Read The Greylands: Volume IV Page 2

  All the Hopes of Men:

  The rolling hills spread out before him as a blanket carelessly tossed upon the floor, colorful blocks of autumn oak and maple interspersed with harvest fields and meadows golden in the setting sun. It was a beautiful, peaceful place and for a moment he thought to regret interrupting such tranquility but his mission suddenly flared anew in his heart and he knew he could cherish no such thought, for the folk in the valley below would long rue such a careless decision. His faithful mount seemed to know his mind and began his descent into the quiet paradise before them, with the full intention of interrupting the pastoral solitude that lay in the vale below.

  The next morning found the whole Province abuzz with the news that a stranger had come in the night and was making a nuisance of himself upon the village green. There had not been such a stir since Heinrich’s pigs had torn up the Mayor’s pumpkin patch and Heinrich blamed the Mayor for his pigs’ indigestion and subsequent poor thrift, never mind the wreck the beasts had made of the Mayor‘s prize pumpkins; even twenty years later there was still a chill between the families concerned whenever they met in public. The whole countryside was in uproar and the sun was barely up. In the first place, he was a stranger and no stranger had a right to enter this long forgotten valley without a very good reason. Secondly, he had no right to stand upon the Green as if he owned it; did it not belong solely to the inhabitants of the village? And lastly, what did the fool mean by his insane proclamations? Danger to the valley?

  These folk had not known war or danger for many hundreds of years though such were common enough in the outer world, this forgotten corner had been spared such horrors by its remote location and the inaccuracy of maps in those days which declared the whole region an impassable, disease ridden swamp. Telling the inhabitants thereof that imminent danger was upon them unless they acted quickly was like trying to explain snow to someone living in the very south of the world where such a phenomenon had never occurred. Unsurprisingly, most took offense at his presumptions.

  By midmorning, the entire population of the Province had turned out to see and hear this strange fellow, most had never seen a stranger before though their grandparents might reminisce on occasion of such an occurrence back in the bygone days of their own childhood. Many were eager for the chance to have such a tale of their own to pass on in fifty years or so. The man stood his ground, though many had made it clear that he was not welcome; he would not, could not leave until his mission had been accomplished but it did not seem likely that any would cooperate with his scheme, even to save their own lives. He had never encountered such insular and stubborn folk! He persisted however and continued to plead over their protests, “but you must listen! Hear you not that your own destruction is at hand? At least one of you must stand forth and make ready for that which is to come. None can save you but one of your own, more would be better but at least one man must do this needful thing!”

  They listened for a time, but as the day grew warm their patience and interest waned and gradually the crowd dispersed about their long neglected chores until only four boys remained with the man on the Green. The man looked hopefully at the trio but it was clear by their sneers and private joking that they remained only to heckle; he then turned to the fourth boy who stood awkwardly off to one side, as if he knew not what to do with himself. The man sighed, knowing his words fell on deaf ears as far as the other lads were concerned, so leaving his oratory he made his way towards the nervous seeming lad and the trio of mockers laughed all the more while the singleton looked ready to flee in terror.

  “Stay your flight lad,” said the man gently, “you need neither fear me nor the jibes of your friends yonder. You look like a man with a question.”

  The boy brightened at this description of himself, for he was small for his age and thin besides; the doctor blamed his frailness on a weak heart, but that did not stop his peers from finding various ways to twit him about his size, but his physical appearance was the least of their reasons to hate and mock him. He answered the man nervously, “I would not presume to speak with such an esteemed personage as yourself Sir, but my mother bid me thus to ask you if you would stay with us if no one else would have you.”

  The man smiled warmly at this request, saying, “I would be most honored, especially as all your folk seem to think I carry the Pox or some such with their cold reception this morning.”

  The lad cautioned, “all we have you are welcome to share, but I must warn you it is not much.”

  The man laughed warmly, “lad, your hospitality alone shall make my stay most enjoyable even with the meanest of fare and roughest of shelter.”

  The boy returned the smile tenfold and together they made their way towards the ramshackle cottage on the edge of town. The boy’s mother greeted them at the door though even such a slight effort seemed to pain her greatly; she suffered much with pain in her joints but never did she complain or much allow her son to see her discomfort though he guessed more of her suffering than she hoped he ever would. She welcomed their guest warmly into the humble shack and made him as comfortable as circumstances would allow. The evening meal was plain but nourishing and long did they stay up round the fire as the man told many a tale and asked after the woman’s own sad story. She smiled bravely and blinked back tears and told of a husband who had taken to banditry in the outlands, and who had undoubtedly been killed in such an act. She barely made mention of their meager existence and the antipathy of their neighbors in their plight, for in their opinion, being a bandit’s widow was as bad as being a thief yourself. The neighborhood children went so far as to call the boy, ‘Brin, Brin the robber’s son.’

  Continued she, “you speak of imminent disaster Sir? You say that it cannot be stopped save by some brave soul from amongst our own folk?”

  The man nodded grimly, “aye Madam, and none of your folk seem to take me seriously but it was for this very purpose I was sent.”

  She shook her head gravely, “these folk know little of true evil and danger, for rarely has it touched their usually pleasant and boring lives. They think that living in such bounty and relative peace means they are forever entitled to such bliss and rightly deserving of it, therefore it is assured to continue. You sound a lunatic who only wishes to upset their rather dull lives for your own vicious ends.”

  The boy had listened with wide eyes and then boldly proclaimed, “I would go if I were not so weak and my mother could survive without me, but alas it cannot be so.”

  His mother turned to him with eyes burning with pride, “oh child, I could bear anything for such a heart as yours.”

  The stranger smiled warmly, “it is not a question of strength but of heart lad. If you can commit to such a quest with a bold and honest spirit, we can find a way to take care of your mother.” The boy seemed to glow and his mother fought valiantly to restrain her grief in anticipation of their parting, for she knew somehow that this thing must be.

  “I will go,” said the boy excitedly, but then more cautiously he asked, “what am I to do and where am I to go?”

  The man smiled, “a thoughtful man as well as a bold one, very good. You must leave your valley and go into the outer world to learn there what you must to save your home. Once you start upon your road, your path will not be hidden from you.” The man sobered and said quietly, “you must know this is a dangerous quest and likely the end of your part in all you once knew and loved, but only thereby may it be saved.”

  The boy nodded grimly, “I understand, it is only my mother’s feelings that might yet restrain me, for it is not my heart alone I risk.”

  Unshed tears shone in her eyes as she said, “this is a great and needful thing you shall attempt, and it must be risked. My own pain is a small price to pay for the salvation of our folk.”

  The boy nodded firmly, “then I shall attempt this thing, whatever it is, no matter the risk or the end.”

  The man smiled d
eeply, “then your mother has reason to be proud, though I fear she shall buy it through much sorrow, but joy ever comes with the morning. We had best get some rest lad and I shall tell you more in the morning.”

  Morning came, though the boy and his mother had slept little, one for excitement and the other for sorrow. As the boy was busy about his morning chores, the man asked quietly of his mother, “you have a question you would ask, but not in front of your son?”

  She nodded sadly, “he is all I have and I am willing to give him up if it is for so noble a cause, but I must know by whom or for what purpose you were sent ere I can let him go with a good will.”

  The man nodded in understanding, “that is also something I must discuss with the boy before he sets off. I ride for the Master and the boy must also, or all shall be lost.”

  She smiled sadly then, “then it is truly a miracle that you have found us, for of all folk hereabouts we are the only ones with such faith. The general consensus is that the Creator has bestowed great blessings upon our folk because of our innate goodness, and thus are we content to bask in our own glory and only give lip service to the true Source of all we have and enjoy, while truly thinking Him a myth or at least a distant and indifferent God. If trouble were truly to arise, most would abandon what little faith they have and complain bitterly that there truly must be no such Being if such discomfort can come so undeservedly upon the very best of men. Thus, your quest would have been a vain one had you not come upon us, for my son and I know quite differently.”

  The man smiled deeply, “nay lady, it was not a miracle but Providence that led me to you. That and your own generous heart, which shows you are truly what you claim to be. May you never lack food in your cupboard or fuel for your fire for being willing to give up that which is most precious to you, even to your own ruin.” She smiled at him then, as if appreciating this strange blessing but knowing it could be nothing more than hopeful words. She was quite astonished to be proven wrong in days to come, for long after her son had left her, she never wanted for anything in his absence though she was at a loss to say how these things came to be.

  He left her then, parting with such warmth and concern that she was much saddened to see him go, but she knew he could not long linger for the sake of all her folk. He went out to the boy and after discussing things of a metaphysical nature, once satisfied, he bid the lad return to his mother to say his farewells and then it would be off to the village to procure what was needed for the long, strange journey that undoubtedly lay before him. There were many tears at this final parting but his eagerness drove him quickly from his mother’s desperate arms and off towards the unknown. The man gave him instructions on what he might need and coin enough to procure it and what to do thereafter.

  “Are you not coming with me?” gasped the stymied boy.

  The man smiled sadly, “nay lad, I have duties elsewhere and this is a journey we each must make alone.”

  The boy nodded solemnly and dashed off towards town to see what he could find to aid his journey. The man followed at a distance, knowing his presence might turn the townsfolk against the boy and make his errand more difficult but also wishing to ward the boy from any unforeseen danger that might be lurking about and hoping to somehow prevent his adventure.

  The boy dashed into the village and began making his rounds of the various shops and craftsmen, seeking out that which the man had instructed him to find. The tradesmen were quite astonished that the usually penniless boy now had money to spend. They were suspicious, but eager for the business, so reluctantly filled his various orders but only after being paid in advance. The boy loitered about one of the shop windows wondering what else he might possibly need when he caught sight of an enigma, for there was another stranger in the village; two in one lifetime, let alone in two days! But this was not a bold man, but a rather thin, lithe boy in plain but well made clothes of a stylish cut and of expensive fabric. Besides his outlandish apparel, there was something strange in the way he moved and carried himself. He was bold and confident, carrying himself as if he owned the world but there was a grace and lightness about him that was foreign to most boys of any age. In fact, Brin had only ever seen such a mien in the aspect of certain young women. This new stranger felt Brin’s eyes upon him and turned a pretty, curious face towards him. Brin blushed and dropped his gaze, knowing this strange boy to be in fact a girl, clad in boy‘s clothing.

  Curiosity drove him to look up once more and he saw her smiling in vast amusement at his discomfiture. She crossed the distance that remained between them and said boldly, “this is rather a dull place I fear.” He gaped at her in wonder, not knowing quite what to say to this paradox before him. She laughed gaily, “I suppose you never have strangers in this part of the world, most especially bold young women wearing trousers?” He nodded dully, as if slow of wit. She laughed the more, “well, I suppose that accounts for your strange reaction, but I must say, I am rather disappointed to find no adventure here at the ends of the earth.”

  Brin finally found his tongue, “why on earth would you think to find an adventure here?”

  She smiled, “I am not sure, just a wild hope I suppose, but it is one of the remotest and least explored places in the world, at least to outlanders. Anyway, I needed some destination when I fled my father and I thought here was perhaps more interesting than most places, or at least it was a place he is unlikely to look for me.” Brin gaped, he could not imagine anyone willingly running away from a father when he was nearly desperate for such a relationship. She saw his consternation and said quietly, “my father is a cruel and powerful man, and was ready to marry me off to a man even worse than himself merely for the power it would bring him. I had no choice but to run away.” Brin nodded in understanding, thinking his own father must have had a similar character, and wondering what their relationship would have been like had the man ever returned.

  She looked more closely at her new met companion, “you look as if you are preparing for a journey.”

  He nodded, suddenly remembering his own strange errand, saying, “yes, I am off into the wide world this very day. You came here looking for adventure, but alas I must leave this place and go in search of it, for none else will.”

  She brightened, “then let me go with you. There is nothing of interest to keep me here and you certainly cannot go venturing into the wide world alone, knowing nothing about it, for I doubt you have ever left this small corner of the world.”

  He smiled gratefully at her, but before he could answer, a sneering male voice said, “I am not sure who is more the fool! This girl thinking you could possibly survive very long in the outer world or you for attempting such a journey.” The trio of boys that had lingered on the Green the previous day had discovered both the new stranger and Brin’s odd shopping spree. They were the sons of the richest and most influential men in the village and felt it their duty to keep those they saw as their inferiors in their place. They had listened to the strange man with contempt but had dared not confront such an intimidating, confident man directly, but the widow’s son and a strange girl in boy’s clothes were quite another matter. Besides, Tyne, the chief among them, thought the girl rather pretty despite her strange garb and was a tad jealous that she saw anything of interest or worth in so pathetic a person as Brin.

  Clara drew herself up imperiously and said, “you have no business meddling in my affairs or his. Be gone, cad.” All four of the boys looked at her in astonishment, never having heard a true lady speak in such a manner.

  Tyne snorted and said, “what interest could you have in Brin, Brin the Robber’s son?”

  She lifted her chin, crossed her arms, and said coldly, “that is no concern of yours. I said be gone!”

  Tyne turned his venom on Brin, snarling, “and what about you?”

  Her insolence was contagious as Brin replied, “the lady has asked you to go, and she is correct in saying it is n
one of your affair. Farewell!”

  Aghast and agape, Tyne actually motioned for his cronies to follow him away from the unshakable pair. Where had Brin found such courage? The weakling had never dared stand up to such bullying before, even to defend his own parents. What had come over him? No matter, as it seemed he would soon be gone and would likely meet a worse fate than his ignoble sire, it was of little consequence. But where did he get the money and the courage for such an adventure? Perhaps they should listen more closely to this stranger and see if there was more to the story than they had at first assumed. Kipril watched the exchange from the shadows and smiled to see the taunted pair handle the situation so well. He let the pair secure Brin’s final purchases away in his pack and then gave them enough time to be well out of the village before resuming his unwelcome presence on the Green.

  He was not surprised when Tyne and his minions were the first to approach him while the rest of the villagers seemed quite indifferent to his presence this morning. Said the boy, “how in the world can you send that wretch out into the wilds of civilization? He is pathetic and will not last a week in the wide world!”

  Said the man calmly, “none else would go.”

  Tyne drew himself up to his full, not insignificant height and said, “if that fool is fit to go, so also are we.”

  Kipril shook his head grimly, “nay lad, it is not a matter of strength but of heart. That boy has a great heart for his mother, his Master, and all his indifferent folk, but yours seeks only its own good. I am afraid such a journey is not for you.”

  Tyne seethed, “how can you keep me from going when yesterday you were very nearly begging the aid of anyone who might deign to hear you?”

  The man shook his head, “I cannot prevent you from leaving your village, that is quite true, but I will not be responsible for whatever fate befalls you in the wide world. Go, if you feel you must but it shall be upon no quest of my making.”

  Tyne frowned, “what is all this blather about great hearts and the so-called Master?”

  Kipril smiled sadly, “that is what the Master seeks lad, above all else is a humble and obedient heart. That is what is required of anyone who dares to go on this ill-fated adventure.”

  Tyne snorted, “come man, be sensible! We all know the Maker is a myth.”

  The man shook his head, “believe that to your own destruction. Listen to the tales I shall tell hereafter and then perhaps you will have much to think on.” The boy shook his head in exasperation and stormed off the Green. Kipril gazed sadly after the retreating boys but soon began telling the old tales with such skill and fervor that the reluctant villagers could not help but listen and be moved.

  For three days he held forth in this manner until the villagers tired of his prattling and drove him from the town square. At first they had been moved by his tales, but soon the stories began to nag at their hearts and minds, which irritated them greatly and forced them to act against the man who so stirred the deeps of their usually dull souls. They were well content with their material riches and needed no spiritual yearnings to disturb their comfort. Kipril retreated into the surrounding woods at this sudden outpouring of anger from his former audience. He sighed heavily, knowing the time had come for him to leave the valley and its inhabitants to themselves. He had accomplished that for which he was sent and now it was up to them to determine what they would do with the things he had said. A great pain erupted in his side and drew his thoughts violently back to the present situation. He collapsed to his knees and reached for the sword that was not there as he gazed up into the face of his attacker.

  A figure cloaked all in black stood over him with his sword raised for the killing stroke, as he cackled in delight, “this is the price for interfering in my master’s business! So shall it also be for the wretch you sent upon a vain and hopeless quest.” Before the vile man’s stroke fell and the darkness seized him, Kipril caught sight of Tyne and his two friends watching with horrified but curious eyes. The fell deed was done and the stranger lay unmoving at the dark man’s feet; he suddenly turned to confront the boys behind him, saying, “and what of you lads? Would you end as this fool? Or would you seek something far greater?”

  Tyne said curiously, “I am willing to listen.” The dark man smiled within the depths of his hood, sending a chill down the spine of each of the three boys.

  Brin and Clara had been walking along for several days, off upon their as yet unknown adventure, but the weather was lovely and the scenery breathtaking, which stirred something within their young hearts that felt adventuring must be the most wonderful thing in all the world. It did not hinder their cause that each also found a good companion in the other. For the first time in his life, Brin felt himself truly alive with the exhilaration of budding manhood, a vital purpose, and a natal romance. His dreams suddenly turned to horror when a sharp pain erupted in his side and forced him gasping to the ground. The sound of galloping hooves, Clara’s terrified scream, and the mocking laughter of their assailants only served to increase Brin’s certainty that this must be a nightmare, but he knew it was horrifyingly real.

  He saw three men, darkly clad and masked, ride into the clearing and suddenly draw rein. One seized Clara and forced her aback his horse even as he mounted behind her and kicked the beast to a gallop while one of his companions followed. Brin lay with an arrow in his side, gasping for air, unable even to speak as he looked at the third of the party, who stood over him with a wicked dagger in hand, which he drove deep into his victim’s abdomen with a vicious laugh of sheer hatred. The pain and horror overwhelmed the boy and gratefully he fell into darkness. Tyne removed his mask and laughed again over the broken form of his victim, “I told you, you would not last a week upon this road.” But there came no reply. Laughing all the more, Tyne mounted his horse and turned to follow his henchmen upon the next phase of the quest the dark man had set them.

  The horse stood over the prone form of his master and nudged him urgently awake. Kipril raised a hand to his head and groaned as he pulled himself to his feet, saying to the horse, “even after a hundred years I am still not used to this.”

  The horse cocked his head and asked, “you shall Go?”

  The man eyed his companion with a rueful smile, “nay dear friend, there is too much yet to be done for me to even ponder such an idea.”

  The horse snorted in amusement, “just making sure I need not seek out a new companion, for we have work to do.”

  The man nodded and climbed into the vacant saddle, as he said, “then we had best be off.” The horse shook his head in wonder, unsure how this delay could even remotely be perceived as his fault, but it mattered little to such as they, for Time really laid no constraints upon them. The horse screamed his eagerness to the world, reared, and suddenly vanished.

  They reappeared a moment later upon a tragic scene, at least from a mortal perspective, but that was not their point of view. Kipril slid from his saddle and knelt beside the fading boy, who lay gasping out his life upon the turf. Brin seemed to wake suddenly from the faint that had overtaken him with Tyne’s dagger thrust; he groaned as the horror and pain came crashing back with his returning senses. Some hero he had turned out to be. What would come of Clara, and worse, his entire village? He glanced despairingly up in hopes of some sign or solace and found himself eye to eye with the stranger. He tried to drop his eyes in shame, but something held his gaze firm as the familiar voice said, not in derision but in a friendly, calm manner, “will you pass from the mortal world and see what comes After or would you continue in that which you began?”

  Brin shivered in eagerness and fear; he was dying, what was this nonsense about finishing his quest? Kipril smiled knowingly, “it all seems quite strange and confusing at the moment but you know what you must and wish to do.” The boy searched his own heart and reeling mind for a moment and nodded weakly, for he had no breath for words. Kipril smiled deeply an
d grasped the boy’s hand, saying, “on your feet lad and let us be about the Master’s business.”

  The boy allowed himself to be drawn to his feet and thought it strange that he found strength in his limbs, peace in his heart, and no pain wracking his shattered body. He studied himself briefly and shivered, for he certainly looked as one nigh unto death, with an arrow protruding from his chest and blood staining his muddied peasant garb. “Come lad,” smiled Kipril, “we had best get you cleaned up.”

  Still not understanding but eager to see where this strange adventure would take him, he crawled aback the waiting horse behind the stranger as suddenly the world spun around them. The world resolved itself into a mountainous country of forest, meadow, and rushing rivers. They dismounted and walked slowly up a hill towards what appeared to be a ruined castle, set high upon the brow of a great hill at whose feet flowed a loud and mighty water. They crossed a crumbling bridge and entered the gaping gates of the ruin. “What is this place?” gasped the awestruck boy, for in its day this had to have been the most wondrous and beautiful of palaces ever built by mortal hands.

  “It was the pinnacle of man’s achievement and the symbol of his newfound pride, ere the Master cast him out of Paradise for his treachery,” said a firm, strong voice. Brin’s eyes were wide with wonder and something verging on awe or fear as he studied the man before them; he had never seen nor imagined a man such as this. He seemed to have all the strength of full manhood but the vigor and vibrancy of youth; wisdom and joy filled his wonderful eyes and radiated from his person like heat and light from the sun. He was clad all in silver, white, and deepest blue and studied the newcomer with interest.

  “Well met Kipril,” said he, “who is your young friend?” Brin felt himself shudder under the gaze of this auspicious person, for how could he even deign to look upon such a wretch and not turn away in horror and disgust? But he could find nothing in the man’s words, tone, or actions to confirm the revulsion he must certainly feel. The boy looked up in complete and utter confusion. The man laughed, seeming to know his thoughts, “easy lad, there is nothing to fear, now or ever. We are all the Master’s servants and firmly in His keeping. Are you with us?”

  Brin frowned, “I do not even know who or what you are sir?”

  The man nodded, “fair enough I suppose. By the looks of you there was little time for explanation.”

  He turned questioning eyes to Kipril, who nodded, “he was on the brink. He has agreed to come but knows nothing of what he was choosing.”

  Garren nodded, “there is now plenty of time for explanation and he shall be able to come to a reasoned decision.”

  Brin cocked his head in confusion and asked, “a decision about what? I thought I was a dead man.”

  Garren said grimly, “lad, you are dead as far as the mortal world is concerned. All that you once knew as life is behind you and all eternity lies before you. The question is, will you continue to act in our Master’s service within the confines of Time, in the world but not of it, or will you pass beyond this mortal sphere into whatever awaits beyond it?” The boy sat down heavily on a handy boulder, wondering if this day could get any stranger.

  Kipril smiled, “it is overwhelming at first, but you already know what it is you want to do.”

  The boy nodded, “I need to finish the task that was set me.”

  Garren smiled deeply, “then you had best join the Messengers lad.”

  The boy looked up eagerly, “who are they?”

  Garren answered, “we are men beyond death and Time, but not yet admitted to Eternity. We may still meddle in the affairs of mortals, at least so far as our Master’s will allows us, in order to guide, advise, warn, and protect those to whom we are sent. We cannot force or injure any mortal man in any way, but we can protect them from certain evil servants of the Enemy and urge them to do what they must in times of danger and trial.”

  Brin gasped, “the Enemy?”

  Kipril nodded grimly, “once the Master’s greatest servant, now His greatest foe who calls himself master and king over the mortal world and all its affairs. Various of his servants are our bitterest enemies and an undefeatable danger to mortal men, at least as far as mortal weapons are concerned.”

  Brin gasped, “Clara and my folk?”

  Kipril shook his head grimly, “will soon find themselves unwillingly involved in a nefarious plot of our Foe.”

  Brin stood suddenly and said resolutely, “I want to fight such evil.”

  Garren nodded and Kipril seemed well pleased. Garren said quietly, “you do understand lad, that you can go back only with our Master’s blessing? That you no longer have a part in the mortal world, save upon those errands our Master sets us? You will suffer physical and emotional pain and at times, you will fail in your set tasks? That you can no longer seek your own glory but must humbly and willingly do whatever it is our Master asks of us?”

  The boy looked thoughtful for a moment and then smiled in amusement, “I never had much, if any, glory of my own, but I shall gladly seek that of my Master.”

  They had been walking slowly as they talked and now stood on the crumbling bridge, about whose feet the river seemed to fret and grumble, as if it somehow begrudged this minor hindrance to its wild flow. Said Garren quietly, “then into the River with you lad.”

  Brin gave him a staggered look, even as the man pushed the boy headlong into the River. The current drove him down and seemed eager to bear him to depths unknown, when an unassailable peace overwhelmed him and as he relaxed, the current bore him to the bank where he lay for a moment dazed. As he sat up, he gasped to see himself clad as Garren, most especially with a great sword girt to his side, for he had never even seen such a weapon in his life, let alone worn one. Kipril reached down and again raised the boy to his feet, saying, “welcome lad, it is good to have you with us.”

  Brin eyed him joyfully, “did you know this would be the outcome when you sent me off on that ill-fated adventure?”

  Kipril shook his head and smiled ruefully, “nay lad, I only knew someone had to go. We are not all-knowing, that belongs to our Master alone. I suspected but had no way of knowing. I knew some vile threat was coming upon your home country and one of your own must counter it.”

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” came the bored and musty voice that interrupted their conversation, “but are these the ruins of legendary Ambrosia?”

  Garren shook his head in amusement, “tourists!”

  “Quite,” said the stuffy gentleman in his middle years, “now would you mind answering my question?”

  Kipril said, “you have found them sir, or what is left of them.”

  The man looked to his equally prim wife and said, “I told you this was a fool’s errand Mildred. There is not much here after all.”

  She nodded sadly, “I had so hoped there would be something of interest here, but alas, it is nothing but a barren hill, a dry riverbed, and some scattered stones.” Brin turned stunned eyes upon these strange folk and wondered how they could not see the verdant hill, the grand but ruined castle, and the great River. Garren shook his head and the boy knew he must not voice his confusion. The man looked at the three of them strangely and said, “and what would you three be doing in this forsaken place?”

  Kipril shrugged, “just showing the boy some remnants of the past.”

  The man smiled, “at least there is one lad in this crazed modern world interested in an education. Thank you for your assistance but I fear we must be going.”

  Once the man and his wife were well down the hill, Kipril and Garren broke into ill-contained laughter and Brin smiled in amusement, asking, “what was all that about?”

  Garren shrugged, “every so often curiosity seekers and treasure hunters and adventurers turn up here, but none can see anything but a deep gully where no river flows, a few broken stones, and a hill upon which only briars and weeds will grow. Man dwe
lt here in his youth, before the world was broken by his rebellion and pride. He built this grand monument to himself on the very banks of the River of Life. A thing which our Master had strictly forbidden. For his pride, man was cast out of Paradise into the mortal world where he was doomed to die, and never again was mortal man allowed to look upon that River, lest he drink of it and live forever in his fallen and wretched state. The Master also shattered their shrine that day and left it as you see it this day, though to mortal eyes it has crumbled into nothing but scattered stones. It is here among the ruins of man’s pride that we commit ourselves anew to our Master’s service, for ‘twas He that ransomed us from the grip of sin and death. All men must die physically but we need not die spiritually, that is, to willfully choose to live forever apart from our Maker.” Brin shivered at such a thought but knew it was a fate many a man chose in refusing the Master.

  He looked up suddenly, remembering the horrible fate to which Clara was undoubtedly bound. Kipril said quietly, “you wonder what will come of your friend?”

  The boy nodded, “can I not help her?”

  Garren smiled eagerly, “that is one of the reasons you still linger within the confines of Time, is it not?”

  The boy nodded resolutely, “and that shall be the first task to which I attend.” He paused in confusion, “how did I know that?”

  Kipril slapped him on the back, “you will know such things when you need them, as you will have the skills and resources at hand to accomplish what you must.”

  Brin frowned, “but you said something about failure?”

  Garren nodded, “sometimes our success depends on the choices of mortal men and they are infamous for choosing wrongly, ignoring us, or even betraying us. The Enemy also has many servants in the world who are undoubtedly working against us and against whom we must often fight. You cannot truly die, but you can take injury and even appear dead for a time, and perhaps even find yourself banished to the River from whence you must start anew.”

  Brin nodded his understanding, then asked, “how is it we get from place to place? ‘Twas a most wondrous horse that bore us here. Are we all so mounted?” Kipril smiled fondly as his own mount came up and affectionately nudged his shoulder, one moment he was a normal seeming beast and the next he shone like the sun. Brin had to cover his eyes at this sudden revelation of awesome beauty.

  “The Pegassi,” said Garren, “are our constant friends and our means of being where and when we are needed. They willingly partner with us in the Master‘s service.”

  The great winged horse nodded his agreement but suddenly he laid back his ears and said, “but where is the lad’s companion?”

  They all frowned at this and looked about in some confusion, even as Garren’s Pegassi made his appearance, saying, “the lad is afoot for the moment. There has actually been a Refusal of our Calling!” The two elder Messengers looked stunned, while Brin just looked confused and greatly disappointed, though he could not quite understand why.

  Kipril explained, “the Pegassi are an immortal race that dwells yet in lost Paradise. They are not rebels like the sons of men, doomed to die. But it is the duty and honor of their race to partner with us in the Master’s service and when Called, each Pegassi has the choice of refusing, but theoretically in doing so he defies our Master’s will and is thus cast into the mortal world.”

  Brin frowned, “in theory?”

  Garren nodded, “it has never yet been done to my knowledge, until now.” The Pegassi nodded grimly.

  Kipril said, “you cannot get anywhere afoot, so for now you must accompany us.”

  Wing shook his head, “I must carry two of you?”

  The other Pegassi snorted, “it is not as if they actually weigh anything. You might as well carry a hundred as one.”

  Wing reared and spread his wings in amusement, “it is just an idea I had never considered before. These are certainly strange days.” He looked expectantly at Kipril and the newly minted Messenger, “well?” They exchanged an eager grin and quickly were astride the wondrous creature, and suddenly they were gone.

  The Pegassi left them on the verge of a morning forest, overlooking a great, grim city. They dismounted and Brin wondered at their sudden change of garb. Kipril smiled at his surprise, “you will often find yourself appearing in different guises, depending upon the quest that is set you. Sometimes even those who should once have known you best will not recognize you at all.”

  Brin grinned, “and what is our mission that we appear as two of the meanest peasants in the Realm?”

  Kipril said grimly, “today there shall either be wedding or an execution, neither shall be pleasant.” Brin shivered, knowing they must somehow interfere before either could happen. They turned towards the cold, grim city and wondered what their part in the day’s events might be.

  Clara soon came to recognize her captors as the three mean boys from Brin’s village and she was horrified to learn that they were returning her to her father and her betrothed lord. She thought she would much rather suffer poor Brin’s fate than endure such a husband, but alas she had no say in the matter. As they raced back to her city, she prayed passionately for some escape or rescue, but there seemed no hope now that she was in the clutches of such vile boys. She had thought them only bullies, not villains capable of murder and kidnapping, but so they had proved themselves. They taunted her and threatened her with the fate that would befall her, but they dared not harm her physically or arrive with her in worse shape than absolutely necessary; their dark master was quite firm on that point. They finally reached the Kingdom where her father ruled and he was very glad to have the wretched princess home again, though she herself was far from happy in the matter.

  The vile lord to whom she was promised, hissed in anticipation, “we must hold the wedding as soon as possible Sire, lest she think to run off again.”

  The King smiled cruelly, “we cannot risk it Lord Mauthom, you shall wed the wretched child on the morrow if that is agreeable.”

  Clara shrieked, “I will not wed such a man!”

  Mauthom slapped the girl for her insolence and snarled, “you will wed me on the morrow or you shall die a traitor’s death. The choice is yours.”

  He smiled wickedly and the girl growled, “the latter shall be preferable.”

  “We shall see,” hissed the villain, “remove her.” Tyne and his cronies drug Clara off to one of the towers and there locked her until it was time for her wedding or her doom. Once alone, she fell on her face and wept bitterly.

  Preparations were soon begun and the entire Kingdom was expected to turn out for such an event. Many would come simply for the chance of a free meal and the rest out of curiosity or sheer dread, for none dared defy either their King or his most powerful and wicked Lord. The peasants came in their droves afoot, while the more affluent rode or came safely concealed from the wretched host in their carriages. Kipril and Brin easily infiltrated the city with the unnamed masses, the better question was, how were they to rescue the Princess?

  “Will your Princess bend to her father’s scheme or shall there be blood this day?” asked Kipril of Brin as they ambled along.

  The boy replied, “she ran away from home to prevent this very thing. I cannot see her agreeing to it, thus we will need to interfere. I only wonder how Tyne and his cronies became involved?”

  Kipril scratched his chin thoughtfully, “there was a Spy in your village, not long after your departure. Your three friends likely found themselves entangled in a scheme of his making.”

  Brin frowned, “a Spy?”

  Kipril smiled, “one of the lesser undead servants of evil and by far the most common. Far less nasty than a Dreadlord, and with no vile magic like the Wraiths. They recruit men for their dread master, spy on his enemies, and infiltrate every level of society on various errands of evil intent. Their weapons can temporarily injure us to the point of seemin
g death, but only a decapitating blow will send us back to the River.”

  Brin laughed nervously, “to think you speak of such so lightly!”

  Kipril shook his head in amusement, “and so too will you lad, once you get a few missions under your belt. Right now, I am sure, everything is new, overwhelming, and confusing, but you will soon feel as if this were what you were born to do.”

  By now they had reached the city square where the events of the day were to take place. Brin was lost in wonder as he gazed at the castle that towered high overhead, never having seen such a structure in his short and unassuming life, save the ruined splendor of Ambrosia. He felt his forward momentum checked suddenly which drew him back to reality; a stern looking guard was blocking Brin’s further progress with the shaft of his spear. He growled, “stop gawking fool and stay with your fellow vermin!”

  Brin grinned in embarrassment and ducked back into the crowd with the vastly amused Kipril, “a man of the world, I see! You will see much greater and stranger things than a castle lad, in the course of your service.”

  Brin made no reply, for surprise had silenced his tongue as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and a gruff voice said, “come along gentlemen, my master will have words with you.” Kipril had found himself likewise conscripted by the rough looking giant; they exchanged a curious look and allowed their uncouth host to draw them out of the teaming masses and into the shadowy depths of an all but abandoned inn.

  They found themselves seated at a table in a forgotten corner, facing a preoccupied young man who bore a striking resemblance to the imperiled Princess. He said quietly to the gigantesque servant, “keep looking Garth, for Clara’s sake, keep looking!” The man bowed deeply to his master and vanished swiftly from the inn. The distraught youth paced uneasily before his strange guests, “I am sorry for the suddenness of this interview, but we have little time. My sister is in grave danger and each moment draws us closer to disaster. I have sent my most faithful servant out, seeking those who might avail me in rescuing my sister from our father and those that would destroy her. You do not look like much, I must say, but if Garth thinks you can assist me, then I do not doubt your skills or your courage.”

  The Messengers exchanged an intrigued smile as the Prince continued, “for the love of your Princess, will you risk your lives to aid me in her rescue?”

  Kipril said solemnly, “we are at your service, Highness.” Brin could not believe what was happening, but seemed excited by the prospect and nodded eagerly.

  Bayard smiled approvingly and said, “then we shall not wait on Garth, he must find us if he discovers any more faithful swords. We can lose no more time. Come!” He dashed from the inn with the Messengers close on his heels.

  Kipril said quietly to Brin’s unasked question, “Providence lad, Providence. A way is always provided, though not always a victory.” Brin smiled in unabashed excitement and hurried after their royal ringleader.

  Lord Mauthom and the King waited impatiently for the advent of the Princess. They heard the sounds of her protests and struggles long before she was forcibly thrust through the doors of the chamber in which they waited. The Lord raised one eyebrow and said, “she is not going to go through with it?”

  The King growled, “she is not fool enough to die for refusing, she will come around.” His Lordship did not seem to agree. The girl was nearly flung into their presence and the door slammed shut behind her.

  Knowing there was no use in hysterics with such an audience, she drew herself up regally and said, “I will not go through with it, Sire so you might as well send for the headsman.”

  Her father said grimly, “do not be ridiculous, you will change your mind when your doom is upon you, women are all such fickle creatures. Now go prepare yourself!” She nodded resignedly, knowing resistance was futile, at least she could die looking like a proper lady. The King turned to his Lord and said hopefully, as the girl left the room, “see, she has come around.” Mauthom shook his head, not sharing the King’s assessment of the situation; she had simply decided that resistance would gain her nothing and would die with some semblance of dignity.

  Clara withdrew from their presence, looked straight ahead as she was ushered away by the servants, and carried herself with as much regality as she could muster. She would not die in hysterics. They came to her chambers where she was to attire herself for the day’s festivities. One of the nervous servants squeaked, “your ladies await within, my Lady.”

  She nodded regally to the cowering creature and entered her chambers, much to the relief of all that she would resist no longer, though none envied her her fate. What she found within, nearly made her scream in surprise but a strong hand from behind quieted her outburst. She nearly fainted in relief when she discovered that it was her brother’s strong arms that were the only things keeping her upright. He put a finger to his lips to silence her as she began to understand that perhaps hope had found her at last. Her ladies sat, bound and gagged, with eyes bulging in fear and anger at being so manhandled, even by the young Prince. “Now,” said he, “we must get you away from here without anyone the wiser.”

  Clara shook her head, “I cannot escape like this, they will know it was you! Your life will be forfeit.”

  Bayard shook his head grimly, “that may be so, but I cannot live in knowing you have suffered such a fate. It is the only way.”

  She nodded resignedly, and said, “but how is it to be done?”

  Only as Kipril spoke did she notice the two men who occupied one corner of the room, “leave that to me, my Lady.”

  She frowned, “but they will know that something is amiss when I do not emerge in due time.”

  Brin threw a veil over his head and said impishly, “no they shall not, at least until they figure out that the bride is not who they thought.”

  She stared in amazement at the boy, “Brin! How can this be? When they took me…”

  He smiled wistfully, “it is high time you started believing in miracles Highness, because it will take one to get you safely away from here!”

  She laughed quietly in relieved wonder, “then let us be about it. How is it you plan to spirit me away?”

  “Just follow me, my Lady,” said Kipril smilingly, “and all shall be revealed to you.”

  She exchanged a mystified look with her brother, while Brin smiled eagerly. She shrugged and followed her unlikely rescuer into the adjoining chamber, which boasted neither windows nor doors, save that through which they entered. A small gasp of wonder escaped her lips as she discovered a full grown horse in her bedchamber. The man’s only reply was a deepening of his smile. She shook her head in wonder, climbed aback the beast, and all three vanished as soon as Kipril had mounted behind her. The prince poked his head into the inner chamber to discover that his sister had mysteriously vanished, and then turning to Brin, said, “she is gone! How did you do it? Will I ever see her again?”

  Brin shook his head grimly and offered the Prince his arm, “are either of us likely to survive this adventure? She is safe, and so is our mission accomplished. That is all either of us need know or hope for.”

  Bayard laughed eagerly and took the proffered limb as Brin pulled the veil over his face. The Prince said, “nay my dear ‘Lady,’ that is very unlikely. But at least I shall not die of curiosity trying to discover how your friend managed to escape with my sister or how you seem to have miraculously escaped the fate my sister thought you suffered.”

  Brin smiled mysteriously, “you will see stranger things yet, I think. Come, we do not want to be late for my big day!”

  The Prince shook his head, set a regal look on his face, and escorted his ‘sister’ from the chamber. The servants and soldiers standing about outside the door were quite perplexed to see the Lady emerge with her brother, for none had seen the Prince go in. He said in answer to their astounded looks, “I shall escort her Highness to the c
eremony. Await us here. No one is to enter this chamber until our return, upon pain of death. Am I understood?” The minions nodded in abject terror but also sighed in utter relief, for this loathsome duty no longer belonged to them nor did the consequences of its failure.

  They emerged into the courtyard of the castle where an ornate carriage waited to carry her Ladyship to the town square. They arrived shortly, amidst the muted cheers of the populace who loved their Lady but dreaded this union to such a man, but more did they fear for their own lives, thus did they cheer out of false excitement but so too did they live to see the morrow. The carriage drew to a stop and the Prince emerged and helped the bride from the vehicle. The King was quite surprised to see the girl arrive without a fuss and escorted by her brother, who had up until now objected bitterly to the match. He smiled in anticipation, seeing that both of his children had come to their senses. Bayard offered the bride his arm and escorted her to his father and the waiting groom. They each made the proper courtesies and then the Prince gave the bride’s arm into the keeping of the groom. Mauthom was quite perplexed by the display, trying to discern any trickery in the gesture, for he knew it could not be true submission to the will of their father. He said nothing, but took the proffered arm and escorted the bride to the waiting General, who would officiate the ceremony. He glanced back at the prince and saw an eager light burning in his eyes; the vile lord smiled triumphantly, he knew there was something amiss.

  Once they stood before the aged soldier, Mauthom turned his bride so that they faced one another and threw aside ‘her’ veil. The spectators gasped at this horrendous breach of protocol but cried out in amazement when their Princess was revealed to be a young man with a look of sheer, impish delight on his face. Snarled Mauthom, “where is the Princess?!”

  Brin grinned insolently, “far from your vile clutches.” Mauthom raised a dagger he had pulled from some hidden place and growled, “as you would be wise to be.”

  Steel met steel as Bayard’s sword blocked the attack, the Prince said, “not so fast Lord Mauthom. Let me be the instrument of Justice this day for all the evils you have wrought amongst our people, plotting my sister’s ruin was merely the most recent.”

  “Justice, bah!” snarled the fell Lord as he drew his own sword and leapt into the fray with this upstart youth.

  Brin drew back from the whirling pair, but stopped his retreat when a familiar voice shouted, “Brin? You are supposed to be dead!”

  “What is this?” hissed the Spy at Tyne, “I thought you had killed this wretch?”

  Tyne said in mystification, “I am certain I did.”

  The Spy snarled, “then he is mine. You three help our dear, embattled Lord and destroy that traitorous fool they call a prince.” Tyne shook his head in disgust, for he wanted to kill Brin himself, but he dared not disobey his vile master; he and his two cronies rushed to the aid of Lord Mauthom, for whom it was already too late.

  The dying lord was on his knees, clutching at his ruined chest in utter amazement. Bayard turned to face this new threat just in time. He managed to fell one of his foes but the others pierced him through; the valiant Prince crumpled unmoving to the ground. Tyne and his surviving companion looked eagerly to where Brin crossed swords with their cruel master. Where had that peasant learned to wield a sword? Brin wondered the very same thing, for he seemed to have an innate ability with the weapon, though he had never handled a sword in his life. The Spy however, was the more skilled of the two, for he soon struck a mortal blow upon the insolent boy, who swiftly returned the favor, before falling into darkness. The Spy screamed in agony and fell to ash where he stood. Tyne and all those watching stared in mystified horror.

  The King finally found his voice as he cried, “what calamity has befallen us? My own son a traitor! My greatest Lord dead! My daughter vanished! What shall come of my House and my Kingdom?” He frowned at the uneasy Tyne, “where is your master? You managed to bring my daughter back to me once, can you do it again?

  Tyne shook his head, “I have no idea what has come of either, Sire.”

  The King huffed in agitation, “at least see to those traitors.”

  “Sire?” came the flummoxed reply.

  The King growled, “Lord Mauthom shall lie in state and have a proper burial. Take those two traitorous wretches outside the city and burn their carcasses; spread their accursed ashes on the dung heap!”

  Tyne said in surprise, “even the Prince?”

  The King snarled, “he is no son of mine. Get you gone with them.” Tyne shivered at the venom in the King’s words and quickly set about his grim task.

  Brin suddenly awoke in the back of what smelled like a refuse cart. He glanced about him in some surprise, it seemed that the Prince and he were indeed in a refuse cart and on their way to some ignominious end. He recognized Tyne’s back in the wagon seat above, but thankfully he seemed oblivious to the movement of his supposedly dead passengers. Brin shifted his attention to the Prince and felt at his neck, there was a pulse; it was weak and sporadic but it was enough. Bayard wakened slightly at the touch of his companion and glanced dazedly at Brin. Brin held a finger to his lips to silence the Prince, but he was too weak to make any reply. Brin whispered, “will you come?”

  Bayard nodded weakly and fainted with the effort, but Brin’s firm grip on his shoulder soon roused him. This time, the former Prince seemed fully within his senses with questions aplenty in his eyes. Brin shook his head and eyed Tyne’s silent form. Bayard nodded in understanding, he would get no answers until they were well away from their vile chauffer. The cart lurched and the sound of steady plodding became that of loud splashing; they were fording a shallow stream. Brin smiled eagerly and leapt from the wagon bed. Bayard was not long in following. They took cover in the bushes beside the creek. Tyne did not notice their departure amid the noise of the pony and cart; he was quite perplexed when he reached his destination to find that his cargo had mysteriously vanished.

  Once Tyne was well out of sight and hearing, Bayard said excitedly, “what has happened? I think I should be dead!”

  Brin nodded, as he glanced about, “and you are, at least to all you once knew.”

  Bayard frowned, as his perplexity deepened, “what do you mean?”

  Brin grinned, “you wanted to know what happened to your sister; you are about to find out.”

  Bayard followed Brin’s eager gaze and shook his head in wonder, “you were right, I am seeing stranger things by the moment!”

  Kipril had just appeared aback his Pegassi, visible to both boys in all his wonder. “Need a lift?” said he.

  Brin laughed, “certainly!”

  Bayard shook his head, “I have no choice if I am to understand any of this.”

  The two boys climbed aback the waiting Pegassi who murmured, “three! This is getting quite out of hand!”

  Kipril laughed in reply, “only until we find these lads wings of their own.”

  The Pegassi shook his head in wonder, “hopefully they find them soon, I am beginning to feel like a nag for hire!”

  Brin smiled, “I certainly appreciate your sacrifice on our behalf, my dear Pegassi.”

  The creature snorted in amusement, “I suppose it is no trouble at that.” He reared and the world spun; Bayard gaped at all the wonder about him. Talking horses and now this! They found themselves suddenly before the gates of the ruined castle, dejectedly overlooking the rushing River.

  Bayard slid from the great creature’s back and faced his companions ere they had found time to dismount. “What have I entangled myself in?” asked he.

  Kipril said in surprise, “you have told him nothing?”

  Brin shrugged, “there really was no time.”

  Kipril grinned, “well, here there is Time aplenty, or rather, we are well beyond such mortal concerns.”

  “Who or what are you?” asked Bayard in growing c
onfusion.

  Brin looked to Kipril, “I hardly know more than he, you had best explain.”

  Kipril laughed, “true enough, I suppose. It was not that long ago that I found Brin near death, at the time of your sister’s capture.”

  Bayard nodded, “so at least you were no ghost when you were of help to her.” He glanced down at his own bloodied tunic and said, “but then, I do not feel a ghost either.”

  Kipril shook his head, “nay lad, no ghosts are we. The Master does not allow spirits to wander at will. After death we must dwell ever within or away from His presence. We are merely men who have chosen to remain within the mortal sphere yet beyond mortality, but ever, only in His service and at His direction do we roam. You may yet choose to enter Eternity and be finished with mortal affairs.”

  Bayard frowned, “but that was not your choice?”

  Brin grinned, “else we would not be standing here discussing such metaphysical impossibilities.”

  Asked the late Prince, “how did you know I was in the Master’s keeping and not some valiant, but indifferent creature?”

  Kipril shrugged, “we did not, but Brin could not have Asked nor could you have Agreed without it being so. You would have simply died of your wounds and that would have been the end of the matter, at least as far as we were concerned. So?”

  Bayard smiled eagerly, “I little understand what I am about to undertake, but I would not miss it for the world. What must I do?” Kipril grinned like a maniac as he pushed the eager boy headlong into the River.

  The boy came ashore much as Brin had done not so long ago, but there to meet him was an overeager Pegassi. Brin watched their meeting with wistful curiosity as Kipril put an encouraging hand on his shoulder, “fear not lad, you are never alone, nor will you be forever afoot.”

  The boy smiled knowingly, “and that will be my next task.”

  Bayard and his new companion joined them, “you mean our next task. Come!” They exchanged an eager grin, climbed aback the waiting Pegassi, and vanished from sight.

  The world quit spinning and they found themselves on a broad, grassy expanse of silent hills that marched off in their unending ranks to the horizon. The Pegassi set out at an eager trot, for he knew exactly where they were wanted. They soon came upon a curious sight in the midst of those lonely hills, for they were no longer alone.

  “Come here lads, come here!” came a voice familiar to Brin’s ears. It could not be! But it was, for here again was the stuffy tourist who was so disappointed to find nothing left of the fabled castle of Ambrosia. They stopped a polite distance from the man and dismounted, looking about curiously. The tourist said, “have you come to help in the Great Chase?”

  Brin asked, “and what would that be Sir?”

  The man spread his arms expansively, to take in all about them, saying, “why, we are going to capture the world’s most wondrous horse. He is rumored to roam these very hills and to have strayed out of fabled Paradise itself. Why else would I go to such expense to transport lumber way out here and build an impervious corral?”

  Bayard scratched his head, “what if it is all a rumor?”

  The man smiled patiently, as if the boy was an imbecile, “I have it on the best of authority that the creature is real and as impressive as they say. My scouts and hunters have sighted the beast a number of times. Tomorrow we shall catch him!”

  Brin asked, “have you given up your pursuit of ancient ruins?”

  The man shook his head, finally recognizing the boy, “I am a treasure hunter my boy, be it old ruins or fabulous beasts, it is the mysteries of the world that intrigue me and make life worth the living. I have the money and the time, so I might as well indulge myself as not.” He then proceeded to show them around his small camp and beamed proudly as he let them study the enclosure that would be strong enough to hold a herd of wild, angry bulls. The boys exchanged a wondering glance, but said nothing of their thoughts on the morrow’s anticipated business. It would be an interesting day, to say the least.

  A scout roused them all from their beds very early the next morning, shouting, “we have him! Up, up! We have him!”

  The various servants, friends, and adventurers that inhabited the camp soon dashed from their tents, threw on their clothes, and then rushed to the picket lines to saddle their horses. The scout paced impatiently while the hasty preparations were made, but they were all very quickly in their saddles. The scout, on a fresh horse, led the party out and at strategic points along their path, left men in twos and threes until only he, his master, and Bayard remained. The scout left them and hastened off to find the men still in pursuit of the beast. He had not far to ride and eagerly called to his companions. The flagging horses of the pursuers fell behind as the three fresh beasts and their riders took up the chase. And so it went, with each rider dropping out as his horse gave up in exhaustion, but always there were fresh riders to keep the hunted creature at the gallop as they drew ever nearer to the enclosure. Brin waited in the camp with a few of the servants who had no horses, ready to swing the gate closed once the beast was within the corral. The horses were stumbling in exhaustion when they finally came within sight, but their quarry was in no better condition. What a beast this must be to run so far, so fast!

  Had he not been exhausted, the creature might have avoided the trap, but he was far too weak to fight his pursuers any longer. He ran into the midst of the enclosure and promptly collapsed, but even in his weariness, he still looked ready to fight to the death. Gradually, the eccentric tourist and his varied companions trickled into the camp and looked into the pen with a combination of awe and pride. Even run near to death, the creature truly was the most wondrous horse ever foaled. Bayard and Brin shared an enigmatic smile. The Pegassi shook his head sadly, to look upon the pitiful state of his late kinsman.

  “Well lads?” came the voice of the architect of the entire scheme, “what think you now of my little venture?”

  Brin said incredulously, “I cannot believe it Sir, even seeing it with my own eyes. It is quite amazing!”

  The man shook his head grimly, “nay lad, the amazing part is yet to come, if it comes at all. We still have to break the beast.”

  Brin nodded, “may I try?”

  The man gaped at the boy, “I did not think you suicidal, boy.”

  Brin said quietly as he mounted the fence, “not suicidal, just impulsive. I would have a word with your beast, if I may?”

  The man shook his head in astonishment, “it is your life!” The creature had by now caught his breath, but he lay quietly in the pen, eyeing the men dangerously. The advent of one of the vile creatures within the enclosure caused the beast to rise suddenly to his feet.

  Brin approached cautiously, holding his empty hands open at his side. The horse watched him like a hunting cat and dared the intrepid child to come closer. The boy said in a whisper, as he drew nearer the fallen Pegassi, “you can yet return to your Master! As there is hope for fallen man, so too is there hope for you, should you choose to seek it…”

  The boy’s words were cut short by a vicious squeal and simultaneous kick from the outraged horse. The audacity! He laid his ears flat in perplexity, how did the child know? Only then did curiosity overcome his wrath; he looked about, to see what had come of the boy. Brin lay in a heap on one side of the pen, where the force of the kick had thrown him. The horse shook his head and blew out his nostrils in frustration. It was the child’s own fault! He should know better than to taunt a cornered beast. Now he would never know how the boy knew. Something like regret and guilt were gnawing at the once proud beast’s heart, but terror suddenly replaced all else. A wicked laugh filled the ears and froze the hearts of all present, most especially the horse.

  “I thank you for your effort on my behalf,” snarled the Dreadlord, “I will be taking possession of the beast, and anything else my master might find useful.”
There came no resistance, for none had the heart to refuse such a monster. Bayard reached for the sword that was not there, the Pegassi snorted his frustration, and Brin suddenly stirred.

  The monster hissed, “you will wish the beast had finished you boy, if you are so utterly foolish in service to my master! Captain! Secure the camp.”

  Only then did they notice the dozen black-garbed soldiers behind the horrid creature. They quickly rifled through the camp, its inhabitants, and their luggage, taking whomever and whatever they pleased. The Tourist escaped with his life, but little else. Once the vile troop had left, he collapsed in a heap and wept, as if he had lost his soul as well. They conscripted a half dozen of the young men into the service of the Blackguard that day, and none seemed eager for the honor. They took the best of the horses, but after the day’s events, they were not much to look at. They only found five capable of bearing a rider and the prisoners could not walk, for the Dreadlord was impatient enough with his mounted companions. The fell thing laughed cruelly as it said to Brin, “since you love the beast more than your life, why don’t you ride him until we reach our destination?”

  Brin shivered as the vile thing caught his eyes, but he said nothing as he drew away from the creature and approached the terrified horse. He whispered quietly, “perhaps we can find a way out of this together?”

  The creature shuddered but said just as quietly, “I had rather trust you than that thing. I cannot believe I am saying this, but mount up.”

  The Dreadlord and his soldiers were quite disappointed, and not a little amazed, that the boy was actually able to mount the wild creature. They did not know why, but they knew their fell master was desperate to have the beast in his possession. They could care less about the boy, but now they would have both! The wretched party then set off, at the fastest pace the tired horses could maintain. The Dreadlord could not fathom how the boy managed to survive both his first and second encounter with the horse. Why did his master so desperately desire the creature? Perhaps he could discover the secret and use it to his own advantage. They were forced to stop for the night when full dark fell because the mortal members of the party could not go on. The Dreadlord vanished on some errand of his own, leaving the Blackguard to watch the fabulous beast and the new recruits. The captain was not long in addressing his conscripts and telling them of the glories that awaited faithful service and the horrors to be met with else. Brin and Bayard kept their faces blank while the others either shrunk in terror or a thoughtful look entered their eyes as the captain spoke.

  Continued the captain, “I was once like you: weak, pathetic, lost, scared, but now look at me! The same can happen to you. I came from an obscure village at the back end of the world and thought to make my living as a bandit, but that my lads, is a dangerous profession. The ruling powers do not look with favor on such activities and soon put an end to it, but I discovered the power that can challenge the power of Kings! And so can you.”

  Brin interrupted this monologue with, “perhaps mortal Kings cower before such evil, but there is a King above all Kings who has already defeated your vile master!”

  The captain scoffed, “you are a bold little magpie, boy! Do you not know that such words can earn you a terrible death? I had a wife who used to spout such drivel and it only earned her abandonment and poverty!” A wicked smile graced his lips, “perhaps when we are done with whatever strange errand that monster intends, I shall see what has come of the woman and her wretched son. A pathetic creature that, he probably did not even survive infancy.” Brin stared in wonder, this man…could it be?

  Before he could ask a foolish question, a quavering voice asked, “Sir, did you originally dwell in Greenvale?”

  The captain looked towards the awkward soldier in astonishment, “how did you know?”

  Brin shivered, for here was Tyne, now a member of the Blackguard! How far would he descend into evil? Tyne answered timidly, “for that was my home and there were rumors regarding a certain widow and her son…”

  The captain laughed mirthlessly, “widow indeed! Tell me of her son.”

  Tyne’s nervousness increased as he continued, “he was ever weak and small, Sir, and as deluded in his thinking as ever his mother was.”

  The captain smiled wickedly, “was?”

  Tyne swallowed hard, “yes, Sir. He was killed trying to aid our enemies.”

  “And?” asked the Captain in grim delight.

  Tyne gulped, “and it was I that killed him.”

  The captain nodded appreciatively, “and good riddance. What would you say to a visit home, lad?”

  Tyne smiled in cruel anticipation, “I think it would be most delightful, Sir.”

  The captain smiled, “I thought as much.”

  “You are not going anywhere,” snarled the Dreadlord, “at least not until that beast is secure in our master’s keeping.”

  The creature had returned suddenly from whatever its private errand had been and was irate to find its wretched slaves conspiring amongst themselves. They would soon learn the price of treachery! “Let them be!” came a firm voice of command. Brin could not help but grin while all the others gasped in terror and awe, all save the Dreadlord, who laughed mockingly and drew his sword. Bayard sat his Pegassi with sword in hand; the pair glowed to shame the moon. The Dreadlord snarled in anticipation and summoned its own fell beast, which came snarling out of the darkness. The mortal soldiers drew back in horror and gave the terrible creatures room to fight. The Dreadlord’s reptilian horse screamed a challenge to the eager Pegassi. Light and darkness flashed like lightning as the two exchanged sword strokes; both suddenly vanished as they exchanged mortal blows. During all the excitement, Brin snuck away to the picket lines and there confronted the late Pegassi, who trembled in terror.

  The boy said reassuringly, as he loosed the creature, “make good your escape while the others are distracted.”

  The horse looked upon the boy in astonishment, “have you any idea how terrible it is for me to witness such a spectacle? I will gladly run, most especially to be free of that horrid creature! But what of you?”

  The boy shook his head, “I will manage somehow, but you cannot be found if that Dreadlord wins! Now go, but remember, your Master has not forsaken you!”

  The horse blew out his nostrils in consternation, “who are you?”

  The boy smiled impishly and said, “someday perhaps, you will hear the full tale, but for now…Run!” The horse saw what the boy was staring at, quickly turned, and vanished into the darkness.

  The captain and his terrified soldiers surrounded the treacherous boy, demanding, “what is so wonderful about that miserable horse that you would sell your life for his?” The boy did not answer but only smiled enigmatically. The captain, in his wrath, smote the boy where he stood. He stared down at the unmoving Brin, and said in quiet wrath, “break camp. We will be paying my poor wife a long overdue visit.” The soldiers were too terrified by the events of the evening to do anything but obey, and soon they had struck camp and vanished into the greying east.

  Once the soldiers were well and truly gone, the horse wandered out of the shrouding mist and nosed the prone boy. Brin sat up and grinned joyously at Erian, “did I not tell you to run?”

  The horse blew out his nostrils in amusement, “why should I take orders from one who seems intent on his own destruction?” He cocked his head curiously, “how is it that you have survived all attempts to kill you?”

  Brin grinned, “that I cannot say.”

  The horse asked, “then will you at least tell me what our next adventure shall be?”

  The boy stood and said, “I thought you would never ask. We must get to Greenvale before those villains do.”

  The horse threw his head up in eagerness, “finally, a task worthy of my attention. I can outrun those mortal nags without breaking a sweat.”

  Brin asked, “sh
all we be off?”

  The horse whinnied his amusement, “we are only waiting upon you, my dear sir.”

  Brin smiled, “then we had best be off.” And so they were. Erian was not boasting, for he easily reached the little town before the vile host. They stopped in a little copse just outside of town and the boy whispered to the horse, “you had best wait here, I will not be long.”

  The horse said quizzically, “what are we going to do when our friends arrive?”

  The boy shrugged, “I have no idea.”

  The horse gasped, “then why are we here?”

  The boy’s grin deepened in a most irritating fashion as he said over his shoulder as he retreated towards the village, “I will be back soon.” The horse shook his head in wonder. Would he ever get used to mortals?

  Brin silently approached his mother’s cottage, careful not to reveal his presence. He knew his folk would know him and that he must not be seen. He ducked quickly into the cottage only to find a knife at his throat, but there came a sudden gasp and the weapon dropped to the floor. “Brin!” came the astonished voice.

  He smiled impishly at Clara, “Princess?”

  She had regained her composure and her weapon as she replied, “how is it you keep popping up when least expected?” The boy shrugged and she sobered, “where is my brother?”

  He said quietly, “he did not survive the King’s wrath.”

  She nodded sadly but then frowned in consternation, “how then did you?”

  He shook his head, “remember what I told you about miracles?”

  She sighed, “will you ever give me a straight answer?”

  He grinned, “someday, perhaps. Where is my mother?”

  A look of concern crossed her face, “you do not know?”

  He shook his head, “this is my first visit home since our little adventure.”

  She replied, “your mother is dying, perhaps even now upon her deathbed.” She brightened, “perhaps your presence will give her the strength and will to go on.”

  He shook his head sadly, “I no longer belong to her, but perhaps I can give her peace ere it is over.”

  They walked together into the little bedroom, and the frail woman in the bed smiled, “I thought I heard your voice, child!” She looked him over and smiled proudly, “or rather my boy is become a man! What of this dread that that stranger said would come upon us?”

  The boy smiled fondly down at his mother, saying, “it will soon enough be upon the village, I have come to give warning and others will bring hope unlooked for, but you will sleep before then.”

  The poor woman sighed, “I will miss this adventure too I suppose, but at least I can die in peace, having seen my boy one last time.” She frowned, “what of Clara? She has been as a daughter to me since that stranger of yours left her upon my doorstep.”

  Brin smiled, “she will be well beyond danger when it comes.”

  Clara scowled, “and who said I want to be away from here?”

  Brin said grimly, “Tyne comes with them.”

  She paled at mention of her kidnapper and said, “since you put it that way, how do I get out of here?”

  Brin laughed, “that is another reason I am here.”

  His mother asked hopefully, “is there something else I will have to miss?”

  The pair exchanged a startled look and then Brin said sheepishly, “we are only friends, mother.”

  She sighed in some disappointment but said weakly, “perhaps I should rest a bit.” She turned over, as if in sleep, but it was the sleep of death.

  Clara looked at Brin sadly, “she is gone!”

  Brin nodded, and said musingly, “and her sorrows evermore behind her.”

  Clara stared at him, “your mother has just died and that is all you can say?”

  He looked at her in surprise, wondering at her vehement reaction and then realized what his words must sound like to mortal ears! To him, death was simply a bridge that must be crossed into greater things, especially for those in the Master’s keeping. To Clara, it was the end of everything she knew and loved. He said quietly, “do not think me a heartless wretch, my mother’s life has been one of trial and grief. She now looks upon a far brighter morning!”

  She shook her head, “I see your point, but she was your mother!”

  Brin smiled wistfully, “and we will not be forever sundered, but for now there are other things we must be about. Quickly, danger comes!”

  Clara shook off her confusion, gathered her few possessions, and followed the cautious Brin back to the little wood where Erian waited. He laid his ears back upon sighting the girl, not liking the thought of strangers at this pivotal moment. Brin said without preamble, “this is Clara and she should not be found when the Blackguard comes, and neither should you. Would you aid her escape?”

  She looked at the boy as if he were mad to address a horse so and nearly fainted when the horse actually replied, “I suppose, if it is as you say, though I had hoped to make my stand against such foes.”

  Brin shook his head, “you cannot risk falling into enemy hands again. You both need to disappear.”

  “He is right,” agreed a new voice, “for there is little time!”

  Brin was not sure who was the more startled, Erian or Clara, as Bayard rode into the little cluster of trees. The plainly clad boy smiled at his sister, who gaped like a stranded fish. He slid from his saddle, hugged the astounded girl, and helped her aback the flummoxed Erian. Said she, “Bayard? But Brin said…”

  Bayard shook his head, “there is no time for explanation, but know that I am well! Farewell!”

  The horse turned his head back to look at the girl and asked, “have you any idea what is going on?”

  She smiled in amusement, “not the slightest, but I have learned to trust their words, no matter how strange, for this will not be the first time they have saved my life!”

  He shook his head in wonder but said, “then we had best heed them again. Farewell!”

  Once the mortal pair had vanished from sight, Brin asked, “what news?”

  Bayard smiled in eagerness, “the Blackguard shall fall upon your folk tomorrow at first light. I have found a few friends who will be eager to make their acquaintance not long thereafter.”

  Brin nodded, “then I must give warning this evening. Care to join me?”

  Bayard nodded, “I would be honored.” He grinned knowingly, “and you will likely need my aid.” Brin arched an eyebrow in question. Bayard laughed, “your folk are not likely to take the word of a local boy, but perhaps they will listen to a stranger?”

  Brin shook his head, “they ignored Kipril once they got over their initial wonder at seeing a real live stranger.”

  Bayard said in feigned disappointment, “so they have already seen so legendary a creature? Alas, I shall not have the honor of being a novelty.” The two boys shared a laugh before making their way into the village while the Pegassi vanished from sight.

  Evening was nigh as the two boys entered the inn. The locals had already begun to gather at the close of another day, and once word spread of the visitors at the inn, far more gathered than was usual, the whole town in fact. They were intrigued by the stranger, but even more curious as to where the widow’s son had been and what tales he had to tell of the wide world upon his return.

  “So you are back,” said the Mayor as calmly as he could, “what can you tell us of the Outlands?”

  Brin said grimly, “that you may very soon know more of them than you could ever wish, tomorrow in fact.”

  The Mayor frowned, “what is this you say?”

  Brin continued, “a small company of evil soldiers will invade the village tomorrow at first light!”

  The Mayor laughed contemptuously, “you sound as mad as that stranger that came around about the time you ran off! Danger indeed! What could strangers find of bene
fit in this corner of the world?”

  Bayard asked, “what indeed?”

  The Mayor frowned at the boy’s seeming impertinence.

  Continued Bayard, “have you sons they can conscript? Daughters and wives they can ravage if they please? Goods and wealth they can plunder? They may just kill you for the fun of it! Come man, be sensible!”

  The Mayor glowered, “and what would two obstreperous youths know about such things?”

  The folk about him mumbled their agreement, shouting their objections to the upstart boys before them. The boys tried to reason with them, but the villagers would not listen. They vanished quietly into the night, leaving the villagers to laugh scornfully in their wake.

  Dawn came, and the Blackguard with it. They were not long in gathering the entire town upon the village green, where they trembled in unimaginable terror, at the very idea of which they had laughed mockingly only the night before. The captain grabbed the Mayor by his lapels and lifted him bodily off the ground, “remember me?”

  The Mayor stared, “it cannot be!”

  The captain laughed, “but it is!”

  The Mayor frowned, “and to think your own son would betray you, yet we would not listen!”

  The captain dropped the Mayor in astonishment, “my son? I was told the wretch was dead.” He looked about for Tyne, “where is that fool who claims to have killed the boy?”

  The soldiers were silent in terror, gawking about like peasants on their first trip to the city, unsure where to look next. Tyne came running from the edge of the village and soon felt the mood of his captain, said he in a terrified squawk, “your wife lies dead in her bed, Sir!”

  The man shook his head, “who cares about her, what is this I hear about my son?”

  Tyne cowered, “Sir?”

  The captain glared at the Mayor, who stuttered, “the boy was here last night, warning us of your coming.”

  The captain stared at Tyne, “well?”

  Tyne shrunk even further as he said, “I did kill the fool, but he has the uncanny habit of reappearing when you know him dead and least want him. Twice now I have seen him dead, yet he continues to come back! I cannot explain it.”

  The captain glowered, “and how did this minor detail escape mention when you told me you had made an end of the wretched child?”

  Tyne quivered, “I did not think it important nor could I explain it. I feared you would take me for a madman.”

  The captain forgot his terrified minion and said thoughtfully to himself, “so the wretch has discovered immortality? Perhaps I too can learn this secret.” He smiled avariciously.

  But his smile soon vanished as he found his company surrounded by a greater number of men in uniforms he hated to his core. The Whiteguard had come. The villagers were unsure of their sanity as this new troop of soldiers suddenly appeared in their once quiet village. “Drop your weapons and you need not be harmed,” came the confident voice of their captain.

  “It is your own life you should be worried about, fool!” came the snarling voice of the Dreadlord as he dismounted from his infernal beast.

  “Ware for your own skin, creature!” came Bayard’s challenge, as he galloped into the fray aback his Pegassi.

  The creature hissed in delight as it drew its sword, “you will not triumph this time, boy!” The Dreadlord fulfilled his own prediction as he smote the bothersome boy through the heart and he vanished in a flash of light. It snarled, “now where were we?”

  There came no answer but a howl of dismay as the creature fell to ash as Brin pierced him through from behind. He bowed formally to the captain of the Whiteguard, saying, “you may continue, Sir.” The man saluted the boy and gave him a grateful smile, but he soon lay gasping on the sward, mortally wounded by the enemy captain, who shook with rage and towered over the insignificant youth. The stunned soldiers finally woke from their stupor and fell upon one another in a swirl of death around their captain and his son.

  “Can it be?” snarled the dark captain at the unimpressed boy.

  Brin sheathed his blade and said quietly, “I was your son.”

  After a sharp intake of breath, the captain continued, “how did you come by such power?”

  The boy frowned, “what power?”

  The captain held his sword to the boy’s throat, “you will tell me the secret of your immortality and how you come to possess skill enough to vanquish so terrible a creature as a Dreadlord!”

  Brin shook his head sadly, “my knowledge cannot avail you unless you bend knee to the Master of All. It is His power alone that can conquer death and such awful foes. It is none of my doing.”

  “Fool!” squealed the captain, as he struck true.

  The boy, for a moment, lay stunned, but even the gravest wound from a mortal weapon could little harm him. The fell captain was now too busy fighting for his own life with the remainder of the Whiteguard to notice the boy’s miraculous recovery. Brin quietly crawled to where the dying captain lay and whispered, “come.” The man nodded weakly, even as he drew his last breath, shuddered, and lay still. The boy frowned, this was not how it was supposed to happen. He heard a quiet laugh behind him and turned to find Kipril and the dazed captain standing at his shoulder. The boy gaped, from where the captain stood to where the captain lay. No one else seemed to notice what was going on, though the fighting was nearly over with the more numerous Whiteguard victorious.

  Kipril grinned, as he said, “things are not always the same, especially in a public setting. I shall take care of your captain, you see if there are any others.” The boy smiled, rose, and dashed to the nearest of the downed Whiteguard, but the man was already dead. He shook his head in dismay and approached the next man.

  Of the five fallen Whiteguard, besides their Captain, two were already dead, two were not badly wounded and would recover, and the final man just stared at the boy in confusion before his eyes glazed in death. Kipril shook his head at the boy’s dismay, “it is ever their choice lad, as it was yours. Some are just not meant for this Service. Farewell!” He and the captain vanished aback the Pegassi, unseen by any of the mortal men about them.

  Brin stood and surveyed the carnage. Nine of the Blackguard lay dead or dying, three had surrendered, and the four remaining conscripts from the tourist’s camp were overjoyed at their sudden rescue. Tyne and his surviving crony were among those who had thrown down their swords. The former Second and now Captain of the Whiteguard approached the strange youth, “what can you tell us of this bizarre day, lad?”

  The boy shook his head, “not much, I fear. You spared this village much heartache, and now perhaps you can also give them hope for their souls. They know little of the Master, but perhaps will listen to their saviors this day. This once was my home, but no longer. Neither will they listen to such as I. I would have a word with your prisoners if I may?”

  The stunned soldier nodded, “with what I have seen, I think I dare deny you nothing! But we will speak with these folk of yours and see what comes of it. Such service is our duty and our honor.” Brin bowed deeply to the amazed captain, and then approached the terrified and glowering prisoners.

  “Brin,” snarled Tyne, as the boy approached, “come to mock me?”

  Brin shook his head, “simply to ask that you listen to what your captors have to say.”

  Tyne smiled viciously, “will they spare my life?”

  Brin shrugged, “that I cannot say, but if you truly believe, it will spare your soul!”

  Tyne growled, “I want nothing to do with you or your wretched master.”

  Brin shook his head sadly, “the choice is ever yours.” The other two soldiers said nothing but hope shone in their eyes; they too were young and not so stubborn as their vociferous companion. Brin said quietly as he turned to go, “listen well!” The only reply was Tyne’s mocking laugh.

  The villagers had by now rec
overed their senses and were helping the Whiteguard see to the dead and the wounded. Brin quietly approached the Mayor, who shied back in terror at his approach, “Sir, would you see to my mother’s remains as well?”

  The man gaped at the boy, “who or what are you?”

  Brin smiled, “the merest servant of the Master.” He bowed deeply and was suddenly lost to mortal gaze. The Mayor shook his head in wonder but called to one of the village boys and told him to go check the little house on the edge of town. Brin smiled, unseen by his late folk, and then dashed off faster than bird could fly, upon his next adventure.

  Erian stopped so suddenly he nearly unseated Clara. They both stared in amazement when the uncanny boy appeared unexpectedly before them. Clara slid from the horse’s back and dashed to Brin, giving him a joyous hug. Erian trotted over cautiously, but not without eagerness. Brin briefly recounted what happened in the village and the mortal pair exchanged an astonished look, even though he had left out the more bizarre details. “And where shall we poor refugees flee next?” came Clara’s teasing reply.

  Brin grinned eagerly, “why the Ruins of Ambrosia, my dear Lady!”

  She gasped in excitement and Erian laid his ears back in alarm, “why on earth would you want to go there?”

  Brin said firmly, “because we must.”

  Erian shook his head, “so be it, but there is nothing there for wretched mortals like us.” Brin smiled enigmatically but said nothing. Erian’s ears and enthusiasm both roused at the mystery in the boy’s manner, “we shall see indeed, come!” He gazed in irritation at the unmoving pair, “we will not get there if the two of you walk, now mount up!” They exchanged a smile and were soon aback the wondrous horse and off to their next adventure.

  “Will you not tell us more?” begged Clara of Brin, “of my brother and your own curious habits?”

  Brin shook his head, “I cannot, Lady. Certain things you can only learn in due time. You must be content with what has been revealed thus far.”

  Erian blew out his nostrils in frustration, “there has been little enough of that, my friend! Less worthy folk would have long ago abandoned you as a madman!”

  Brin patted the great beast’s neck in reassurance, “well, I am glad to have so great-hearted a friend indeed!”

  Clara smiled playfully, “perhaps I only keep company with you to ferret out your secrets!”

  “Weasel away dear Lady, but little more will you discover unless it be our Master’s will to reveal it.”

  She shook her head in exasperation, “you enjoy reveling in the mystery far too much I think.” Erian whinnied his agreement. Brin just smiled in amusement; they did have a point. They were not far from the fabled ruins, for they lay in the forgotten wilds of the world, near which Greenvale perched as the last outpost of civilization.

  Erian looked about them in dismay and murmured, “well, here we are.”

  “Where?” asked Clara, “here is nothing.” Brin smiled, seeing what their eyes could not.

  “Good day,” came the greeting from a strange masculine voice. Clara turned curious eyes upon the speaker, only to blush and avert her gaze. Brin looked the man over and decided he was the most handsome man he had ever seen; had he been mortal, he might well have been jealous. Erian just acted the dumb beast that he seemed. “My dear Lady!” gasped the dashing youth, “forgive me for discomfiting you! May I be of assistance?”

  Clara’s heart pounded in her throat as she breathlessly said, “I do not know, but perhaps you may aid me indeed. You see, I am a Princess in dire need of your help!”

  The stunning young man bowed deeply, “I am at your service, Highness.”

  Clara took the proffered hand and allowed the young man to help her from Erian’s back. He escorted her a polite distance, helped her to seat herself upon a stone, and then they began to speak fervently together.

  Erian turned his great head to look at the boy upon his back, “I am afraid you have lost your filly.”

  Brin smiled wistfully, “she was never mine to keep. What of you?”

  Erian frowned, “what do you mean?”

  Brin smiled mischievously, “does this place mean nothing to you?”

  The horse snorted, “it was your forefathers who built this ruined monument to their folly, what is it to me?”

  Brin said quietly, “all rebels would do well to remember the price of such pride.”

  Erian nodded, “in that you speak truly. What can this place hold for me besides such a reminder?”

  Brin smiled eagerly, “Life, if you will seek it.”

  The horse snorted, “there is nothing here but rocks and dust.” Bayard suddenly appeared aback his Pegassi. Both boys slid from their saddles. Erian laid his ears back and began to back away in terror from the new arrivals.

  The Pegassi scolded his fallen kinsman, “do you still fear that for which our race was made?”

  Erian stayed his retreat but hung his head in shame, “nay, my pride has cost me dear. Only disgrace and grief remain to me now.”

  The Pegassi whinnied eagerly, “then embrace our Master’s grace and let your sorrow be removed from you evermore!”

  Erian raised his head in amazement, “can such be true?”

  “Look!” said the other.

  And look he did and finally he Saw. The ruins of a great castle towered over him and the River fretted about its feet. “May I?” came the breathless reply.

  The Pegassi laughed in his horsy voice, “that is why we are here, is it not?”

  With all joy, the wretched mortal horse plunged himself into the rushing current and surfaced a renewed creature. He pranced up to Brin, who still looked a rather grubby peasant, and spread his great wings and reared in joy. The boy smiled and said, “well met, my dear Pegassi! Now, perhaps we can have a proper adventure together?”

  Erian laughed, “that would be fine by me. At last, I understand!”

  The Princess and her consort had been lost deep in discussion and had noticed nothing of the joyous happenings about them. The young knight grasped at his sword hilt when he noticed the strange boy approaching with the Princess’ servant. Clara gasped, “Bayard! You will accompany us?”

  The Messenger smiled joyously and bowed deeply to his sister, “if you wish it, my Lady.”

  She nodded regally, “I desire nothing else.”

  The young man, Aden by name, said quietly to Clara, “who are these boys, my Lady?”

  Clara smiled, “men to whom I owe my life, many times over. One is my brother, the other is my dearest friend.”

  Aden said in some dismay, “I see.”

  Brin smiled, catching the boy’s disappointment, “and only ever a friend, my fine Sir.”

  The youth brightened slightly, “perhaps this adventure will end better than any of us can hope.”

  Bayard shook his head, “it will be dangerous.”

  Aden said patronizingly, “could so valiant a Lady have so meek a brother?”

  Bayard smiled grimly, “I speak only for your own consideration, Sir. For none should face this quest unawares. I have already proven myself in my sister’s service and spilled my blood on her behalf.”

  Aden bowed contritely, “forgive me, Sire. I spoke without knowledge. Perhaps you will tell the tale as we travel?” Brin and Bayard shared a knowing smile, that would be a tale indeed! Aden eyed Brin curiously, “are you too of some noble lineage, despite your common appearance?”

  The boy laughed, “nay sir, I am descended from the poorest of the poor, yet my blood too has been shed in the Lady’s service.” Clara could barely stifle a sob at this reminder of what they had sacrificed on her behalf. Bayard placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and she smiled gratefully at this reminder that she was not accountable for their blood neither did they count their sacrifice vain.

  Aden said a little uncomfortably, trying to chang
e the subject, “so we are going to try and gain the Princess a throne?”

  Bayard shook his head, “we are going to confront my father and pray that he has had a great change of heart. We managed to rescue Clara from his vile schemes yet our people still languish under his brutal rule. Clara may perhaps sit on the throne one day, but that is not our ultimate goal.”

  The youth cocked his head in question, “what then is the purpose of our quest?”

  Brin smiled eagerly, “to bring the Master’s peace and joy to this aggrieved people, and perhaps even to change the heart of the King!”

  Aden’s boisterous laugh surprised his three companions and for a moment they were silent with shock. Bayard frowned, “what is so amusing, Sir Knight?”

  Aden said with barely contained mirth, “the thought that such valiant heroes cling to old myths and nursery tales! True warriors need no such nonsense. We live by a strict code of right and wrong, what is noble and what is not. We need no fairy tales to guide our lives.”

  “From whence does this code of ethics then come?” asked Brin, “men certainly cannot agree on what is right and wrong; we are far too fickle and self-serving!”

  Aden shook his head, “a true Knight is not such as you have described; we are quite capable of governing ourselves.”

  Bayard said grimly, “my father thought what he was doing was right and therefore we must be seen as criminals and traitors in his eyes.”

  Aden was silent in thought for a moment before he replied, “I had not thought of that. Come, we can at least ride as I think upon this matter.” The others nodded their agreement and were soon in their saddles and upon their way.

  Aden trailed behind the others, deep in thought, giving them a chance to speak amongst themselves. Clara glanced back at the Knight with a dreamy smile upon her face every few moments. The Messengers exchanged a worried look, fearing Clara was falling for this self-proclaimed heretic. Bayard broke the silence and interrupted his sister’s daydreams, “Clara, what are you thinking?”

  She smiled wistfully, “he is quite handsome.”

  Bayard shook his head, “and?”

  She frowned, “and what?”

  Bayard said sternly, “he is no servant of the Master!”

  She replied hopefully, “hearts can change!”

  Bayard shook his head, “perhaps, but you cannot pursue such a man in hopes he will change. He is more likely to change you.”

  Clara sighed heavily, “you are right, but this is not what I wanted to hear.”

  Brin smiled encouragingly at her, “fear not, there is a plan and a purpose in all of this. You have not lost anything by trusting our Master before, in fact your own life has been spared and you will never lose us, though death tried to sunder us.”

  She brightened at this and then blushed at her girlish affectations. She said quietly, “you are quite right. Having come through all that I have, you would think I would have grown beyond such girlish infatuations. At least I have such wonderful friends to set me straight when I am too charmed to think for myself.” She smiled gratefully at both of them, causing them to blush in their turn, which caused them all to laugh.

  This sudden outburst of mirth finally drew the attention of Aden, who urged his horse forward that he might join his compatriots, asking, “what have I missed?”

  Clara smiled deeply, “just a private joke among old friends. What have you been thinking so long and hard upon Sir Knight?”

  He sighed, “I am having reservations about going on this quest. It should be quite straightforward in that we are challenging a vicious tyrant for the throne, yet there is no simple answer. How can I challenge a sitting King who was only doing what he thought was right and his children rebelled against him? Is it not wrong to disobey your parents? To rebel against the King?”

  Bayard nodded, “now you see why men cannot make their own moral code. We can make laws, but there are Laws greater than our conventions and rules. Love and Justice are written into the very fabric of reality. Defying my father breaks the laws of men, but I could not obey a man who violated the greater Law of the Master. I must rather obey my Master than men. We are traitors according to the laws of my country, yet we did what Justice and Love demanded and thereby kept the Master’s Laws though we broke the laws of men. Would you obey an unjust law?”

  Aden shook his head, “how can any law be unjust? If it were, it could not be a law!”

  Bayard nodded, “that is my point. When someone demands you do something wrong and says you must because it is a law, are you wrong in defying them? This is why we need a higher source for our Laws, Morals, and Ethics, for the laws and desires of men will only conflict with one another, whereas the Master’s ways are perfect, above reproach or argument, and the best possible way for us to live.”

  Aden frowned, “I see your point, but I still cannot admit that there can be anything higher than the laws of men. And in defying your father, you have all become traitors! And my own code of ethics will not let me aid those who willingly involve themselves in treachery. Princess, will you accompany me to your father that we might straighten this matter out? I fear these two have had a negative influence upon you, but perhaps there is still hope if you will come with me.”

  Brin and Erian interposed themselves between Aden and Clara, who rode with her brother. Brin said grimly, “we will accompany her and see that justice is achieved for all involved. You may come if you wish, but she will not be going off alone in your company.”

  Aden looked pleadingly at the girl, who cast down her eyes in disappointment and shook her head in resignation. His face hardened and he said to Brin with gritted teeth, “you have corrupted this poor girl and I would be amiss not to do something about it. I hereby challenge you to a duel for this Lady’s honor and my own!”

  Brin gaped, “you cannot be serious!” Aden looked nothing but serious. Brin said quietly, “this will not avail either of us.”

  Aden shook his head, “I will not be gainsaid. You will do the honorable thing and relinquish the girl to my care or you will force my hand.”

  Bayard chimed in, “is not kidnapping a crime?”

  Aden said roughly, “not when I am rescuing her from such lawless men.”

  Brin shook his head, “that is what we are trying to do with her father!”

  Aden’s frown deepened, “the King is the source of the Law and therefore he cannot be lawless! You are traitors!”

  Brin slid from his saddle and unsheathed his sword, saying, “this is utterly ridiculous but I will humor you until you learn that this will get us nowhere.”

  Aden dismounted and faced off with his foe, “at least you have a little honor it seems.”

  Clara gave a horrified look to Bayard, who only smiled slightly and shook his head; there was little either combatant could do to hurt the other. Brin knew his sword was useless against a mortal foe, but only indulged the fool in hopes he would learn the futility of addressing his confusion in this manner. The Knight was a superb swordsman and Brin was no match for such skill, though he seemed to possess an innate ability with the hitherto unknown weapon. Clara gasped in horror as Brin dropped senseless with a mortal stroke as Aden examined his sword in wonder, there was not a drop of blood upon it. He stared at his prone adversary and frowned as the boy stirred and then sat up with a roguish grin on his face.

  “That is not how one rids the world of such pests,” came a disdainful voice, “this is how it is done.” Brin reached for his sword upon hearing the familiar and dreaded voice, but it was too late. Tyne’s sword struck Brin’s vulnerable neck and he vanished in a flash of light.

  Aden stared in awe, “what was he? He should have been dead, but neither did he bleed!”

  Tyne stared menacingly at Clara and Bayard, as he answered, “he is already dead. I killed the meddlesome fool months ago, as I did the girl’s treacherous brother. Yet
still they interfere in the affairs of mortals. That is why I am here, to aid you in your quest against such ignoble foes.”

  Aden gasped, “ghosts? Zombies? Demons?”

  Bayard snorted in amusement, “you will not believe in the Master yet you will believe in such apparitions?”

  Aden shook his head, “the proof is before me.”

  Tyne nodded, “such ghosts are not worthy of your consideration.”

  Bayard challenged, “you are one to speak Tyne. You no longer number among the living yourself. What vile rites did you undergo to gain such power? At least our blood was shed in service to something greater than ourselves, not in a self-serving grasp for power!” Clara shivered and drew closer to her brother, afraid of her former kidnapper and whatever vile creature he had willingly become.

  Tyne laughed derisively, “you died a traitor’s death, fool! I willingly offered myself to the power that rules this vile earth. You left me a prisoner, but my master did not forget me. They came for me in the dead of night and bore me to a place unspeakable. There I became something greater than a pitiful, mortal man!”

  “You have forever condemned your soul Tyne!” said Bayard in horror, “no matter what transient benefit you reap in the interim.”

  Tyne simply laughed him to scorn and then turned his attention to the flummoxed young Knight, “now what of you?”

  Aden paled, “what do you mean?”

  Tyne said, “you must decide what to do with yourself.”

  Bayard cautioned, “you need not listen to him!”

  Tyne snarled, “quiet you! He must decide for himself.”

  Clara whispered to her brother, “can you not help him?”

  Bayard shook his head, “only if Tyne openly threatens him or tries to force him against his will. If he willingly tolerates the Spy’s presence, so too must we.”

  Tyne addressed Aden once more, “would you aid this confused girl and her betrayed father or would you sit here and chat with this treacherous ghost to no end?”

  Aden asked, “you would see that justice is done for the betrayed King and perhaps even rescue the Lady from her wretched brother’s influence?”

  Tyne nodded, “that is exactly my aim.”

  Aden turned pleadingly to Clara, “will you not come with us Lady? Free yourself from the clutches of your vile brother.”

  Clara wept openly, “can you not see that he is evil? He it was that slew my unarmed friend and took me captive. He that murdered the Crown Prince when he came to the aid of his imperiled sister. Can you truly listen to such a creature?”

  Aden shook his head resignedly, “you were the traitor first in defying your father. All else that followed was the result of your own treachery. You will not come?”

  She shook her head vehemently and Bayard reined his Pegassi away from Tyne. “Give me the girl,” snarled the Spy.

  Bayard grinned, “you will have to catch us first.” Tyne snarled in frustration as the Pegassi reared and vanished with his passengers.

  Aden gaped, “where have they gone?”

  Tyne snarled, “to interfere once more in her father’s affairs, no doubt. We had best make our way thither and hope we do not arrive too late.” Aden nodded, mounted his horse, and followed swiftly after his new companion in hopes of doing some heroic deed ere all was ended. His mind swirled in confusion, trying to comprehend all that had just come to pass.

  Brin appeared suddenly in the River, flailing in surprise, but realizing where he was, he relaxed and was immediately borne to the bank where Erian was already waiting for him. The Pegassi snorted, “this is no time for a swim.”

  Brin smiled as he climbed aback the great beast, “then why are you just standing here when we have things to be about?” The Pegassi gave him a patient look but was not long in vanishing from sight. They reappeared in a great hall of an ornate castle.

  Brin dismounted and asked of his companion, “will you not draw questions?”

  Erian snorted, “they will not see me, my fine servant.”

  Brin frowned and then looked down at himself and smiled to discover himself in a servant’s livery. Said he, “this shall be interesting.” Brin made his way deeper into the hall to find that he was in the throne room, alone save the disconsolate figure upon the throne. The boy boldly approached the dispirited King, who noticed nothing but his own despair. The boy said quietly to the King, “can I be of help, Majesty?”

  The man flinched in surprise and glared at the impertinent servant, “I ordered that I not be disturbed!”

  The boy smiled impishly, “but that is not what you need right now, Sire.”

  The man stared in disbelief, “do you want to lose your head? What would you know about any of this anyway?”

  The boy said quietly, “you are in great distress Sire and need someone to listen. I will gladly be of assistance if that is your desire.”

  The old man snorted at the boldness of the boy and said, “perhaps, perhaps.” He then began to tell of his broken dreams, his shattered aspirations, and his desolate house. His beloved wife had died some years ago, leaving two wonderful children, but alas they too had been lost to him and now he was left alone with nothing but his own guilt and grief. He had once been content and a good King, but had listened to the advice of a vile man and fallen prey to the enticements of pride and it had cost him everything he truly loved. He stared with haunted eyes at the boy before him, “I was a fool lad, a fool! And now I am lost, forever lost!”

  The boy shook his head adamantly, “nay Sire, for there is One who can forgive your past and give you a hope for tomorrow and ever after.”

  The King was curious and listened as the boy told again all the old tales of the Master and His love for wandering humanity. His wife’s devotion to that Great Lord had been passed on to his lost children, but in his growing pride, he had scoffed at such tales and turned his attention elsewhere. The thought that they would not be lost to him forever gave hope to his despairing heart and brought eager tears to his eyes. He smiled gently at this bold child, saying, “I forsook Him yet He will never forsake me! Ah, I have truly been a fool, but not fool enough to remain so forever. Thank you lad!”

  But the boy was gone. The King frowned in consternation but a small ruckus at the other end of the hall drew his attention. He gaped in astonishment and then fainted dead away at the vision before him. Clara rushed to her father’s prone form while Bayard and Brin approached more slowly, speaking quietly together. The King roused at his daughter’s touch and looked up in disbelief into gentle eyes he thought never to see again. He smiled, “is this too a dream?”

  She smiled gently, “nay Sire, it is very real.”

  He sat up slowly and gasped upon sighting Bayard, “this cannot be true.”

  The boy said quietly, “no Sire, we are very much here; this is no dream.”

  Clara helped him to his feet, but he went to his knees, weeping, “can you ever forgive me? I was an utter fool, and lost everything I loved because of it!” His children knelt beside him, embraced him, and he knew that he was forgiven and still loved. Brin watched wistfully, wondering what might have been if his own father had been so repentant.

  Erian stood beside him and nudged him affectionately with his great nose, “we whose trust is in the Master are never truly alone.”

  He stroked the velvety muzzle and smiled warmly, “thank you, my friend.”

  The reunited family finally found their feet and had dried their tears. The King suddenly noticed the bold servant, who had encouraged him so much, and called the boy over. Then he frowned, thinking he recognized the boy, but it could not be. Then his frown deepened as he remembered what had come of his son. He gasped, “can it truly be? I remember you now boy and you should be dead, as should my son.”

  Bayard nodded, “we are truly here father, but no longer can we dwell among mortal men, save upo
n those errands our Master sets us.”

  He glanced at Clara and she laughed, “it is all quite strange, Sire, but you grow used to it with time. They have been quite a help to me in all my wanderings of late. Do not fear, I at least have come home to stay.” He smiled at this, shook his head in wonder at the two Messengers, and then led them to a place where they might talk about their adventures and the future of the Kingdom.

  They had not long to conspire before a servant entered the silent hall to announce a very remarkable visitor. The King glanced up in surprise, having forgotten that a bevy of servants waited nervously while he stewed in his own misery. The servant was quite astonished to find the man not alone, and even more amazed to see the lost children of the King restored to their father. The broad smile on his Majesty’s face was joy itself to the timid servant.

  “What news, man?” came the King’s anxious question, only something vital would send the man into the throne room against all orders to the contrary.

  The newly heartened servant said, “Majesty, there is a young man who wishes an audience, he claims to have seen your sundered children and wishes to restore justice to the Kingdom.”

  The King glanced at his companions and Bayard said knowingly, “we came across a young Knight who wishes to make a name for himself yet cannot decide what true justice is Sire, when we parted he was in the company of a fiend most vile.”

  The King looked grimly at the servant, “admit this curious visitor.”

  Aden soon followed the servant into the King’s presence and was not surprised to see his former companions already present. He bowed gracefully and said without preamble, “Highness, your children are traitors and I offer you my aid in seeing that justice is had by all.”

  The King looked sadly upon this confused youth and replied, “nay, it was I that was out of my mind with pride. I dared terrible things and denied justice to all but myself. My dear children merely clung to what they knew to be right and good and true when I demanded things of them that no man should ask of another, let alone father of child. I thought I had lost everything in my arrogance, but it is restored to me tenfold, most importantly I have found peace and humility.”

  The boy was agape, “you would let your own children deceive you Sire?”

  “Nay,” said the King with a voice old as the hills, “it was I that deceived myself and they that suffered for it.”

  The young man drew himself up in surprise, “it saddens me to see Sire, that such a wise monarch should fall to the tales of these disobedient scoundrels. I had come with your best interests at heart yet it seems that you would dwell contently in the valley of Deception. So be it Highness, I shall simply have to find my own country where rationality is the order of the day.” He was silent a moment and then an ironic smile grew on his face, “I shall go back to the ruins of that great legend, Ambrosia. There we shall see if man’s destiny lies with reason or with fairy tales!” He bowed himself out and left the four to exchange a curious look.

  The King said, “I did not understand any of that.”

  Brin said thoughtfully, “he set out from home to discover his destiny, as so many adventurous boys dream. Yet he did not have a foundation in the Truth thus he was blown about on any vagrant wind. He thought he had discovered a quest but found the details not to his liking and abandoned it for the better sounding promises of a vile servant of the Enemy. Being thwarted again by your change of heart, Sire, he now seeks a means to redeem himself. I fear he feels cheated by legend so he shall see if legend may in turn avail him. He means to rebuild the greatest monument to man’s folly ever erected.”

  The King gaped, “but there is nothing with which to rebuild that lost ruin! It will cost a fortune and take the rest of his mortal life.”

  Bayard shook his head, “as Brin said, it is a monument to folly! But that will not stop him from trying.”

  They shared several merry days together, saw that the King and Clara were well settled with great plans for the future, and then Brin and Bayard knew the time had come for their departure. The Kingdom sighed in relief to have peace and justice restored to the land and hope restored to the King. The boys mounted their eager Pegassi as the King and his daughter gathered in the courtyard to bid them a teary farewell. Bayard grinned gaily at his distraught father and sister saying, “fear not dear ones! We are not long sundered, but I cannot remain here when we each have our own tasks to be about.”

  She smiled sadly at Brin, “off to have adventures without me it seems.”

  He laughed, “Lady, you will have adventure enough rebuilding this Kingdom and finding a husband equal to the task of being King.”

  She laughed through her tears, “I suppose I shall have the greater adventure after all!”

  The King smiled deeply and said to them both, “I cannot thank you enough! Do not be long a stranger, either of you! Farewell!” The Messengers waved once more and suddenly vanished in a flutter of brilliant wings.

  They joined Kipril on the bank of the River and shared a curious smile at all the activity going on in the once desolate spot. The men could not see the Messengers or the Pegassi, any more than they could see the ancient ruins and the rushing River. Brin gasped, “the Tourist!”

  Kipril nodded, “your young friend is quite determined to rebuild this legend and he fell in with just the man willing to finance the entire operation.”

  Bayard shook his head, “this is madness! It will cost a fortune to build anything out here! There isn’t even a farm for miles, only raw timber and uncut stone.”

  Brin grinned, “the more futile the better, at least as far as our venerable tourist is concerned. The crazier the idea, the more willing he is to finance it. But what will Aden gain by rebuilding this monstrosity?”

  Kipril shook his head gravely, “the same thing our ancestors hoped for: glory for themselves rather than seeking that of our Master.”

  Bayard shook his head, “pride can end in only one way!”

  Brin frowned, “will the Master even allow it?”

  Kipril said grimly, “legend holds that anyone building anything in this spot is risking grave danger, for it was forbidden long ago and the embargo has never been lifted.”

  Brin asked, “can they not be warned?”

  Kipril shook his head, “I tried when first they came. They only laughed at me and called me jealous!”

  Bayard nodded grimly, “that is not surprising. Now what?” They all exchanged a sudden smile and knew exactly what errands they were to be about. They mounted their Pegassi and vanished from that now busy hillside, about their Master’s business.

  Twenty years passed quite quickly for the Messengers and nearly did they forget the project, except when an enemy’s blade struck true and sent them headlong into the River from whence they must start anew, but also giving them a chance to see the progress of the great project. They were quite astonished to find themselves one day upon that same hillside, admiring the nearly completed monument, forgetting that to mortals, Time flowed differently than it did for the Messengers. Kipril whistled, “nothing like the original, but quite impressive!”

  Bayard shook his head in amusement and wonder, “of course they cannot see the original, but by modern standards it is quite magnificent. I wonder if man lost so much knowledge and skill at the Fall or if it simply atrophied over time?”

  “Can I help you gentlemen?” came an aged though vaguely familiar voice. Brin grinned, it was the Tourist, albeit quite a bit older but still vibrant! He frowned at the trio and then recognition dawned, at least for the two younger. “Wonderful to see you chaps alive still, that was quite a horrid adventure I am sure,” said he in astonishment, “whatever happened to that lovely beast, I wonder?”

  Brin shrugged and said, “we are grateful to be alive my friend and that is all I can say.”

  “I suppose,” shrugged the aged man, who then brightened, “w
hat think you of our lovely little project? Come, I will show you about.”

  The trio obediently followed the man over the bridge spanning the chasm in which the unseen River flowed, pointing out all the architectural wonders about them. Bayard asked, “did you not have a partner in all of this?”

  The man shook his head grimly, “terrible that. There are rumors going around that the whole project is cursed! Really! Who believes in curses any more? But yes, there has been an uncanny streak of bad luck, including the death of my young partner whose vision inspired the whole thing. We push on however, in defiance of fate as it were.”

  Brin asked, “what came of the young man?”

  The tourist shook his head, “he fell over this very bridge into the chasm below. Quite an unfortunate accident. We have had a number of such accidents and setbacks. One would think some Will resisted our own in rebuilding this great tribute to human glory!”

  Kipril queried, “how close are you to finishing?”

  The tourist smiled proudly, “another fortnight will finish the project if all goes well.” The three Messengers exchanged an intrigued look and wondered what would come of the matter in the days ahead.

  The project was very close to complettion and the Messengers found themselves hanging about the place, as if they had some part to play in the drama yet to unfold. Two days before finishing, an argument arose amongst the workers, half were terrified of the legends that warned against building anything in this place and the others who simply wanted the promised bonus if they finished on time. It nearly came to blows before the Tourist was able to talk his enraged minions into sensibility. He allowed the nervous workers to bow out early while promising a greater bonus to those that remained, this convinced several of the superstitious lot to suddenly change their minds while their compatriots slunk off, muttering darkly of evils yet to come. They returned to their work with even greater zeal, in anticipation of the promised bonus.

  The Tourist was quite pleased with himself, at least until a company of the Blackguard rode up and challenged his ownership of the place. He turned deathly pale and shrunk back from his pride and joy. The captain and his eleven men laughed at his terror, thinking they had won an easy victory. “They will take my treasure from me again!” sobbed the old man as Brin drew him aside.

  The boy shook his head, “let them have the castle, but look to your own soul ere it is too late. That is the greatest treasure of all.” The old man gaped at the boy but allowed himself to be led away from the project and listened intently as Brin told of the Greatest Gift of All.

  Bayard and Kipril sat their mounts upon the bridge over the great chasm, challenging the Blackguard, “it is folly to come further. It was folly to build this monument, but it is worse to come and steal it away! Go, ere you rue it forever!”

  “Hah!” spat the captain, “we will take it nonetheless! Out of the way ere we are forced to cut our way through you.”

  Bayard shook his head, “at least let the laborers go free.”

  The captain scoffed, “let them be gone then, I have no interest in peasant scum. Off with all of you, loiterers will be dealt with lethally!”

  The pair turned their mounts and galloped into the courtyard, proclaiming, “for your lives men, run!”

  Tools were suddenly dropped and all and sundry dashed from the castle, knowing their very lives depended upon it. The Blackguard laughed as they fled. The Messengers were the last to leave, certain that no one remained within. The captain waited for the fools to pass and then motioned for his own men to enter the towering citadel, but suddenly the bridge began to shake, as if in an earthquake, and the entire structure plunged into the chasm beneath, bearing with it the two Messengers and the entire Blackguard. Brin watched from the far side with the Tourist and his workmen in stunned horror. “Cursed indeed!” said the Tourist in awe, turning back to the boy he said, “pray, continue your story.” The entire company listened attentively as the boy continued, horrified by what they had just witnessed.

  The two Messengers and their Pegassi were plunged into the River, from which they emerged unscathed but unseen by mortal eye. The company of soldiers lay buried in the rubble of the bridge at the bottom of the chasm. The castle stood boldly alone on its reclaimed hill. Suddenly a raven lit upon the flagstaff upon the highest tower and the whole edifice seemed to collapse under its weight; the bird took wing, squawking in indignation while twenty years of work crumbled into dust. The carrion eater landed before the astonished workmen, suddenly taking on the form of a man.

  “Tyne!” said Brin in wonder.

  The Spy smiled superciliously, “yes?” The other two Messengers suddenly appeared between the Spy and his mortal audience, causing Tyne to smirk all the more. Mocked he, “quite the vain monument I see! What shoddy workmanship!”

  Kipril shook his head, “it was as well built as any work of men’s hands. It has been forbidden to build such monuments here since the founding of the world! It is no surprise that it was not allowed to stand.”

  Bayard smiled in amusement, “so much for claiming it as your own!”

  The Tourist frowned, “why all the prohibitions and fuss about this particular hill?”

  Kipril said, “here it was that the River of Life flowed strong and deep, but it is now lost to mortal men for our rebellion against our Master.”

  Tyne sneered, “fear not, my master will find a way to restore it so that he might reap its power!”

  Brin shook his head, “it does not need to be restored, it flows ever true! But to many, it cannot be touched, seen, nor heard.”

  Even as he spoke, the River’s voice increased to a great roar, as of the sea in storm; it suddenly became a river in flood and its banks vanished beneath its increasing breadth, as if it meant to consume the entire world. For so it did. Tyne stepped back in horror, for he saw not a flood but a great abyss opening before him, set to consume all reality. The Tourist and his men saw either the River or the Abyss, depending where each man’s heart lay, whether he served the Master or himself. Those that had heard Brin’s words and accepted them with a grateful heart looked in wonder upon the River while the others shared Tyne’s horror as the Abyss widened before them. All this passed in a matter of moments and none had time to react. The River or the Abyss suddenly spread over the whole face of the earth and all that day suddenly found themselves awash in Light and Life itself or plunged forever into impenetrable Night. When the water receded and the Abyss vanished from memory, the world was utterly changed, so wondrous I have not words to describe it, and ever did their Master dwell among them.