from instant death. He was struck in the right collarbone, and the blow sent him spinning as if in a dance. Walverde crawled over to the groaning Baron and began to drag him as far away from the Lich as possible, who was now fighting the Paladins who were keeping their distance.

"Damn," Ravenford stammered, "I let myself be played like a schoolboy.

" "Don't say anything," said Walverde, who was also struggling with words.

He sought out the Necromancer. He found him nearby, higher up, where the man, his hands raised, was reciting some incantations. He knew that to eliminate the Lich, he had to neutralize Xenor. However, at this distance, he couldn't reach him.

The two battling Paladins kept retreating under the monster's onslaught, which was striking with increasing speed. One of them stumbled and fell, and the Lich quickly stomped on him, preventing him from rising. The distraught Templar thrashed under the monster's onslaught. Finally, he froze, blood gushing from his mouth. The second, knowing he had no chance, fled, but the Lich vanished again, reappearing a moment later in front of the Paladin, digging his claws into his chest and tearing out his heart. The limp body slumped to the ground. The Lich slowly moved toward Walverde and Ravenford, smiling sinisterly.

A little further down the slope, an arrow flew from the bushes. It passed the Lich and soared toward the Warlock. Xenor staggered, caught the arrow in his side in surprise. Struggling to regain his balance, he rasped a spell. A materialized bolt of fire whirred from the Necromancer's hand. It flew through the Lich's body, harmlessly, and struck the bushes from which the arrow had flown, transforming the area into a blazing pandemonium. The Lich stopped and glared, first at the fallen men, then at the Warlock. He attacked, but his clawed hand passed like air through the arm the Paladin had used to shield himself. After a moment, his image flickered strangely, and the monster vanished into thin air with a roar.

Xenor cursed foully and, gasping for air, said:

"No, Paladin, you will not win this fight..."

He made a gesture with his hand, and the roots of the bush Walverde and Ravenford were clinging to broke, and the knights tumbled with a prolonged whistle that drowned out their screams, straight into the gate. The gate closed behind them immediately and collapsed in on itself.

An eerie silence would have followed, if not for the crackling of smouldering branches. The sorcerer leaned heavily on his staff, which once again looked like an ordinary rune-encrusted stick topped with a snake's head. He looked at the arrow protruding from his side and finished quietly:

"...You couldn't have won. A Lich foretold it to me, and they see the future."