He

 

was awakened by the movement of Nidia's head as she nuzzled his shoulder. Dawn was already breaking. A mist hung over the plain, this time as natural as possible. The chill of the morning sent shivers through him. He looked at the sleeping red-haired woman, who captivated him with her beauty. He had never met anyone like her before. Aware of her beauty, which she didn't hesitate to use to achieve her own goals. Intriguing and dangerous, he thought.

The fact that he had spent the night alongside a spy who had been his enemy only yesterday made him feel uneasy. He scolded himself for it. He wanted to get up and return to camp, but when he remembered the night and the moments they had made love, he only hugged her tighter, basking in the warmth of her body. She purred without waking. He remembered Gwillzeth, who at noon today would become the rightful lord of Alden. He wondered how the dragon knew of Kharonaey's true nature. He said he had a sister, Abigail, whom Walverde had never heard of. Was it possible, he asked himself, that Ashtar, this Abigail, and even Kharonaey had something in common. "And many others..." the dragon said. Many? How many? Why had none of his teachers mentioned them? Daviel, the teacher of ancient writing, used to say that it would be a long time before he learned the full truth about the origins of Lhydia's creation. "You will be tormented by doubts and questions to which you will not always know the answers. Follow your heart and you will recognize the signs Kharonaey left for those who prove worthy of learning the ancient knowledge."

The dragon probably knew more. The questions swirling in his mind returned. Walverde was angry. Angry that he had to choose between loyalty to the Templars and his own doubts, which the dragon had sown in his mind. Angry that he was beginning to lose control over matters that directly concerned him. He felt like a small grain of sand in an hourglass, pouring along with the others, driven by a force whose power he could not imagine.

He was roused from his reverie by Nidia's movement, a sign that she was waking up. Purring like a cat, she looked up at him sleepily, smiling sweetly.

"Hello, my lovely giant," she giggled and kissed him tenderly. He wanted to return the kiss, but she wouldn't let him. She quickly sprang from under her Paladin cloak and reached for her clothes. He saw her in all her glory. Lush red hair flowed over slender shoulders, and full breasts covered with goosebumps, with erect, pale nipples. Rounded hips, a flat stomach, and a trimmed tuft of red hair forming a triangle. She stretched vigorously and hurriedly began dressing.

"Brr. Cold. It was very nice to spend this night by your side. However,

remember, I won't allow you to adore me in front of my people."

Walverde slowly followed suit. The morning chill refreshed him. For a while they walked together, holding each other, but as they approached the camp, she pulled away from him.

"You know we may never meet again," she began.

"I know."

Before answering, he looked at her, wanting to memorize her face.

"We come from two different worlds that don't fit together. We can't erase the differences that divide us, but at least on nights like tonight, we can temporarily erase them."

He gave her a sad smile. She smiled back. Unexpected to hear these words from a Templar, a soldier of the order who blindly believed in the mission of saving the world, they moved toward the camp without speaking. They passed armed elves hidden in the grass, greeting their Madame. When they reached the guards posted by Cavalier, she said quietly,

"I'd like to believe I'll see you again, and we'll try to erase the differences between us again.

" They smiled at each other. "I hope so, Madame. Farewell, may Kharonaey favor you.

" "No, may it favor you and allow you to return to these lands again. Farewell, my giant."

He watched her as she walked away. She didn't turn around, and the Paladin wondered if he would ever see this woman again. He returned to the camp.

The sentries recognized him immediately and greeted him, extending their swords hilts toward him. Asked what had happened after his disappearance, they replied that the fog had cleared in the hours after his departure, and Gwillzeth's envoys had returned.

Walverde moved toward the Grand Master's tent, pondering what he should tell him.

***

The corridors, where dozens of slaves still labored to remove the dust and dirt accumulated over the centuries, looked increasingly better. Some of the paintings uncovered on the palace walls depicted terrifying monsters that had lived during Hegzpaar's reign. Scaffolding was everywhere, on which workers bustled, guarded by mountain trolls.

Through the din of the slaves working, the loud shouts of two people supervising the work, clearly hating each other, could be heard.

"You sheephead, just look at these plans! According to them, we should turn the drilling to the right! The machine is already set up, just order your—

" "Never! You sheephead?! How dare you, you fart!"

Kleofas Kopidół swung his whip, but the agile gnome slipped under his hand, avoiding the blow, and kicked the archaeologist in the butt. He cursed viciously and, ignoring the fleeing slaves, began swinging the whip everywhere, cursing the agile gnome.

Suddenly, a muffled growl sounded from behind the rock face, loud and disturbing enough to make the hand holding the whip hang in mid-strike. The slaves gathered by the machine retreated hastily, abandoning their tools. Both scientists looked up at the rock, as if to confirm the sound they had heard was real.

As if on cue, the growl echoed again. It was echoed by the sound of something very large striking a wall. A thought flashed through the archaeologist's mind, one he dared not voice, but which the gnome did instead:

"Have we unearthed a relative of our lord?"

Suddenly, the wall collapsed, and amidst a hail of dust and rocks, a horrific sight met their eyes, draining the blood from their faces. From a large opening, dozens of empty eye sockets, occupied by animated humanoid creatures, peered down at them. With an unpleasant rustling sound, more and more mummified, shuffling creatures emerged from the opening. The tattered rags testified that their owners were not of this world, as did the almost suffocating stench that permeated the corridor.

The scientists, frozen in place, noticed a shape darkening against the opening behind the mass of corpses. The signal for a panicky escape came from the opening, a roar, amplified by the echoes. At the sound of the roar, the slowly moving corpses instantly lunged at the nearest slaves, defying all laws of nature. A piercing shriek erupted, and chaos reigned. The scientists, who had previously hated each other, urged each other on, collaborating like never before, at the speed of a striking snake, they found themselves at the gate, which was now crowded with a significant number of the slaves and their overseers, or at least those who hadn't fallen victim to the bloodthirsty undead.

"Let me through!" the archaeologist roared at the top of his lungs, finally making proper use of his whip, which he began to strike at those crowding the passage.

"Ah, right! Get out, you loser!"

An orc swung his whip at him. The archaeologist wanted to protest such blatant insubordination, but realized the situation they were in. He looked at his companion in horror. He grabbed him by the lapels of his grimy jerkin and shouted,

"Do something, dwarf! Do something! Get me out of here, get me out! I command you!

I command you!"

"Let me go, you rag!"

The gnome struggled in the archaeologist's arms. He turned and saw a horde of undead rushing towards them. With a scream, he threw the gnome towards them and then charged furiously at the crowd.

He glanced back again. Apparently, he hadn't thrown the little gnome as far as he intended, because in three long strides, the gnome was back at him and punched him painfully in the ribs.

"You'd even betray your mother, you son of a bitch!" – the geologist hissed through his teeth and dove

between the archaeologist's legs, clearing a path through the orcs' boots and the slaves' bare feet. The surprised archaeologist stood for a moment, staring at the spot where the gnome had disappeared. Without a second thought, he crawled on all fours after the resourceful geologist. However, he failed to consider the fact that the gnome was almost half his size. The realization that he was stuck and unable to move back, much less forward, reached his mind with the force of a storm surge. In a surge of panic, he began to struggle and scream violently. His screams rose to an even higher pitch when he felt something grab his leg and sink its teeth painfully into his calf.

***

In the courtyard of the castle, whose towers and turrets were surrounded by scaffolding, where workers responsible for restoring the building to its former glory usually bustled about, a battle was now raging. A horde of undead charged the guards, led by the portly orc Baron Fromb Eyckert. It was thanks to him that the panicked troops stopped their panicked flight and, in serried ranks, stopped the reanimated corpses. Among them were the faces of former workers and those of his subordinates who had failed to escape the corridors overrun by the undead.

"Don't break ranks!" the experienced soldier shouted. His authority was stronger than the fear of the onslaught of enemies. He gathered around himself those who hadn't managed to escape in time and wreaked havoc among the poorly armed undead. However, the latter's superiority was overwhelming. There were twice as many of them, and more and more corpses were emerging from the castle gates. Eyckert ordered the guards to retreat towards the main gate as a shadow fell over the courtyard. Both the guards and the reanimated corpses ceased fighting, staring at the graying sky. Above, a dark, bat-winged shape hovered against the thick clouds.

"Sir, you arrive just in time," Eyckert shouted, recognizing Gwillzeth.

"Withdraw your men beyond the gate, Baron," the ruler's voice boomed from the courtyard.

The orcs happily completed their task, retreating in a serried rank. When the last of them disappeared through the gate, a veritable inferno broke loose in the courtyard. The dragon plunged into the horde of undead, its sheer force causing the ranks of corpses to collapse. The blast of air created when the beast braked with its wings caused the leading skeletons to crumble to dust. Gwillzeth gracefully landed in the center of the courtyard. He roared so loudly that the walls of his castle trembled. He spat fiery breath at the horde, and flames lit up the castle and courtyard.

"Return to your proper place!" the dragon roared, and another wave of flames engulfed the courtyard and castle, where flames licked the walls from the windows.

The ruler stepped back and, in a calm yet commanding tone, said,

"Come out to me alone. You, who were once called Jaarzelf the Red."

At first, nothing happened. But after a moment of silence, the sound of bones scraping across the stone floor could be heard in the castle. A dark shape loomed in the gateway, its stature resembling Gwillzeth's. As large as he himself. The orcs gathered at the gate saw a second dragon clumsily step into the courtyard to meet Gwillzeth. Its brown skin, torn in places, revealed whitening bones. However, red eyes gleamed like rubies in its skull.

"The pain burning in my head... ceases... when I eat meat," the creature hissed unpleasantly. "You have had enough of yours... you will share with me... you will share.

" "A fate unworthy of a dragon awaits you, Jaarzelf. Those guilty of this deed will feel my wrath," Gwillzeth said to the revived dragon.

"You should not be here. Your time passed centuries ago. It is a sad sight to see, looking at someone who was my brother."

"I am... a new gift, and meat... yours will soothe the pain."

The monster moved toward Gwillzeth, but its jaws snapped into the void. It flapped its broken wings and looked up, where Gwillzeth hovered above it, saying, "Your time is past," he repeated. "Leave and rest."

Jaarzelf hissed unpleasantly before a wave of saving fire covered the remains of his body. Gwillzeth circled the smoldering remains and spoke: "Fromb, give the orders: Let the slaves clear the corridors. This one. Order a burial in the mountains, let them carve the inscription 'Jaarzelf the Red' on the barrow. Take a few of your men and check the castle; there may still be survivors wandering about—burn them. Then order this Warlock to be brought to me; it's probably his doing.

" ***

"I promised you death, Warlock," the ruler said dispassionately to Xenor, who was held by two guards. "I have changed my mind, though it would give me great pleasure to see you die. However, the Order will take care of that." You have no idea what benefits I gained by agreeing to your exchange. However, I hope the death they prepare for you will be long and painful.

The sorcerer stood there, staring absently into the depths of the cave. He didn't reply. His only thought was to reach the dungeon before dawn. Time was pressing, and if he was to carry out his plan, he had to hurry. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Gwillzeth's words: "Bring out the prisoner. May hell consume you."

It was honey to the Necromancer's ears. As he left the king's chamber, his thoughts turned to the Chamberlain and ordered him to come to the dungeon.

And so he did. When he entered the cell, he saw the Chamberlain waiting for him. He shifted nervously from foot to foot and ordered the guards to leave them alone.

"You will take my things and hide them on the hill at the exit from the plain," Xenor ordered the Chamberlain without further ado as the guards disappeared behind the door.

"Then you must return here. Be careful not to arouse anyone's suspicions." Go, time is running out.

The Chamberlain bowed and, taking the Warlock's belongings, disappeared without a word behind the brass door. He threw the manacles the Chamberlain had brought to the ground. He had to admit that the blacksmith who had made them knew his craft perfectly. He had made a perfect replica of the manacles; even Gwillzeth hadn't noticed the difference.

He sat on the floor and entered a trance. His thoughts quickly drifted to the beautiful Yves. He saw the private chambers of the royal Astrologer.