IV

 

News of Xenor's victory spread like lightning to all corners of the Realms. The population, practically defenseless, hastily abandoned their homes, fleeing westward, where they sailed to the islands of Earthland and southeastward to the Land of Lokher, where the population could seek refuge in the higher mountain ranges and deep forests. Some were taken into Templar strongholds, where they could effectively defend themselves for a longer period.

The Horde rapidly occupied new territories. Only Charlesdam, the largest city of Lhydia, had not yet succumbed to the onslaught of the Warlock's forces. The conquest of the Lands of Windhir, Everwood, eastern Abadoonth, and Shivas was only a matter of time. Earthland itself could not resist the invader for long. After the defeat at Ravenhill, the door to conquering all of Lhydia lay open to Xenor.

The news spread like wildfire to Salenhorn, where, as a sign of mourning for the death of the fortress's Grand Master, Count Amn Fjoldshoff, the banner was lowered to half-mast. Great sadness and dejection reigned throughout the island. They mourned the fallen Paladins and all those who had perished in the Battle of Ravenhill. That same night, a feverish Nedal woke Khail.

"They've defeated the entire army of the Lands! Utterly! "

The deeply sleepy Paladin awoke in an instant, sitting up in bed.

"I ordered your belongings prepared. You're no longer safe here. Sail to Earthland. I'll give you the fastest ship and a trained crew, the finest sea dogs—the elves."

An hour later, the Walverdes were loading their friends' belongings onto the ship. When everything was below deck, Bettlehorn arrived, accompanied by one of the monks.

"What was it you wanted to leave me behind?

" "A painful oversight. But I don't know if there's room on board for so much junk." - said Walverde, pointing to the trunk held by the monk.

"But one small trunk will surely fit somewhere."

Walverde turned to Nedal, who had taken his place following the Grand Master's death. For now, it's only temporary, because according to the rules of the Order of the White Lily, the nomination for Grand Master of Salenhorn can only be received at the meeting of the Grand Chapter in Earthland by the Order's Supreme Master, Prince Anathorn de Waey. During the turmoil of war, he would receive the nomination in three days at most. Falcons were now traveling between Templar strongholds, one after another, carrying orders, messages, and reports from various outposts.

"I am grateful for your hospitality and assistance, my friend," he said.

"Don't thank me. You have found the boy in whom we see our only hope. Protect him and bring him to Earthland, or perhaps even Indhirland. This is how you will repay us. And, if Lady Kharonaey permits, we will meet again in this world.

" "Farewell, my friend." May Kharonaey grant you favor.

"And may she send you favorable winds. Farewell!"

They set sail without incident. Within sight of shore, they sailed along the coast south to Earthland. The weather was favorable. A strong northerly wind pushed them swiftly in their chosen direction. The ship's captain, Rinnath Elaval, was an experienced sailor. He had skillfully calculated that if the wind remained constant, they would reach their destination in two days at most. Besides the Paladin, the mage, young Mitch, and his parents, Elaval had taken on board the ship other people marked with the marks of Kharonaey. A refugee from Charlesdam, Boniface Sticky Hands, a former member of the Thieves' Guild, who had also encountered Xenor on his journey to the barrow of Asthara in the far north. And also a merchant from Earthland, who happened to be in Neshil when the horde attacked. The ship's crew consisted of ten experienced sailors, eight elves and two humans - inhabitants of Salenhorn.

On the second day of their journey, a large sea serpent appeared near the ship, causing panic among the crew. Elaval shouted urgent orders, which his crew quickly put into action. The ship turned toward shore. The captain hoped the serpent would not notice them and that they would be able to move to a safe distance, closer to shore, where the shallower water would be a barrier for the beast. But with fluid movements, the serpent quickly closed the distance between them, and after a few moments, during which everyone had already recited a series of prayers to various deities, it swam toward the ship. Armed with boathooks and harpoons, the sailors crouched by the railings stared at the sea creature, whose body, shimmering with green scales, appeared and disappeared in the sea. The serpent was now very close. It thrust out a huge, whiskered head, armed with a maw bristling with needle-sharp fangs. It hung above them on a long, dripping neck, blocking out the hazy sun. Yellow eyes stared for an eternity at the sailors, who crouched down as best they could. Bettlehorn stepped forward, raising both arms high, and began reciting a verse in some forgotten language that even Walverde couldn't recognize. The beast roared, its gills at the back of its head flaring. The mage screamed loudly, drawing a complex pattern in the air to complete the chant. A strange mist enveloped the ship. The serpent roared again and leaped over the ship, plunging into the water on the other side. They looked back. It surfaced a few fathoms (!?), spraying water further. It circled them again, then swam out into the open sea. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Elaval approached the mage and said,

"You saved us, wizard."

"A trifle.

" "We could have been his dinner," said another elf, called Razmus. "They never swam this close to shore."

"True, Elaval supported him." "It's fortunate that there are fewer and fewer of them. They supposedly once ruled the seas. I even heard a story about one, they called it Elgiarnock. It sailed into the backwaters near the Northern Star and sank Serafinn's ships and boats for days. Until the king sent half his flotilla, which defeated the beast in a great battle. Its huge scales could still be seen in the castle's throne room until recently.

Other passengers also listened to the conversation. Mitch stayed close to his mother, and only at the sound of the words about the Northern Star did his eyes widen. He approached the captain and asked,

"Will you tell me the story, sir?

" "And the story right there!" his father shouted at him. "Just stories in your head, you good-for-nothing!"

"Leave your son alone," Elaval replied. "I'll tell you tonight, when it's time for dinner."

Mitch was delighted, but after a moment his eyes clouded over, which Bettlehorn was the first to notice, approaching the child.

"The sea creature is greatly disturbed," the boy spoke in a voice unfamiliar to him. "A force, still weak, but growing, draws them to the shores. They hear a call. A call of power."

Suddenly he awoke and looked at the people around him. He rubbed his hand where the mark, now slightly red, had been. Tears welled in his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Don't be afraid, boy," the magician consoled him. "Sometimes some of us, like you, marked by Lady Kharoaey, have... Hmm, strange visions or dreams. It's nothing serious. There's really nothing to fear."

His mother hugged the boy to her chest and led him below deck. Bettlehorn looked at the Paladin, who smiled sadly.

"An art of magic," the Paladin said. "But older than the one you tried to teach me.

" "True. I once spent time in eastern Khaz, where I met a certain Salladin Khaleb ibn Khali." He taught me a few spells. Their knowledge is significantly different from ours"—he raised a finger—"You see, different, not better."

By evening, Mitch had forgotten the incident and, with rapt attention and a flushed face, listened to the captain's story about the beast from the Northern Star.

The rest of the journey passed without incident. Once, they observed another sea serpent, which appeared far on the horizon but did not approach the ship. They reached Earthland in the evening. The harbor was quite crowded. A multitude of ships waited to enter or leave.

Earthland was always a busy city. The westernmost one was a kind of crossroads of sea routes. A short distance from the coastline lay three islands: Khalend, Earthville, and Indirsville. On each of them, the Templars had built strongholds, connected, as people said, by underground tunnels. There were also strongholds on the mainland. In the land's capital, one in the north, one in the south, and two in the east. This was where the headquarters of the Order of the White Lily was located, where the remnants of the Order's forces were concentrated, and where new reinforcements arrived from all the lands of Lhydia. Besides these, throngs of refugees flocked, pursued by isolated units of the horde, the vanguard of Xenor's black claws. A tension hung in the frosty air, thickening with each passing hour, hanging like an axe over this still-free land. If one looked fearfully north, even on the brightest day, one saw a black horizon, churning restlessly.

On the central island of Earthville, a lighthouse had been built, now towering over the harbor, beaming a light for errant sailors. The Templars were not allowing any refugees onto the islands. This decree was issued by the Grand Master of the Order, Prince Erick de Lokhe. People from surrounding principalities and kingdoms gathered throughout Earthland. The horde was expected to attack within three days. Meanwhile, final preparations were underway to repel the attack. Anyone capable of carrying a sword had already been properly instructed on where and whom to report to in the event of an attack. Reinforced guards patrolled the walls, and the castle gates were tightly closed for the night. Everyone entering was checked; few left the city, mostly knights on reconnaissance missions.

Only after an hour did they reach shore, where shouting officers tried to control the chaos in the harbor. Naturally, they were allowed through out of turn. They passed a large group of people haggling with guards and headed straight for the Grand Master's headquarters, whose towering tower dominated the city, and a banner embroidered with a silver lily on a black background fluttered in the stiff breeze. It was overcast. Heavy, dark clouds were rolling in from the north. Walverde knew all too well what they meant. Xenor was growing in power, and it was only a matter of time—a very short time—for the horde to conquer Earthland.

At the Order building, they learned that, by His Excellency's will, they were to be immediately transported to Earthville and quartered there. All except Khail, whom the Grand Master would receive in the chapter hall, where all the lands' dignitaries had been meeting for two days.

The Paladin bade farewell to his friends, promising little Mitch that he would join them as soon as possible. Betllehorn, in turn, promised to look after the boy and conduct the necessary research on his gift as soon as possible.

Two specially dispatched Paladins escorted them back to the harbor. Walverde, meanwhile, headed for the council chamber. He only detoured to the kitchen, where he grabbed a piece of cheese and a jug of milk from the table, as he was beginning to feel hungry.

In the council chamber, many seats around the enormous table were empty. These were the seats of the Order's dignitaries who had fallen in the Battle of Ravenhill. The remaining participants were discussing the future fate of the lands. The Paladin recognized some of them: Radislav the Grey, whom he knew quite well, as he was the Order's secular head, the King of Earthland. Beside him sat Khalim the Old, equally venerable but possessed of piercing eyes, the ruler of the neighboring land of Braasth. Also present were Rinavald ad Engelheard, Prince of Everwood, and his father, King Lokher. Also seated were Sorren Hollowdsen, Still de Horre of Myrd, Valentine de Vey of Barkhadd, the mage Matthiss of the Crimson Fields, who had been wounded on Ravenhill, along with the king of the already conquered Land of Windhir. And the proud elven prince Amvin and his son Delvin. The Grand Master of the Order, Erick de Lokhe, presided over the proceedings. On his side sat the other newly appointed Masters from the strongholds in Everwood, Braasth, Windhir, and Alden.

All of them, the Paladin noted, wore tired faces. They must have been without sleep for dozens of hours. He thought.

"Greetings, boy," the Grand Master always treated him with a fatherly air. "Gentlemen, the fact that Khail Walverde is among us gives us a glimmer of hope. I presume the boy is already on board the ship and heading for Earthville?"

The Paladin nodded and took a seat next to his Master.

"As you can see, we are preparing this last bastion of the Realms for the horde's attack. We know it won't be much use, but if we can just delay the advance of Xenor's dogs, we may gain some time to learn the boy's power and how to use it."

The Master turned to the new Master from Everwood, whom he called Mhail, sitting next to him.

"Please brief Khail on the situation.

" The horde struck across the width of Lhydia. All the major centers have either already fallen or, like Salenhorn, will soon fall. Ard, Charlesdam, Alden, and Brentnore are still fighting. From the south, where the traitor Lazahar has taken over Hedhorn, an army of Ashtar's followers is also approaching. Your friend, sir, Lenthian Cavalieur, fell there. While trying to retake the fortress.

Walverde paled but said nothing. He had recognized Lenthian when he was pursuing Xenor in Aldenhorn. An awkward silence fell, broken by the Grand Master:

"We have all lost friends, but there is no time to mourn them," he said. "We must concentrate on life and its defense... Even if we are at a disadvantage," he added in a subdued voice.

During the further deliberations, Walverde recounted his expedition, tracking Xenor in the northern Lhydian Lands, in the duchy of (???). Furthermore, they discussed tactics and the chances of defending the entire Land late into the night. The moon, if it could be seen through the thick, oil-like clouds, had long since disappeared below the horizon.

The next day, Walverde was awakened by a knock at his door. A servant sent to fetch him on his way told him of a horde attack on the northern and southern strongholds. Both had repelled the attack for now, but were now on their own, cut off from potential reinforcements. News also reached the capital of mysterious winged beasts that would surprise travelers without strong guards. He met the Grand Master in the kitchen, where he and his servants were eating.

"You probably already know the news," he greeted him with his mouth full. "Forgive me for entertaining you here, but lately I've been enjoying eating with the commoners.

" "That's fine, Master. I've eaten in various places along the way.

" "I'd like you to lead the defense of the city when the horde arrives.

" "I'm glad I'll be able to stand alongside the most distinguished heads of the Realms in the fight against the horde."

"But you are to retreat." You will not take an active part in the fight." Walverde looked at his superior, unable to understand.

"My Lord! I will be more useful on the front lines. "

The prince nodded.

"I know, I know, but you are too valuable to us. You have a great relationship with the boy, and it is his protection that you are responsible for.

" "But...

" "Enough!" the Master cut him off. "This is an order.

" ***