The next morning the caravan packed up hastily and began to move down the highway towards Wisthelm. They gradually crossed into an area of fertile dells and blooming flowers. The going was more pleasant in this temperate region close to the River of Ice. The strain of carrying heavy packs and armour had weakened even the hardiest of the Queen's men and they allowed the cool air to sooth their aches.
Christill rode beside Dievu who was outside of the carriage enjoying the brisk breeze coming from the east. It had been a while since Christill had ridden Polthus, as he had feared that the ageing horse would lame. But he was glad to see that the mount had pulled through without harm. The fresh winds blew around Christill's ears, cooling his face. Most of all, Christill enjoyed the view. Luscious trees lined the road and grasses of bold greens covered the earth with a tranquil carpet.
The change of scenery represented a change in Christill's life. He proudly wore the quiver that he had been given on his back and held his bow close by. In Christill's mind crossing into this comfortable and serene region of Feldom had been the first step in his journey to becoming a better man. He had left his past behind him.
He rode listening to Dievu's lessons and onwards the caravan moved, now travelling west towards the Wisthelm from their last stop in Rustown. They reached the River of Ice, which ran cold down from the Beon Ranges all the way out to the Sea of Turmoil. They then began their journey into a hilly woodland that the road passed through.
Christill began to wonder what kind of trouble his brother might be getting himself into and reminded himself to write another letter once they reached Wisthelm.
Dievu, riding on Vithanu, came up next to Christill and said, "Ready for another lesson, my eager pupil."
Christill cleared his mind of Thibalt and nodded.
"Very well," continued Dievu. "Today I shall tell you of the unique magic of the Misty Forest. I think that it would…" Dievu suddenly stopped his horse and peered with a worried face into the woods.
Christill stopped and turned Polthus to face Dievu. "What is it, Master?" he asked, but just as he finished the question, a bright flash radiated through the area.
Christill tried to close his eyes but was not quick enough. Blinded, he rubbed his eyes, yet could not see. Screams and shouts of anger sounded in all directions and the few horses in the caravan wailed and reared in the confusion. Christill was thrown from Polthus's back as the horse bucked in panic. Hitting the floor, his vision started to return and gradually he made out the soldiers around him. Many lay motionless on the floor and in the distance more of the Queen's guard fought with a group of masked warriors.
When his eyes finally cleared up he saw that the attackers wore black leather and masks that hid all but their dark eyes. Unsure what to do, Christill scanned the battle for Dievu, but could not see him. He watched the Feldonian soldiers rush into the woods to draw out the masked soldiers, only to see many of them falling to the floor clutching at their throats. He then noticed that the motionless soldiers lying around him had thin needles stuck in their necks.
The guards that had moved to the woods were fighting a losing battle. The attackers were masters of stealth and most of the soldiers fell before they were able to spot their enemy.
"Protect the carriage," came a call from the thick of the battle. Five of the nearest soldiers ran to the carriage and formed a wall at the door, shields held high. Christill scurried up and ran over to the carriage, climbing onto its perch. Taking account of the fight he could see the remaining soldiers fanning out into the trees. It was not far from a massacre. The Queen's guards were fighting phantoms that appeared and disappeared amongst the trees. Needles and arrows flew through the air striking down soldiers as they ran back to protect the carriage.
Dievu then abruptly appeared as he ran from the woods. In the short time since the blinding flash he had managed to don the clawed gauntlets from his armour which were now stained red. His eyes glowed green with magic and in anger he cried, "Out of the forest! Everyone form on the carriage."
Christill spotted an enemy sitting high up in a tree, raining arrows down on the fleeing soldiers. He raised his own bow and retrieved an arrow from behind him. Notching it as fast as he could, he aimed and let loose. The arrow sped off but missed the mark by a good two feet. He pulled out another arrow and this time took his time to aim. The second arrow soared right into the tree and flew passed the assassins face. The archer, shocked by the closeness of the attack, caught sight of Christill and returned a shot.
Christill jumped from the carriage perch, narrowly dodging the arrow, but jarred his arm as he landed on the hard road. He quickly crawled under the carriage for shelter, whilst the remaining soldiers formed a circle around the carriage. Of the guards that had travelled with the Queen, only half remained.
More arrows and needles flew from the phantom assassins in the woods.
"There are magic users amongst them," called one of the soldiers. Moments later he was struck in the chest by an arrow and fell to the ground groaning.
Dievu jumped up onto the carriage and raised his hands high. The green mist that he summoned swirled around him and then shot out in four streams, each striking the ground around the carriage. From each burst of magic came a wall of rippling energy that rose up into the air, forming a square barrier around the men.
As the swarm of missiles continued to shoot from of the trees they struck Dievu's shield and burst into ashes to fall harmlessly to the floor. The Feldonian soldiers cheered as they watched the missiles fall harmlessly against the wall of shimmering magic. Eventually the onslaught from the forest stopped and was replaced by dead silence.
The cheering of the guards stopped and the grim silence took hold of their spirits. None spoke, yet all stood with their swords at the ready. Christill looked out into the trees that all of a sudden seemed to grow dark and denser than before. A cloud of darkness was consuming the woods, obscuring the trees in a hazy mist. The silence continued, bringing their nerves to breaking point. Then out of the trees stepped the assassins.
They did not charge out with their weapons drawn. They simply walked out and formed a line in front of Dievu's barrier. The calm, almost impassive movements of the assassins were more distressing than any battle cry could have been. In almost perfect synchronisation they each drew a long curved blade from their belt and bowed to their enemies. They then removed their masks to reveal their pale faces. All held short cropped black hair with a shockingly pale skin inherited from their harsh homeland.
"Dargonians!" muttered Dievu in a surprise. In front of them stood a line of Primals, Dargonian assassins bred for a sole purpose. Each highly skilled in the art of stealth and murder. "How did so many of them cross this far into Feldom?"
Christill's heart was beating uncontrollably. The only thing standing between them and a painful death was Dievu's magical barrier. He hoped dearly that it was strong enough to repel assassins as well as missiles.
One of the Primals stepped forward. "Give up the Queen and your deaths will be quick and honourable," he announced. "You have fought bravely and there is no need to make this harder than it need be. We will allow you to join your fallen brethren in the Third Plane."
Dievu raised his voice and angrily replied, "Tell your King that the Alliance will never bow down to the requests of Dargon. We will never make bargains with treacherous dogs."
The assassin smiled. "As you wish."
At the leader's command, a bolt of red energy screamed out of the woods with a shrill roar and smashed into Dievu's magical barrier. The blast echoed loudly through the air and shattered the barrier. The force of the blast pushed the Feldonian guards into the carriage, almost toppling it over. Dievu jumped from the carriage roof and readied himself for the fight. "Stand strong!" he shouted to the soldiers. "Protect the Queen!"
The Primals charged at the defenders and smashed into their shields. Using their agility to their advantage they dodged around the heavily armoured guards, who struggled to keep up. Their
curved swords sliced and tore at the guards who were forced back. Despite fighting bravely they where outmanoeuvred and outnumbered by the assassins.
Dievu used his powers to speed through the fight, tearing through the black leather of the Primals with his vicious gauntlets. He was a blur on the battlefield, striking out so quickly that his victims were given little time to react.
Christill, still huddled underneath the carriage, remained terrified. He then noticed that the Primal commander was working his way towards the carriage. Christill shuffled to check the door and found that only two of the guards remained beside it, holding off the countless attackers.
With the commander drawing nearer and the Feldonian numbers falling rapidly, Christill panicked and jumped up to the carriage door. He reached out to open the door and leapt inside. The Queen jumped with a fright and Christill found a dagger at his throat. "It is me," he quickly cried.
The Queen sank back into her seat, sweat covering her face. "Christill, I fear that our time is up," she said gravely.
Christill dropped his head. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that everything was going to be alright, but he did not believe that. The horrid sounds of the fight carried through the carriage walls from outside. The Queen drew a second dagger from a small box and handed it to Christill. He accepted it. "We will die as honourable Feldonians," she said.
Christill smiled as best he could. "I will protect you," he said, though his voice betrayed his own lack of faith. He then pulled up his bow and notched an arrow, aiming at the door.
The door burst open and seeing the black armour of the Primals, Christill let loose. The arrow slammed into the leather armour of the assassin commander. He looked down at the arrow sticking from his chest with a look of astonishment. The look then turned to hatred as he raised his sword to attack. Christill moved in front of the Queen and held up the dagger she had given him, hands shaking in fear. The commander swung, but stopped halfway as a dark green gauntlet grabbed his neck from behind and scratched at his throat.
Dievu pushed the choking commander out of the way and looked into the carriage. "Triel, we must leave now," he said urgently. Christill and the Queen jumped out of the carriage and saw the fighting was still underway. A handful of guards bravely held the deadly Primals at bay.
"We cannot hold them for long. Take Vithanu and get the Queen to Wisthelm as quickly as you can," urged Dievu.
Christill nodded and ran to Dievu's horse. He mounted as quickly as he could and lifted the Queen up behind him. The attackers seeing the Queen making her escape rushed towards them. Dievu raised his hand, palm forward, and sent forth a bolt of magic which engulfed the Primals. He opened his hand and then clenched his fingers causing the magic to morph into barbed coils of energy, that wrapped themselves around the assassins, holding them to the spot. "Go now!" he screamed at Christill. "I cannot stop them for long."
Christill turned Vithanu and urged him forward. They sped away from the battle, heading back towards the river. Gradually the sounds of the fighting faded and as he peered behind he felt as though they had avoided pursuit.
"Do you think that Dievu will make it back?" asked Christill.
The Queen shook her head. "I do not know...How could this happen?"
Christill shook his head, unable to find words.
"So many Dargonians in the middle of our nation. I have never heard of such a thing. How could they have passed through the Ranges unchecked?" asked the Queen, her voice faltering.
Christill sighed and urged Vithanu to go faster, but instead the horse skidded to a stop. "What are you doing?" cried Christill. Vithanu began to snort viciously and stamped his feet in ill temper. "What in the world has gotten into you?"
As he peered down the road, he found his answer.
Standing calmly in the centre of the road was a man in long red robes that dusted the road at his feet. His hood was drawn back, showing a gaunt face with pale Dargonian skin. A pointed beard covered the bottom of his chin and his eyes were sunken back into his head, giving him an unnerving appearance. Something about the man spoke to Christill of a hidden malice. The markings of an eight pointed star, the symbol of the god Gushkall covered the man's robes, marking him a disciple of Gushkall.
Christill drew his bow and readied an arrow. "You would do well to move out of the way, stranger," he cautioned.
The robed figure frowned. "I haven't the time for this nonsense," he said bitterly. He raised his hand and sent an orb of red energy at Christill. It swiftly struck Christill's head and entered his body. Instantly a spasm of pain ran through Christill causing him to fall from the saddle to the ground. Another spasm pulsed through his head causing him to scream out. The Queen could only watch in horror as Christill writhed on the floor from the excruciating pain.
The robed man walked up to the Queen and forced her down from Vithanu. She tried to struggle but he firmly clubbed her to the back of the head, knocking her unconscious. The man then began to walk off with the Queen in his arms. Christill saw him walking away but was powerless to stop him. The pain increased in magnitude until one final spasm struck him with so much force that he fell into darkness.