Mournenhile

By William Kenney

The bitter cold of Mournenhile's power has gripped the land, his horrific armies sweeping into the west, intent on destroying all who oppose him. His most deadly creations, his twin children born of a mortal woman, lead his armies against the servants of the Wind. Malhain now has command of S'Darin's ghost and his immense power. If he can reunite the broken pieces of the mage's staff, none will be able to stand against him.
Windenn has returned, changed and all-powerful, also coveting this sacred artifact, her twisted mind set on destroying Mournenhile. Hagan and his companions reluctantly assist her in her quest of destruction, realizing quickly that bringing an end to one devil only replaces him with another.
Elfwhere is in ashes and the Dwarven kingdom of Pahn Pirik is locked in a civil war brought on by the death of their Queen. With the help of the Addrefae, Vasparian once again leaves his homeland in the hopes of stopping the eastern army.
When a young and foolish prince takes it upon himself to wrest Harquinn from Malhain's control, a chain of events will be set in motion, bringing Men, Elves and even Dwarves into a climactic battle that will change the state of the world of Kirkaldin forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Kenney
• Release date: Mar 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311175748

William Kenney

William Kenney is an American writer of fantasy fiction. He writes mainly dark epic fantasy and has also written in the horror genre. Kenney began writing while in high school, trying his hand at novels in the science fiction and fantasy genre. After reading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien, he began to focus on epic fantasy. In the year 2000 Kenney wrote A Dream of Storms, the first book of the In the Shadow of the Black Sun trilogy. This book was eventually published in July of 2011, with its sequel Shards of S'Darin being released a year later. 2014 saw the release of the final book in the trilogy called Mournenhile.William Kenney has also written 2 books in his Tales of Embremere series aimed at younger readers. Book one is entitled Embremere, with Return to Embremere being its sequel.Kenney has also published a horror novella called Undergrowth as an homage to H. P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe, a horror novel called Ingheist and Die Dead Enough, a story of the zombie apocalypse.With co-author Stefain, William has created Maidenjade, a dark fantasy anthology series featuring thieves and assassins in a desperate city. Two books have been released so far.William Kenney is also an accomplished artist, having painted the covers to his own books as well as many by independent authors. He currently lives in the St. Louis area, is married and has two children.Twitter- @WilliamJKenneyBlog- AuthorWilliamKenney.blogspot.comWriters Circle- SkulldustCircle.blogspot.comVisit the Facebook page for A Dream of Storms at http://www.facebook.com/ADreamofStorms

Book preview

In the Shadow of the Black Sun

Book Three:

Mournenhile

by

William Kenney

Published by William Kenney at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 William Kenney

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright 2014 William Kenney

Cover art by William Kenney

Acknowledgements

For those who have enjoyed this story and patiently waited for its conclusion. Your support is always appreciated.

A full-color map of Kirkaldin can be found at the following link:

World Map of Kirkaldin

[e-mail]

AuthorWilliamKenney.blogspot.com

Books by William Kenney

The In The Shadow of the Black Sun Trilogy

A Dream of Storms

Shards of S'Darin

Mournenhile

The Tales of Embremere series

Embremere

Return to Embremere

Others

Undergrowth (a horror novella)

Shadewraiths over Pandaria (an In the Shadow of the Black Sun short story)

CHAPTER ONE

He could see her face as if through a dense fog, moving and shifting about in a ghost-like manner. Her mouth contorted into a frightened scream, yet he could barely hear the sound. She began to quickly fade before his eyes, her pale fingers reaching out and clutching at the emptiness between them. He was powerless to help her. He tried to run to her, an invisible force resisting his movement as if he fought against the strongest of tides.

"Maerin!"

He sat up in bed, his blankets falling to the floor, the chill of the night air hitting his bare chest. He glanced frantically about as the last echoes of his voice died out. He brought a hand to his head, his hair now slick with sweat from the recurring nightmare.

Yet one could hardly call it a nightmare, for a Dreamsinger had brought the dream to him. Their gift allowed them to join one dreamer's consciousness with that of another. He and Maerin had been connected within the dream world allowing them to communicate over the great distance that separated them. Since the fall of Harquinn, she had gone into hiding somewhere within the city and her situation now appeared bleak. So many had died at Malhain's command.

It had now been months since his trip to Harquinn, visiting at his father's request to broker a new trade agreement between the council and Musterdown far to the south. His father was king and so Kastian a prince, albeit the youngest of three and by far the least powerful. It had come as no surprise that King Austius had sent him as his representative. Sending one of his own sons was a sign of respect, yet he would never have risked the elder princes, they being far too important.

Kastian raised his eyes to the rectangular window set in his chamber wall, the moon brightly illuminating the mountains to the north. He knew that beyond those mountains, Maerin waited for him. She was in danger and it tore at his heart. They had spent so little time together, yet he had quickly fallen for her, hair of auburn and eyes of the deepest brown.

This is how he struggled each night, longing for his dreams with her, yet dreading them as well.

Something had to be done.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and caught his reflection in the mirror.

What kind of man would ignore his woman's cries for help? What kind of prince? He studied himself for a moment, his hair hanging below his shoulders, his skin tanned from a lifetime in the burning climate of the south. He met his own eyes, reflecting the pale moonlight and the fear that was near to overflowing from inside of him.

He stood and quickly pulled on his trousers, then his dress boots. Formal uniform would be required on this night.

I'm coming, Maerin and nothing in all of Kirkaldin can stop me, he said in a whisper as he crossed to the far wall and the swords that were displayed upon the table there. A prince of Musterdown carried the rarest of blades and his were indeed a marvel of workmanship, bringing a smile to his face as he strapped them around his waist. He slipped into a shirt of deepest orange, a color that only the nobles were permitted to wear, and buttoned it up the front.

From his chest of drawers, he retrieved a folded piece of brown parchment, held fast with the wax seal of his father the king. The elaborate letter 'A', supported by the horns of a dragonbuck at either side stood out in relief within the red seal. He had always had an artistic flair and could now add forgery to his list of skills. He regretted the lie, but there was no other way to convince his garrison of knights to ride north into battle. He prayed that the ruse would get him at least as far as the mountains before his father caught wind of it. The soldiers were sworn to serve Kastian unquestioningly, five thousand strong.

This night would be his only chance, for the Fadentide had come, a sacred ritual enacted when a king's dragonbuck had reached the end of its natural life. The honored steed would be offered to the ebb and flow of the sea as it passed into the afterlife and an eternity of peace at last. An elaborate procession would precede the ceremony, the king's army marching through the streets and eventually gathering there on the shore to bid the great beast farewell as midnight arrived.

A perfect distraction, Kastian thought.

He breathed in deeply and pulled the door to his chamber open. Gellik turned his head toward him as he leaned against the wall just beyond his door. Assigned at Kastian's birth, he served as his personal guard and was always at his side. He ran a hand over his balding head and cleared his throat.

Cutting it close, aren't you, my lord? I was just about to rouse you when I heard you....awaken, he said, straightening his breastplate. I'm sure your brothers are already on the march.

No one would miss me were I not in attendance. As long as the people see the important sons, they would never notice, Kastian remarked as he turned the corner and headed down the corridor, the long tapestries swaying as he passed. And I do not relish the thought of the offering either.

It is your duty as son of the King. We all have our place, my lord. Third in line for the throne of Musterdown is nothing to scoff at.

Kastian simply glared in Gellik's direction, his palms growing moist at the thought of defying his father.

Would you defend me regardless of the circumstances, Gellik? he asked as they descended a flight of stairs toward the main entry hall of the castle.

To the death, Lord Kastian, you know that. My sword is yours, my life is yours. It shall be so until I sleep in the grave, Gellik answered, frowning curiously at the nature of the question.

Why do you do it? Why did you agree to serve me? asked Kastian.

It is a most honorable position. Your father asked and I accepted. We've been best friends since we were boys. He trusts me like no other and I would never break that trust.

The cool night air struck their faces as they stepped out into the courtyard where their saddled steeds waited, two muscular dragonbucks tossing their heads about in anticipation. Gellik was in the saddle quickly, turning to regard Kastian with a grin.

Come on, my lord. Time to do your duty.

Wrapping both hands around the saddlehorn, Kastian threw his leg over and vaulted on to the dragonbuck's back.

Your soldiers await, Gellik added with a gesture toward the lights of the barracks in the city below.

Kastian shook his head in frustration.

Let's get this over with, he said, his hand on the forged parchment at his hip.

She strode forward, ignoring all present, her attention on the slim piece of smoldering wood now in her grasp. The trees that had once covered the immediate area were now little more than smoking ash. Hagan's eyes went from Windenn's face to the air above them where Davaris had been consumed by the might of S'Darin's sorcery.

It can't be. He's not dead.

He's not dead, he repeated out loud, dropping to his knees in grief, his eyes darting about in disbelief. He always pulls through. He always...pulls through.

Shindire knelt next to him, her hands on his shoulders.

I am so sorry, mae, she whispered, stroking his hair.

Gone. He's just...gone, said Hagan, turning his moist eyes toward her.

It's better off this way, Windenn said coldly while caressing the staff. This way, I didn't have to take this from him. He would have put up a fight.

Hagan glared up at her, his eyes hateful and hard. The dark figures that had accompanied her moved slowly forward in silence. As they drew closer, he could begin to make out their features and in horror he quickly stood.

"Windenn...what have you done?' he asked. These inhuman constructs had been fashioned in the likeness of himself, Gorin and his dead brother D'Pharin. They were a revolting nightmare to behold, their awkward bodies roughly thrown together from the very earth itself. Chunks of wood and moss stuck out from their torsos, their limbs largely branches twisted at odd angles to imitate bone and musculature. Their eyes were lifeless and blank as they stared ahead oblivious to everything around them.

Hagan took two steps toward the monster that was meant to represent his brother. The body's size and shape were accurate, however the face was grotesque, its eyes seemingly made from polished river stones, dull grey in appearance.

Do my companions disturb you? Windenn asked, her gaze never leaving the staff.

My brother is dead and you bring this mockery of him into existence? What the hell is wrong with you? Of course, it disturbs me, he said, moving in her direction in anger.

Her eyes finally turned to him as he approached, the smallest hint of concern flickering in them as she spoke.

D'Pharin is dead? she asked, unblinking.

Killed by Malhain as we fled Harquinn, Shindire explained as she moved up to hold Hagan's arm.

"What is this? Windenn asked, motioning to the Elf's obvious display of affection. She grinned and shook her head in amusement. The two of you?"

Hagan nodded, his teeth clenching.

Windenn's laughter cut through the Whispermist, jealousy boiling in her chest. She fixed Shindire with her stare, the smile disappearing from her face.

I thought you would be dead by now, Elf. I didn't think the others would tolerate that attitude of yours for this long.

She turned to Hagan.

This one was so high and mighty, so lofty and above us. Do you see yourself as above me now, Graelund? she asked.

Windenn... warned Hagan.

I should turn your blood to dust girl. I should show you who the lesser being is.

Leave her be, said Hagan. What happened to you, Windenn? This is not who you were before.

Before I was beaten, tortured? she asked with a scowl. Before the power inside of me took me away from that wretched dungeon and out of the claws of Khienen? Do you really want to know what happened to me, Hagan?

I am just happy to see you alive, Hagan said.

She turned away, holding the staff at eye level.

You won't be.

Lord Hagan, the Red Lion said, turning their heads. We must find the others. They are not safe lost in this place.

They could be anywhere... Shindire said, moving to the Lion's side, studying the twisted trees in the distance, their forms hazy and blurred.

Without looking up, Windenn pointed into the east.

They are there. The one kills the other, she stated all too calmly.

What? the Lion asked, doubting her truthfulness.

I would hurry if I were you. The black-eye is breathing her last breaths.

The three of them ran headlong toward the trees, their boots snapping the brittle remnants of wood that littered the area.

Adara! Hagan shouted as he ran. Wodos! Baenstrom! Where are you?

The Dwarf's head popped out from behind a stump, his eyes narrowed to study them as they approached.

Is it really you, Lord Hagan? I don't know what to believe in this place, he said, bringing his axe into a defensive position.

Yes, Baenstrom, it's me. You must find Adara. I think she is in danger.

Baenstrom simply nodded and lumbered into the trees, bellowing the Illumystic's name. A rustle in the underbrush turned his head and sent him in a new direction. Topping a rise, he could make out Wodos' back as he hunched over Adara's body, her legs kicking wildly.

Wodos! What in the Deep are you doing? Get off of her! Baenstrom shouted. Wodos made no indication that he had heard the Dwarf.

I won't say it again! screamed Baenstrom as he joined them, bringing the handle of his battle axe down on Wodos' shoulder near his neck and dropping the man to the slippery ground. Adara gasped suddenly, the air wheezing as she took a deep and frantic breath. Her neck was bruised, purple fingerprints stretching across her pale throat.

The Dwarf dropped to one knee next to her and helped her into a sitting position. In disgust, he kicked Wodos to the side and cursed.

Just take your time, lass. Catch your breath. He won't hurt you again, I promise.

Hagan and Shindire ran up, confusion on their faces.

Baenstrom, wha-? Hagan started.

This bastard was trying to kill her. His hands were around her throat when I got here, answered the Dwarf.

It's the Whispermist. It must be, Shindire added. We've got to get out of this place.

Adara, can you stand? asked Hagan, offering his hand.

She nodded and slowly rose to her feet with his assistance. She cast a fearful glance at the unmoving body of Wodos and moved away.

Baenstrom, bring Wodos. We're leaving, Hagan said.

Aye, answered the Dwarf, spitting on the ground next to Wodos' head.

Hagan and Shindire led Adara back into the clearing where Windenn stared at the northwest horizon with a curious expression. Her earthen constructs had circled her, their blank faces turned toward her awaiting her next command. Hagan exhaled in disgust as he drew closer and Windenn turned her attention to him.

My toys bother you that much? she asked in amusement and began to walk away.

Hagan held his breath for a moment, helping Adara as she sat upon the stump of a broken and blackened tree.

Yes, Windenn, he answered. They bother me that much. These are unnatural things that should not exist.

Very well, Hagan, she said without turning. With a gentle wave of her hand, her creations began to crumble and decompose, bits and pieces falling away, seeming to melt into the ground beneath them. Hands and arms twisted in on themselves, fingers snapping and shoulders dislodging, dropping from their convulsing torsos. Their heads turned strangely upon their necks, mouths stretched crookedly in silent grief. Then, all semblance to living beings disappeared, the spell and their bodies now broken. What was left quickly dissolved, no evidence of their existence remaining.

For the first time, Hagan felt afraid of Windenn and the powers that she possessed. What else was she capable of? Davaris believed her to be the most gifted mage that had ever lived. Hagan stared at the ground into which her playthings had vanished, then at Windenn's back. He made up his mind to tread lightly. Something within her mind was off-kilter, her personality dominated by vengeance and blind hate.

Would the old Windenn ever return?

Where are you going? he asked her.

"S'Darin's - my staff is incomplete. The remaining piece is there, she answered, pointing into the distance toward the west. I am going to retrieve it."

Wait, Hagan said.

For what?

Baenstrom rejoined them, dragging the slumping form of Wodos behind him. As he returned, the Gaelgristen rose and stood leaning on his crooked staff, a look of grave concern about him.

For us, of course, Baenstrom replied. You're going to help us out of this place, aren't you?

Windenn's face grew serious as she contemplated the Dwarf's request.

Don't ye care about the welfare of yer friends? Baenstrom asked, motioning to Hagan and Shindire.

The Elf is no friend of mine, you can be sure. The other one... She set her eyes on Hagan for some time without speaking.

Very well, she eventually said. Gather your things. Follow me. The things in here will keep their distance. Do not tarry. I will not wait for you. My path is clear and let none stand against me. For those in my way, I am the dark wind of death.

Hmmm....we must stop Malhain. Part of the staff is his. The ghost of S'Darin is his, Gorin said as he stood next to the great table now occupied by commanders of the Elven army. We must make haste. We have little hope of stopping him once he is beyond the Edge.

That is true, said General Neven, his hand gripping his forehead as he studied the map before them.

He has the power of Councilcrane at his fingertips, another argued. How do we stand against that?

"Do you believe we should do nothing, Laynos? We should sit on our hands as Malhain delivers these weapons, sets them at the feet of Mournenhile?" asked Vasparian in frustration.

There is no choice, Vasparian, Laynos replied, slamming his fist on the table.

By the Mother, there is always a choice. I cannot allow this to happen, Vasparian said as he shoved his chair backwards and stood. "If you're with me, I am leaving now."

Wha-? You have no way of stopping him, General, Lord Levenaen interrupted. What is your plan? Once you are discovered, the mages will blast you into dust and any who accompany you. You are worth much more to us alive.

The west will fall, my friends, said Vasp, motioning to the map before them. If Malhain completes his mission, returns to his master with S'Darin and the staff, the clock will begin ticking. In a few short months, the face of Kirkaldin will scarcely resemble that which we now know.

What you say may be true, Vasparian, Levenaen replied. It still does not explain how you intend to wrest S'Darin and the staff from Malhain's hands. Were you to confront him, you would surely die.

Levenaen paused for a moment, chewing his lower lip in thought.

Elfwhere has already been destroyed, he said. Mournenhile will leave us be. We...we are no longer a threat.

A sickly feeling came into Vasp's stomach upon hearing those words. Had it come to this? Were his people content in hiding, in being obedient slaves?

Mournenhile wants it all, my brothers, Vasp said. He pointed into the west, his eyes intense. Do you think he will leave the Elves in Greymander be, the cities of Man to the south? When the night falls, it casts everything in darkness. Any light that resists will shine like a beacon and will be quickly snuffed out. I do not want to wait here, cowering in our forest of ash until the rest of the world has fallen to him.

Against impossible odds, the Elves, Trolls and Men have stood their ground in the past. Had they ignored the signs, hid themselves within their lands, none of us would be here today.

Gorin placed a hand upon Vasp's shoulder.

Hmmm... you waste your breath, my friend. You speak the truth. You know that I will accompany you.

Of that, I have no doubt, Gorin. If no others step forward, I suppose we go alone.

You will not be alone, General Grael.

All heads turned toward the open door as three of the Addrefae stepped into view, white serpents encircling their pale forearms. Their yellow eyes scanned the room causing most to avoid their gaze.

My sisters and I will join you if there are no objections, announced Bienne, her slim figure framed within the chamber's arched entryway. We will find a way to stop Malhain.

Vasparian's eyes were wide in shock as he moved to greet her.

The Abbess will not be pleased-

It is with her blessing and by her command that we have come. She has seen beyond the veil of the present. Something terrible has pushed her to this decision. The fact that she has sent us, frightens us all.

Hmmm...it is good to have you with us, sisters, Gorin said with a nod. You will find no objections here.

Those Elves gathered around the map avoided Vasparian's eyes as he turned his head toward them, searching for support. General Neven fidgeted uncomfortably, fingers rubbing his chin. He looked at the faces of those around him, all eyes cast downward.

We have seen the destruction of our homeland, Vasparian, Neven said, staring at his hands. Our army is all but decimated. We live, but we did not win this battle. If he had so chosen, Malhain could have killed every last one of us. Now, he's gone. Let our people rest, General. If you chase him, you will only bring death to those who accompany you.

I must try, Neven. If I can find a way, I will stop him.

Thank you for trying, Vasparian, Neven said with a slight bow, still not meeting his eyes.

I do this not for you, Neven. I do this for the children, not only of Elfwhere but all of Kirkaldin. For if we fail, there is but a bleak future left for them.

Vasparian waited no longer. Gorin followed him as he left the room and made his way outside. He was greeted by nearly a score of Elven soldiers, some of Elfwhere and some of Greymander.

General Grael, our swords are yours, announced Ishaelen, stepping forward with a deep bow. Forgive us, we could hear the conversation from out here.

Are you certain? All of you? asked Vasp as he glanced from face to face, battleworn and dirty. Chances are that we will not return...

We know what the future brings, one of the Greymander soldiers replied. Our forests will be little more than graveyards. We must stop them now.

Vasparian was silent as he met their eyes. He thought of what he asked of them with a pang of guilt. A vision of his family filled his mind, strengthening his resolve.

Very well. My friends, we leave now.

Kastian and Gellik rode into the courtyard of the eastern barracks, greeted by the prince's soldiers sitting proudly in their saddles, formal uniforms reflecting the bright torchlight. Kastian's throat tightened as he prepared to lie to their faces and send them into danger.

The many dragonbucks gathered there stomped the dirt in anticipation, their heads tossing about nervously.

As they approached, the men bowed, hands upon their chests. The bright orange banners of his father fluttered above them with the chill night wind.

He began to speak, his voice catching in his throat. He paused, trying to push the panic away.

Shall I call it off? Forget about my Maerin? Is it too great a risk?

He saw her face again in his mind. She would die without him. He steadied himself and sat up proudly, clearing his throat.

This night, the Fadentide has come, a most important event, he said, his voice echoing from the stone walls of the nearby buildings. My father's steed is passing beyond the veil. All that are gathered here...

He paused and gathered his courage as the men looked on curiously.

All that are gathered here have been given other orders.

Kastian clumsily retrieved the parchment and handed it to his first in command, Crowen. The middle-aged man took the folded document from him and looked about in confusion, the lines in his forehead deepening.

My Lord...? he asked as he stared at the king's wax seal.

Our orders, Kastian said with a nod. Open it.

Hesitantly, Crowen snapped the seal in two and carefully unfolded the parchment. He read it quickly and looked up at the prince with an intensity in his eyes.

We've... been ordered to Harquinn, he said.

Loud murmurs went through the soldiers as they looked at one another, shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads.

Apparently, we are to leave immediately to take the city... before Malhain returns, Crowen explained, silently reading the words once more to himself.

Gellik turned to Kastian, his mouth hanging open in shock. He dared not question the prince. It was not his place.

You've heard the orders, Crowen said. We march for Harquinn. You have three minutes to gather your things. Go.

The soldiers vaulted from their saddles and ran for the surrounding buildings. Kastian could clearly hear their comments as they discussed this new and surprising development. He distinctly heard the word 'suicide' from several of them and he frowned.

Seems rather sudden, doesn't it? Gellik asked, looking into the heart of the city where the parade was now underway. "It is odd for the King to issue such an order on a night such as this. Why send only your regiment?"

He doesn't want to leave Musterdown unprotected, Kastian responded. He knows that we are enough to take Harquinn.

Gellik nodded.

Hmmm, yes. That must be the reason, he said, casting the prince a sidelong glance. "I certainly hope he's right, my Lord. I, myself, do not wish to die because he misjudged the situation."

Right, right. My thoughts exactly, answered Kastian, nervously adjusting the clasp that held his cloak upon his shoulders.

The soldiers were now returning, heavy packs on their backs. There was a palpable anxiety in the air as many of them were very young and unseasoned. The highly trained soldiers were found within the ranks of Kastian's elder brother's armies. The prince sat up tall, his shoulders back and chest out.

By King Austius' command... we ride for Harquinn, he announced, digging his heels into the flanks of his steed. He and Gellik led the way out of the courtyard and onto the cobbled street that led out of the city, eventually into the mountains. The streets were empty, the hooves of the dragonbucks resounding loudly down the alleyways. Soon, the lights of Musterdown were fading in the distance, replaced by the soft blue glow of the moon above.

She was in my mind, Wodos called out abruptly, causing the others to pull up short.

Shut yer hole, Wodos, Baenstrom said, shoving him forward with the palm of his hand. No one wants to hear yer explanations. D'ye want me to hit you again, lad?

It's true. I swear it. She wanted me to kill you. All of you. She was screaming my name....over and over.

Adara turned to argue, hand grasping her throat as she attempted to speak. No sound could be heard. In frustration, she tugged on Hagan's arm, shaking her head in denial. Tears welled in her eyes as she shot Wodos and evil glance.

You're going to take her word? Wodos asked. She's an Illumystic. That's what she does, you fools.

Wodos, I am hoping that you come to your senses once we've left the Whispermist. Until then, keep quiet. Hagan said, moving forward once more. They had traveled westward for some time, following Windenn as she walked effortlessly through the tangled forest. The slick sap that had blanketed the ground had now all but vanished, lifting free of their skin and clothing as well.

Windenn's mind had changed. Of this, Hagan had no doubt and he wondered what could be done, if anything, to bring her back. He found himself fearing the uncertainty of it all. Was she one of them as she had been before? Could she be trusted? Did she care what befell them or was her singular purpose the only thing that concerned her? As if she could hear his thoughts, she glanced back at him over her shoulder.

Perhaps she now possessed powers like Adara. Is one ever secure around a mind-reader?

We've nearly come to the forest's edge, Windenn said as she stepped over a fallen tree, overgrown with moss. We are still well within Mournenhile's land. Those who dwell here are no friend to those like us, westerners. You may travel with me if you like, but remember this...you will not change my mind. My destiny has been laid out before me. The blood of S'Darin and of the Wisp flows in my veins. I have little choice now.

I was made to reunite the staff, to take this world and make it my own. You cannot imagine that which I am now capable of.

We should discuss this, my Lady, the Gaelgristen suddenly said. She stopped and turned to face him, her expression stern.

What? she asked.

This course that you have set for yourself, the power you have acquired. We must think this through...

"We? asked Windenn in amusement. Now the power is ours, is it? I do not ask permission from any of you. Whether you agree or disagree, I will continue with my plan and none will stop me."

The Gaelgristen raised his hand as if to argue, but Windenn interrupted him, her voice harsh.

I will hear no more of such talk, she said, turning her back on the group.

We are all on the same side, my Lady, the Red Lion said, stepping forward. Can we not communicate in a civilized, non-threatening manner? Surely, we can accomplish much more working together?

I have not threatened anyone, Lion. Not yet. It is not my way. Threats are simply useless words, answered the Woodwarden without turning. Keep this in mind, won't you? I don't need any of you to reach my goal. How could you possibly communicate on my level? How could you understand the transformation that I have undergone? I have spoken to the Wind, Lion, walked with him in the gardens above and returned.

Her eyes seemed to glow from within as her voice grew louder and the others backed away as she turned to face them again. Her hair danced around her head, an unnatural gust of air touching only her.

By my axe and beard, she's no longer on the ground, Baenstrom shouted and he spoke the truth. Windenn now floated, her bootheels just above the soft forest floor.

I meant no offense, Windenn, The Red Lion explained. Please... we will follow you without question. You are correct, we could never understand one of your kind. Your thoughts are far above ours, to be sure.

A slight smile crossed her lips as she dropped to the ground. The others held their breath, waiting for her response.

You know your place, Lion. Pray that the others follow suit, she said and walked away to the west.

The Lion slowly exhaled in relief, turning to the others with a look of fear. They understood that he may have just saved them all.

They kept their distance from her and spoke in hushed tones regarding her state of mind. They soon left the foreboding atmosphere of the forest, the fields of greyish grass much easier to travel. It was no easy task keeping up with Windenn's pace, her boots scarcely touching the ground as she passed.

She is burning herself away inside, whispered the Gaelgristen, shaking his head in disgust. The seduction of the magic is too much for her. If she continues in this manner, she will not last long.

She cares about nothing and no one now, Shindire offered. Only destruction and the acquisition of more power.

Right now, Baenstrom added with a deep grumble. Being in her company is probably the safest place in all of Kirkaldin... and the most dangerous.

She is moving too fast, said the Gaelgristen. There is a reason that mages study for so long in the academies. One cannot push the mind too far too quickly.

She is incredibly strong, said Adara suddenly, startling Hagan who walked next to her. Her voice was very hoarse and cracked as she spoke. But there are things that she has yet to master. She was in a hurry to learn all she could about destruction and disregarded other important aspects of sorcery.

Can you-? Hagan began.

Read her mind? Yes. Somehow she has left the doors inside wide open, Adara replied. Wodos glanced at her hatefully as she spoke. He was still certain that she had invaded his consciousness and attempted to control his actions.

It is true what the others have said, Adara added. I have never met a mage with her strength. If she suspects that I am the one inside of her head, I fear she need only blink and I will die.

What do you see in there? Baenstrom asked. What's the crazy lass thinking?

Adara frowned, staring at Windenn's form.

It is as she says, nothing will stop her. I feel no compassion, no sympathy. It is as if her mind is a cyclone bent on rendering this world into ruin. Her heart has been locked away behind the stones and mortar that she constructed to protect herself. She must have gone through something truly horrible.

Hagan nodded and placed a hand on Adara's shoulder.

Be careful in there, Adara, he said. It seems the only weapon that can put an end to Mournenhile is in the hands of a madwoman.

They felt not the bitter sting of the ice that covered everything around them and clung in transparent clusters to their hair and skin. No vapor left their mouths for they did not breathe. Where the trio of frozen waterfalls converged, they stood, high above the immense pit that descended seemingly to the center of the world, disappearing into blackness. Their father had called and they had come, from a place outside the realm of the physical, through the womb of an innocent.

They knew their purpose and submitted to it willingly, walking without pause into his eastern lands. Standing now on the frigid precipice of his stronghold, they looked to one another with broad smiles. In short time, they would be in his presence, illuminated from within by his growing power. They would herald his return, infused with his sorcery, claiming all of the western lands for him.

Soon we will transform, sister, said the young man. Father waits below. Let us fulfill our destiny.

She squeezed his hand firmly and laughed out loud, the sound echoing harshly from their icy surroundings.

Then, we will make them burn, she said and led the way down the glassy steps into the pit of Kripplemourn.

Traveling on foot through Elfwhere was slow, the soldiers of Greymander unable to perform the Woodwalk. Ishaelen had yet to reveal what he had learned within the Bonetower and there was no time to train each of them in the forgotten art. As they moved through the forest eastward, they passed through patches of blackened ash, the charred skeletal remains of dwellings and piles of burnt bones.

Vasp kept his eyes always ahead of them and did his best to ignore the absolute horror that they passed along the way. A horrible stench began to fill the air as they approached the river's edge and they moved forward cautiously. Those at the forefront gasped as they beheld the gruesome sight that awaited them.

Upon hastily erected poles, the burnt remains of hundreds of Elves had been hung upside down and along the opposite bank of the river, the same. Vasparian looked away, struck by sadness and anger, biting his lip.

All was eerily silent for a moment, the soldiers eyes moving from corpse to corpse in disbelief.

General, one of the soldiers called out."

What is it? Vasp asked, walking in the Elf's direction.

General... the soldier whispered, tears in his eyes. They are all civilian women.

Why? asked another in shock.

Malhain is making a statement. He does not abide by the common rules of war, Vasp explained. He kills everything. He does not care if they are women, children or elders. He wants no trace of us to remain and if his master has his way, that is exactly what will come to pass.

Hmmm...I- I must bury them, Gorin mumbled, walking toward the closest victims.

Gorin, there are hundreds, Vasparian said.

They deserve the honor- Gorin started, turning to face Vasparian.

I agree, my friend. There is no time. We must go.

I...I can do it quickly, Vasparian, the Stone Troll said, dropping to his knees. His massive hands began to gouge holes in the earth as he dug in a frantic manner.

Gorin, please. Vasp said, putting a hand on the Troll's shoulder.

I can do this. Hmmm...if I- If...

Gorin stopped, his fingers covered in dirt, staring at the hole he had created. He did not move, did not speak for several breaths.

Gorin? Vasp asked and the Troll's mouth opened wide as he let out an ear-splitting roar of anguish. The others backed away as the ground shook beneath them from the sheer volume of his voice.

"By the Deep! These were not soldiers! Gorin shouted and began slamming his huge fists into the earth. I have never seen such cruelty, even from those of the east. This is wrong! Simply wrong! I will never again show mercy. Never!"

He stood and glared into the forest toward Harquinn, his breath coming fast. A deep rumbling growl came from his chest as he clenched his fists, the fingers scraping loudly across his palms.

I am coming, Malhain, Gorin shouted. If it takes the rest of my life, I will watch you die. You and all of the little insects that grovel at your feet.

He exhaled sharply and turned to face Vasparian, who took three steps back. The Elf had never seen the tears of a Stone Troll, a sparkling crystal trail running down each cheek, like streams of diamond. Even the Addrefae gasped at the sight, covering their mouths in surprise.

Let us be on our way, Vasparian. You are correct, there is not time to show these women the honor that they deserve. Let us instead avenge them, exact a fate upon their murderers that makes this sight pale in comparison, Gorin said, his chest heaving.

Agreed, my friend, Vasp answered. He then turned to Ishaelen, who simply nodded in response. They moved quickly from the horrific scene and followed the river's course to the south, the gentle sound of the water unable to push away the dark thoughts that now occupied their minds. Gorin walked several paces ahead of them, never turning to look back and never speaking.

The sun had begun its descent when finally Ishaelen's shout broke the silence.

General Grael, he said, pointing across the Illdredge. There are boats docked just there. Malhain did not discover them.

The group came to a halt, each following Ishaelen's finger to the opposite bank. Within a small cove, four boats could be seen resting but a few paces from the water.

We can easily cut them off, Ishaelen said, clapping Vasparian on the back, who nodded with a grin.

Using the river, we will catch them by nightfall, he said. "Gorin and I will use the Woodwalk and bring the boats across.

Be careful, General, Bienne said quietly, her hand placed gently on Vasp's arm. It would not be unlike Malhain to use such a situation as a trap.

Gorin growled next to them and ground his teeth.

I pray to the very stone of the earth that he is waiting there himself. His body will no longer be...hmmm...recognizable when I have finished with him.

Vasp gave Bienne a slight smile.

I think we will be fine, he said. We will return shortly.

Within minutes they had found a suitable tree and were standing among the boats, carefully inspecting the area around them. The foliage was still green and vibrant along the eastern bank of the Illdredge, a stark contrast to the remains of the forest that they had so far journeyed through.

Hmmm....I see no sign that Malhain's army was here, Gorin said as he peered into the thickest part of the woods. No tracks whatsoever.

Vasp nodded and placed his hands under one of the boats to flip it upright.

Let's get them into the water.

As the boat rolled onto its bottom, a low growl sounded and Vasp jumped back reaching for his blade. He relaxed immediately, seeing no threat. Instead a mother fox bared its teeth, drawing her body back to wrap around the three small kits that accompanied her. Her tail was singed and blackened, as was the tip of one ear.

It's all right, girl, Vasp said. We mean you no harm.

These animals are as we will become, Gorin remarked as he looked to the sky. The peoples of Kirkaldin are looking for places to hide, ways to escape the storm that is on the horizon.

She has not surrendered, said Vasp, motioning to the defiant fox. She would willingly give her life for her kits. In the end, I hope that we will all stand as strong as she.

We have seen it before, Vasparian. Some face the storm and some... bow before it. Eventually a storm comes that cannot be withstood.

The mother fox moved quickly away into the underbrush, the young ones just behind her.

Do you think this is the last storm, Gorin? asked Vasp as they shoved the boats out into the water. Is this the end for us?

The Troll cleared his throat with a gravelly cough as he tied the boats together with a length of rope and grabbed an oar. He finally met Vasp's eyes.

I have fought many battles, my friend, more than I care to remember. I have crushed Mournenhile's dogs by the thousands. We thought him destroyed.

"It will never stop, Vasparian. Is it possible to kill him or will he keep returning? What is he? Is this all for nothing? All of these years of fighting, of defending that which is rightfully ours, have ended here. He will take it all... regardless."

Gorin paused in thought, his eyes hidden in the darkness below his brows.

All of the blood, all of the loss and we still suffer the final defeat.

If Davaris can get his hands on the staff- Vasp began.

Do you not find it odd that we have not heard from the others? Gorin interrupted. Perhaps they never left Harrow Isle?

Gorin, you sound as if you are ready to surrender.

Never! the Troll shouted. I will fight until my body is dust. Surrender is not a word spoken by my people. My hope for the side of good, however, is failing, my friend.

They shouldered the boats into the calm water of the cove, each climbing into their own craft and paddling into the current. In short time, they had joined the others on the opposite bank. The soldiers were hesitant to share a boat with the Addrefae, their superstitions too great and eventually the women and their serpents joined Vasp, Ishaelen and Gorin in the lead vessel.

The Illdredge River pulled them along swiftly, the gentle motion of the water allowing their minds to relax for a moment. As the afternoon came, all signs of battle had disappeared and they moved through the untouched southern area of Elfwhere. Occasionally, a scattering of leaves would blow across the water, reminding the Elves of the unnatural effect of Mournenhile's sorcery. It was apparent to all that autumn had lost its hold and the trees were returning to their original glorious state. The dark one had gotten what he had coveted, the shade of S'Darin.

Forgive me, General, Ishaelen said. When we overtake them... what is our plan?

Vasparian turned and regarded him momentarily, his eyes heavy-lidded and troubled.

I do not know, he finally said and once again surveyed the water before them.

From what history tells us, S'Darin could destroy an entire city with the blink of an eye. I am no coward, but I cannot imagine running blindly into that kind of enemy, said Ishaelen, glancing at the others for support.

Your concern is understandable, Commander, Bienne answered. "Our belief, our hope is that Malhain cannot completely control S'Darin. He holds a piece of the staff, but we do not believe that he can wield it. If we are correct, our