Salonika

By Stephen Gibbs

Silaem is like a younger brother to Midhel despite the span of time separating
them. Midhel has been walking the lands of Salonika for hundreds of years
while Silaem has yet to see a century. Still, the two wizards have grown close
so close that Midhel reveals to Silaem his closely guarded secret. Then all hell
breaks loose. Readers can witness exciting events unfold in Salonika, a riveting
fantasy novel by Stephen Gibbs.
Silaem is furious when Midhel reveals the existence of a gateway to another
worlda world where there is little understanding of magic but where their
weapons of war could reduce countries to rubble. Silaem is convinced that
wizards are given power in order to control others. Midhel, however, believes in
helping others fi nd their own destinies. He has no wish to abuse his power and
has vowed to prevent the knowledge of either world escaping its boundaries by
controlling and preventing the use of the gateway.
Consumed by his lust for power, Sialem confesses that he has been exploring
other dark paths of magic. Midhel is stunned by this revelation and knows that
Silaem would now be a bitter enemy he must oppose. Troubled by glimpses of
possible futuresall of which are darkMidhel fi nds a glimmer of hope in
a fl eeting vision of a warrior in black battling Silaem. But where will he fi nd
this warrior, and can he fi nd him in time before all of Salonika falls under
Silaems dark rule? Readers can fi nd out as they immerse in this intriguing
page-turner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Aug 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453506561

Book preview

Copyright © 2010 by Stephen Gibbs.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-800-618-969

www.xlibris.com.au

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500197

Contents

Prologue

Book 1

The Betrayal

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Book 2

Return of Evil

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Book 3

The Trogon

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Epilogue

Prologue

Midhel winced as Silaem shouted and thumped the table for emphasis. For a frozen moment, the two wizards faced each other. Midhel let out the breath that he hadn’t realised that he was holding as Silaem suddenly leapt to his feet and stalked around the room. He was a large intimidating figure with dark looks that made his handsome, but permanently serious, face look almost demonic in the flickering light from the fireplace. Although older and slimly built, Silaem had confidence enough in his own power to not physically fear Silaem, but Silaem’s unexpected anger had caught him by surprise. As Silaem continued to rant, Midhel waited as patiently as he could for the tirade to finish, but his own anxiety was growing.

Silaem was like a young brother to Midhel, but there was a great distance between their ages. Midhel had been walking the lands of Salonika for hundreds of years, while Silaem had yet to see a century. But despite the span of time that separated the two wizards, and their very different temperaments, they had grown close. So close that Midhel had just revealed his closely guarded secret. Silaem’s unexpected reaction now had him regretting deeply that he had taken the younger wizard into his confidence. Obviously, he did not know the other as well as he thought, but he could not take back his words.

As Silaem paused for breath, Midhel tried to reason with him. ‘It is not what it seems.’

Silaem, his face flushed, spun back to lean over the table as he said forcefully, ‘You have the means to travel to a world in which there is so little understanding of magic that we could walk through it unopposed and rule it like kings, and yet you will not do so. How have I misinterpreted this?’

Silaem spun away and marched around the room in the castle that was Midhel’s private study before once again confronting the older wizard. ‘How could you have kept this secret from me? Do you not see that this is why we were made? Our powers are weapons, given to us to control others. We were made to use this power and yet you squat in this dank castle, refusing to use it. What are you afraid of?’

Midhel’s patience was limited at the best of times and now it was being stretched. His voice was strained as he replied in an even tone, ‘As I have already said, I have told you about the gateway in this castle for the only reason that if I was to die, then you could guard the gate after me. I have walked through the world on the other side, and yes, they have little understanding of magic, and we could possibly rule them. But I do not know this for certain. While they are like babies in their understanding of magic, they have developed weapons of war that can reduce countries to rubble. Moreover, even though they seem to have little knowledge, their world once knew magic as we do and that lore may still exist. Even if I were to desire power and dominance, which I don’t, there would be no easy path to power.’

Silaem returned Midhel’s stare for a moment and then sat down again to drain his wine, his anger radiating from him. Midhel used the moment to regain his composure. He reminded himself again that Silaem was young and had not the experience to truly know what was important. There was so much more to the story about the gateway, but Silaem had not given him a chance to explain it nor would he really understand. Midhel had no desire to rule nor to see any being from Salonika being given free access to the world beyond the gateway. But more than this, he had seen glimpses of a terrifying future in which the weapons of the other world had been brought to Salonika. Just as the other world had little understanding of magic, equally Salonika had no idea about the power of weapons powered by gunpowder. He had vowed that he would prevent the knowledge of either world escaping its boundaries by controlling and preventing the use of the gateway. But how could he explain all of this to the headstrong young wizard who was so unwilling to listen?

Midhel was confident in his own powers and did not think that the young wizard would challenge him. But Silaem had always been impulsive, and Midhel had never seen him so angry. Reluctant to believe he was in any danger, Midhel nevertheless quietly readied himself for any attack Silaem might try. But after a moment, he felt he was being foolish and started to grow angry with himself. Many times they had disagreed. Sometimes they had argued loudly, but always they had parted as friends, willing to accept the other’s point of view. To some extent it was in their nature to always be convinced that their own view was the only one that should be allowed. Silaem was right in saying that they were made to wield power, and being confident in their opinions was a part of that strength. The one point they had never agreed on was the use of their power. Midhel believed in helping others to find their own destinies, while Silaem believed they should rule.

Believing that Silaem’s silence meant he had calmed himself, Midhel relaxed and reached for his own cup. But the wine never passed his lips, for he froze in the act of lifting the cup at Silaem’s next softly spoken words. ‘I have been exploring the paths of magic. I have found a way to gain power beyond what even the maker has. The weapons of this other world would not prevail against me.’

A shiver of despair swept through Midhel. He had been told that Silaem had been exploring the dark paths of magic, but he had dismissed this news as only rumour, spread by the ignorant. Besides, Midhel had himself touched briefly on the dark arts in times of desperate need, for it was true that the dark side offered great power. But the cost had equalled the power and for Midhel it was a price he would not pay. The coinage of the dark powers was the blood and suffering of innocents. The powers given to Midhel and Silaem from the maker came from the natural forces of the land and their own strength. For Midhel, it was power enough and had never found a need to seek more. As he studied Silaem, he could now see a glint of . . . something in his eyes that had not been there before. Another chill ran through Midhel as he realised that he felt threatened a few moments ago because Silaem now radiated power that he had not had before. Midhel’s own power had risen involuntarily in response.

Silaem continued in a soft voice as if afraid of being overheard. ‘Join with me and we will sweep through both of these worlds and perhaps even beyond as a force that no one, not even the maker, could oppose.’

Midhel sat quietly, but inside he was churning. Here was Silaem’s ambition laid bare. The maker was a god-like figure whose powers dwarfed those of the wizards he had made. For Silaem to think that this power was within his reach, he must be further down the dark path than even the most vicious of stories had indicated. ‘How could I have been so blind?’ Midhel thought to himself. With the wisdom of hindsight, he knew that he had unconsciously ignored the signs. Or perhaps, he admitted to himself, he had just not wanted to believe that the young wizard he was so close to and had nurtured and taught, could have been so consumed by his lust for power, that he was willing to torture and sacrifice others.

But even now, with Silaem all but admitting his dark deeds, Midhel could not bring himself to believe that Silaem had travelled so far down the dark path that he was beyond reason. With a sigh, Midhel said, ‘For you to gain that power, innocents would have to suffer. If you use that power, many more will suffer and die for your ambitions. You might rule, but you would have the deaths of hundreds, even thousands, of the inhabitants of both worlds staining your soul black. We took vows that we would not harm the innocent. How can you turn your back so easily on your word and honour?’

For a moment, Midhel thought that his words had reached Silaem as he sat quietly with hands steepled in front of him. But then he cocked his head slightly as if listening to another voice, and once more his expression hardened as he responded, ‘Before you seek to lecture me, you should recall the wording of the vow. The words of the vow were that innocent blood should not be shed except for the greater good. I believe that the greater good is us gaining our rightful place as rulers. I admit that some innocents may suffer, but many more would benefit from our rule. We could unite the peoples of these worlds and take them further.’

With a sly satisfied look, Silaem said, ‘The gateways are not unknown to me.’

Silaem smiled as Midhel started at his words. Midhel had thought that the secret of the gateway was known only by a trusted few. That Silaem knew about it was a surprise but not totally unexpected. That he understood its nature enough to know it was not unique was astonishing as Midhel thought that he alone held that knowledge. Silaem nodded with satisfaction as he said, ‘Yes, gateways. You see I knew that there are gateways to other worlds. I have devoted many years to gathering information on them and have made many allies who also seek power, and we have shared our knowledge. What I did not know was how to actually locate them, and now I find that you have held the secret from me. By studying this gateway, I would then be able to find the others. I have every reason to be angry. You have caused me to waste years, but no matter. We are brothers and so I will forgive and give you one more chance to join me.’

Midhel thought of trying once again to reason with Silaem, to somehow impart some of the wisdom and experience he had gained over his long life. Midhel had seen evil try to use the gateway before, and he shuddered at the memory of it. But looking into Silaem’s eyes, he knew that he would not be dissuaded. Cursing himself silently for sharing his secret with Silaem, he slowly shook his head as he said, ‘I have been offered such power before, and I rejected it. More, I fought against it. I will not allow innocents to suffer. You say that we were born with power and that is true, but I believe that with the power comes responsibility for that is what the maker has taught us.’

Silaem drained his cup and stood. ‘Then there is nothing more to be said except that you would be wise not to try to interfere or oppose me.’

For a moment, Midhel thought Silaem was about to attack him, and this time he gathered his power in earnest, not caring that Silaem would sense what he was doing. Silaem stared at Midhel for a moment and then laughed. ‘I will not challenge you now. For we are at the heart of your power, and while I am getting stronger every day, I cannot challenge you, yet. More, for the sake of our friendship I will offer one more chance. I go now to gather my allies, and we will return here together.’

Heedless of Midhel’s warning look, Silaem leaned in close to the old wizard and said in a harsh whisper. ‘If I find the doors of the castle open, I will once again embrace you as a brother. But know this well, if I find the doors barred, then I will take this castle by force, for my allies are many, and you will have achieved nothing other than to end your own life.’

Before Midhel could react or reply, Silaem clapped his hands and disappeared. For several long moments, Midhel sat silently stunned by the unexpected turn of events and contemplating what the future held for himself and the headstrong young wizard. Deep in his heart, he felt and ached for the friendship he now knew was lost. More, he also knew that Silaem would now be a bitter enemy that he must oppose. Midhel sighed heavily and relaxed back in his chair.

A desolate feeling of isolation and loneliness washed over him. Upon reflection, he now understood that it had been his loneliness that had made him blind to Silaem’s faults. For centuries he had walked with the peoples of both worlds and had been very close to some, but until Silaem had been made, he didn’t realise how lonely he was for the company of someone with whom he could truly share. While the maker had made many wizards, only a handful in a thousand years had been allowed beyond his realm in the mountains. Midhel knew of only one other who currently walked the world and their animosity ran deep in them both.

Midhel’s isolation was made even deeper as he had been banished from the maker’s mountain for opposing the maker. That Midhel still held that his actions had been justified, despite the maker’s condemnation, somehow made the banishment harder to bear. For he knew he could never return unless he accepted the maker’s judgement and his pride would not allow that.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Midhel was feeling old. It was as if the centuries had finally started to wear him down. His body was still that of a man in his early forties, but he felt as if his bones had aged within. Melancholy threatened to swamp. He sent away his servant and continued to drink. Dark thoughts swirled through his head, and despite his resolve to once again talk to Silaem, he knew in his heart it would achieve nothing. Eventually, Midhel drifted into a restless sleep. He had the power to see glimpses of possible futures and the ones he now saw were all dark. Just before he finally succumbed to a deeper sleep, he had a strong vision. It lasted no more than a fleeting second, but it showed a warrior in black, battling Silaem. Midhel sensed that he had a part to play in that conflict and that the outcome was by no means determined. But to at least have hope that he would not be alone in his battle against Silaem was enough to ease his troubled mind into true sleep.

Book 1

The Betrayal

Chapter 1

The morning mist was still rising as the wizard, Midhel, hobbled his horse in a small glade and made his way through the trees to the edge of the cliff. After a short walk, he dropped to the ground and crawled forward to the edge of a wide but shallow valley bordered by stunted pines.

Midhel’s stomach was tight with apprehension at what he would find, and as soon as he lifted his head over the edge, he observed his foes with dismay. His worst fears were confirmed. Silaem, who now called himself a darklord, had gathered an army such as he had never seen. Midhel estimated that there must have been several thousand warriors, most of whom were dwarves, camped in the valley. Scanning the host before him, he grunted in surprise as he identified several groups of trolls as well as other races which traditionally detested the dwarves, but who now appeared prepared to tolerate an alliance for common gain. Midhel ruefully acknowledged Silaem’s powers of persuasion if he had indeed established a common purpose within such an assemblage.

Movement on the valley rim caught Midhel’s eye, and he mouthed a silent obscenity as the bulky shapes of giants pulling huge wagons full of supplies and weapons appeared via rough-hewn paths through the tree line. He would never have believed that Silaem could lure them from their mountain homes if he had not observed them himself.

Several leagues away to the north, Midhel had left his own forces busily preparing defences for the castle, the capture of which was Silaem’s immediate goal. However, after observing his enemy’s preparations, the defenders now seemed pitifully few. He had managed to convince Evea, the queen of the elves, of the need to stop Silaem. The elves lived not far from the castle, and Evea was one of the few who knew something of the gateway. Once before, the elves had battled to save the world beyond, and now they stood once again with Midhel.

Many of the races of Salonika had used the gateway in the past, but few had interacted with its inhabitants more than the elves. Only after the gateway had been used with evil intent by vampires had Midhel, with the help of others, enclosed the gateway in the castle, limiting its use to only the few Midhel allowed. He would have shut it completely if he had the power and knowledge to do so, but it was beyond him. Although stories of elves and others who dwelt on Salonika had faded into myths and legends beyond the gateway, the elves themselves had long memories and many still bore the shame that some of their number had a part in the evil acts that had destroyed so many.

Ironically, one of the other races to regularly use the gateway had been the dwarves. It was now clear to Midhel that some of them still lusted after the mineral riches that the other held despite being part of the original decision to build the castle. Indeed, it had been the dwarves who had undertaken most of the construction.

Midhel continued searching the enemy camp, using his magic to enhance his vision. He was looking for signs of vampires, but was not surprised to find that none appeared to have accepted Silaem’s promises. They had never recovered from their defeat centuries ago when they had used the gateway to invade the other world intent on enslaving it for their own use. They remained scattered and isolated. Besides, Midhel doubted that even Silaem, as powerful as he had now become, would be able to control or even trust vampires. Even so, when he learned that Silaem had survived a meeting proposing alliance with the vampires, he was disbelieving, and not a little disturbed. That alone testified to how Silaem’s power must have grown.

Paradoxically, the absence of the vampires was also a concern for Midhel. His hopes of defeating Silaem largely rested on a group of warriors known as the Valderesh. The Valderesh were all shapes, sizes, and races, but the one thing they had in common was that they were all exceptional warriors, and they were dedicated to the extermination of vampires. Their prowess was legendary, and they were the reason that the vampires had never been able to return to power.

The Valderesh had heard that Silaem had been seen in the company of vampires and so had readily agreed to fight with Midhel’s forces. Midhel was grateful for the support, but was under no illusions. The Valderesh leader, a dwarf named Grandon, had made their position clear.

‘While we will fight evil wherever we find it, our first duty must be to the battle against the vampires who are the foulest servants of evil. We will fight to death to defeat vampires, but if they are not present then we stay only as long as we believe the fight can be won. I will not risk my men on a lost cause, for I must ensure we are able to continue the fight against vampires,’ Grandon had explained to Midhel.

It now appeared that Silaem had failed to recruit the vampires, so the loyalty of the Valderesh could be transitory at best. Midhel was not a coward, but even he could feel cold fingers of fear exploring his belly. He was now certain that this was likely to be a very bad day indeed.

Enlisting the Valderesh was an act of desperation for Midhel, prompted by the obstinate refusal of the dwarf leader, Broadaxe, to join him. A scowl formed on Midhel’s face as he recalled enjoying Broadaxe’s hospitality, only to learn that he would not take up arms against fellow dwarves, despite their evil intentions. Midhel’s spies had informed him of the growing swell of support for his cause from amongst Broadaxe’s warriors, many of who had suffered at Silaem’s hands as he systematically terrorized Salonika. More, many recalled the vows of their fathers, that evil would never again control the gateway. Nonetheless, Broadaxe had refused to take up arms against fellow dwarves. The fact that there was no love lost between Broadaxe’s dwarves and those who followed Silaem under the leader known as Thorn did not affect his decision.

Midhel might have accepted Broadaxe’s argument except that he now knew that there was more to Broadaxe’s decision that made it all the more unpalatable. While Broadaxe had not allied with Silaem, as had Thorn, Broadaxe was just as greedy and saw an opportunity for gain while keeping his army intact. So he had made a deal with Silaem. Broadaxe would not march against Silaem in exchange for a share of the spoils. The Broadaxe dwarves had grumbled and protested amongst themselves, but in the end they were too well disciplined to not accept his orders. That did not stop them grumbling aloud though, and Midhel’s scouts duly reported this development.

Midhel smiled grimly as he thought about Broadaxe’s naivety.

‘You had better pray that we win, Broadaxe, you treacherous bastard, or you will soon find out that you have sold your soul too cheaply,’ he muttered to himself. Silaem’s goal was to take Midhel’s castle, and he would do anything to achieve his aims and further his cause. ‘Unscrupulous’ was too kind a description for Silaem, and Midhel grinned without humour as he contemplated Broadaxe’s eventual disappointment and inevitably painful demise. Once Silaem’s goal was achieved, he would care nothing for any deal he had made. Silaem dreamed of the power the world beyond the gateway held for him. He believed that it was his for the taking and only Midhel stood in the way. But others of Salonika would stand against the evil Silaem now represented.

Centuries earlier, the vampires had used the gateway to invade and create a reign of terror on the world beyond. However, its inhabitants, with the aid of Midhel and some of the other inhabitants of Salonika, had eventually managed to rebel, and the vampires had been forced to return to Salonika. Many warriors from the other world followed them to ensure they did not return. They had willingly become trapped after the gate was sealed, and they established themselves as the first of the Valderesh warriors.

Midhel had walked amongst the humans in the new world at the time of the vampires, helping where possible. He knew that its inhabitants called it Earth. No one, not even Midhel, knew who had built the gateway or why. As far as he was aware, there were no legends or even children’s tales to hint at its origin. It was as if it was part of Salonika itself, as natural as the dense woods and the rich soil they grew in, which covered much of his world.

After the defeat of the vampires, Midhel had ordered a castle built over the gateway to make it easier to defend from those who would misuse it and also to seal it. Despite its obscure origins, Midhel soon discovered how to control the gateway. He could pass between worlds at will, and he would instantly know if any other tried to use it without his permission.

Midhel had intended that the gateway remained closed, but he had become curious. He now cursed himself for eventually succumbing to the temptation to use the gate. Several years ago, when Midhel had confided his secret to someone he called a brother, Midhel knew he would eventually have to face Silaem who was now his bitterest enemy. He did not know then how far Silaem had been on his slide towards the dark powers. But even now, after witnessing some of Silaem’s worst deeds and fighting against him for years, Midhel could scarcely believe some of the acts that Silaem had performed. Midhel now knew that Silaem would stop at nothing, including destroying his former friend, to gain control of the gateway. Silaem had broken boundaries from which there could be no redemption.

Until now, Midhel had defeated Silaem, and for a while, Midhel had dared hope that he had given up his ambitions, but the size of Silaem’s forces made it clear that this time he intended to use whatever force was necessary to take the castle. Midhel despaired as he thought of his own forces. Apart from the Valderesh warriors, the remaining fighters Midhel had managed to recruit seemed desperately inadequate for the task. Broadaxe’s refusal to join Midhel’s struggle had left him with a force of mostly elves. Fortunately, they had needed little convincing. The elves knew the world burnt where Silaem now walked. Unfortunately, although excellent fighters, and outstanding archers, their slight frames meant they were better suited to fighting in the forest using guerrilla tactics than with armour and war axes in open confrontation. The massive strength and cleverly made steel webbing of the dwarves gave them a frightening advantage in close quarter battles. Midhel knew that Silaem would use his forces accordingly.

Midhel had seen enough. There was little use staying and so much preparation to do. No matter how desperate the situation seemed, he vowed he would not give up control of the gate while he lived. Silently, he retreated from the ridge and moved with remarkable speed for a tall man through the undergrowth to the small clearing where he had left his horse.

As Midhel approached the clearing, he was jolted from his deep thoughts by the sound of arguing. For a moment, his stomach churned as he listened intently, fearful that a chance encounter with a patrol would isolate him from his army. Though he was strong with magic, a dozen armed dwarves attacking at once would be difficult.

He dropped to the ground and using the low undergrowth as cover, crawled towards the voices. As he drew closer, Midhel identified the owners of the voices and he cursed, as much with exasperation as with anger. He stood and strode into the clearing. The two combatants made such an odd pair that if it were not for the gravity of the situation; Midhel might have been mildly amused.

Before him were two antagonists. The larger figure was called Lesor, who, like all fauns, had the ears, horns, and tail of a goat. Unlike some fauns, he had the legs of a man, and it was apparent that those legs were not nearly nimble enough to catch the smaller figure of the elusive pixie who was taunting him like a schoolyard bully.

‘Lesor by name

Lesor the game

Catch me Lesor

Or you are the Loser,’

chanted the pixie. As she sang, she used a thin stick to goad him like a picador with a bull while dancing just out of his reach.

The unfortunate, and by this time sweaty and distressed, faun had no chance of catching the pixie woman, who seemed as nimble and insubstantial as the shadows thrown by the trees overhead.

Midhel sighed as he contemplated for the hundredth time what had possessed him to take on Lesor as an apprentice. And for the hundredth time, he realised that it was pity. The faun had been banished by his clan. Chased by the taunts and projectiles of his former family, Lesor had run blindly through the forest until finally he had stumbled into Midhel’s camp one night bleeding from where he had fallen over many times. Lesor was so distraught that Midhel had felt compelled to minister to his wounds. Before long, he realised that Lesor had nowhere to go, and accordingly he followed Midhel until life with him seemed normal. Or at least as normal as it could be. Unfortunately, it had not been long before Midhel had learned why Lesor had been run out of his village.

Lesor was the clumsiest being Midhel had ever encountered. No matter how hard he tried, Lesor could not even make the fire without injuring himself. Fauns were known for their graceful dancing and artistry with music. Lesor had skills in neither and eventually had almost destroyed his village through a series of accidents. The fauns were generally not an unkind race, but they were not tolerant of any members of the clan who could not contribute to the good of the clan. Elderly or incapacitated fauns would be left by to die alone in the forest. Infants that were born with any deformity were left to die. Luckily for Lesor, human legs were just common enough for him to have survived the infant purges.

Given this, the fauns had shown remarkable tolerance for the orphan. But while the antics of a young Lesor were tolerated and even seen as amusing, the adult-sized Lesor was far too destructive and so the fauns had eventually decided to banish him.

Despite his experiences, Midhel had found that Lesor was amiable enough. He was not stupid, but had a simple way of looking at life that made him an undemanding companion. On occasions, Lesor was even able to give Midhel an insight into an issue that Midhel would never have considered. For this reason, Midhel had tolerated the faun and had even come to look upon him as a sort of apprentice even though the faun’s capacity to perform magic seemed to be virtually non-existent.

Midhel’s gaze fell to the faun’s antagonist, and his eyes narrowed in anger. The pixie was another matter entirely. Unlike Lesor, Sheham seemed to have far too much intelligence, charm, and coordination for such a small body, and all of these skills were dedicated to mischief-making. Sheham seemed to have somehow adopted the wizard and his companion as her own source of amusement and tended to turn up at the most surprising times, like now, and proceeded to create havoc.

Mindful that there could be scouts from Silaem’s army nearby, Midhel rushed to the nearly hysterical faun and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder.

‘Silence!’ Midhel’s fierce whisper stilled the faun for a moment, but then Lesor started pointing at the pixie who was now lounging on a branch in a nearby tree.

‘She said I was useless! That I was a mistake of nature and should, therefore, just run headfirst into a tree and save everybody a lot of trouble! She . . .’ Lesor’s voice trailed off as he caught the look on the wizard’s face.

Midhel did not bother to look at the pixie, but he raised his voice just enough for her to hear his words.

‘Understand me when I say that there is no time or place for your foolish games now. Soon we will confront a force of evil and will be fighting for our very lives! Indeed, it will be sooner if your irresponsible actions have drawn attention to us from Silaem’s scouts.’ Lesor was a picture of misery at the wizard’s words. Midhel had stressed over and over to him the need for secrecy on this mission.

Midhel glanced at the pixie out of the corner of his eye and was slightly mollified to see her looking thoughtful for once.

The pixie said, ‘Wizard, it is as much your fault for bringing the fool along if this is such a perilous mission.’ Lesor glared at the pixie and opened his mouth to shout a retort, but Midhel’s hand clamped over his mouth.

Sheham continued. ‘Unlike some’, Sheham said looking pointedly at the faun, ‘I am not totally without wits. I reconnoitred before I came here, and there are no scouts on this side of the valley, at least not yet. That is what I came to tell you.’

Midhel relaxed slightly. Despite her faults, Midhel knew that Sheham would not lie, and the pixie seemed to be able to get the trees themselves to talk to her. If there were scouts nearby, Sheham would know.

Sheham stood and stretched her lithe body. ‘I was ordered to tell you that the pixies have decided to aid you in your fight.’ Sheham then stuck her tongue out at the faun who was still in Midhel’s grip, and with a backflip from the branch into the undergrowth, she disappeared.

Midhel had mixed emotions about Sheham’s message. Certainly he could use what help was offered, and pixies were exceptional healers. But the pixies would not be much use in a fight, and if they created mischief, then they may end up being more of a burden. However, Sheham’s demeanour indicated an appreciation of the seriousness of the battle, which was at least encouraging.

A muffled cry reminded Midhel that he still held the faun, who was starting to make choking sounds. Midhel released Lesor and strode to his horse. After regaining his breath, Lesor cursed all pixies silently as he set off after his master.

One of the few talents Lesor had was his ability to run. He thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of freedom it gave him, for when he was running, it was as if his clumsy body was finally able to concentrate on one task. His human legs, though clumsy, were longer than a goat’s, yet still had all of a goat’s endurance if not the agility. Therefore, despite Midhel pushing his mount into a canter, Lesor was easily able to catch up and run alongside the wizard.

‘I am sorry, master. I was provoked beyond endurance and forgot where I was. It will not happen again.’

Midhel looked down at the faun and hardened himself to say, ‘Lesor, that promise you have given me too many times before. Sheham was right about one thing. I should not have brought you. All you needed to do was watch my horse and remain silent, and you could not even achieve that. That was the last time that I will trust you to accompany me.’

Lesor turned to the wizard with his mouth open to argue, but again the look on the wizard’s face forestalled him, and instead he turned away and mumbled, ‘You are right, of course, master. I am useless to you. It would be better if I do run into a tree as the pixie suggested.’

They travelled in silence for a few minutes before Midhel relented. It was not in his nature to cause suffering, and he felt that the faun was starting to understand what he had done was unacceptable.

Midhel said, ‘Lesor, you must realise that this is no game. Silaem has forfeited his humanity and is inherently evil and must be opposed. Many will die before this is done and there will be suffering such as this world has not seen, but that will be as nothing if we lose.

‘It is the nature of the pixie to taunt. Perhaps it is because they are small, or perhaps they did it just for spite or their own amusement, but be warned that they will not give up. Now that Sheham knows that you will respond to her, she will haunt you. You must learn to ignore her if you will play your part in this encounter.’

Lesor nodded glumly, but he was barely listening. He was pleased that Midhel seemed to have forgiven him. For Lesor, Midhel was more than just a mentor. Midhel was a legendary figure, firmly entrenched in folklore, and Lesor for the first time in his life felt important that such a one as Midhel would take him as an apprentice. Lesor thanked Bofur, the god of the fauns, every day for his luck, and every time Midhel hinted that he would send Lesor away, Lesor felt like collapsing from grief.

Now that the latest crisis in their relationship seemed to have passed, Lesor asked the question that had been worrying him. ‘Master, are we going to lose?’

Midhel looked down at the earnest face beside him and swallowed his intended rebuke. If even Lesor could see that their chances were slim, then it would be obvious to all, and just denying it would achieve little. After a few moments, Midhel stopped his horse and slid from the saddle to face his apprentice.

‘This battle is not about winning or losing. It is simply one we need to fight. Silaem is now committed to his underworld masters, and I have glimpsed the future, or more correctly, I have seen that there is no future if Silaem is allowed to win. Not fighting is not an option.’

Lesor grew anxious, and it was now obvious to Midhel that the faun had been thinking deeply. ‘But, master, I question not how you know about Silaem. But why then do the dwarves fight for him? I have accompanied you to their strongholds many times, and while they have occasionally been discourteous, they are not evil,’ Lesor ended with a shrug as if he had run out of words.

Midhel almost smiled at the recollection of the disasters Lesor had achieved on their last visit to the dwarves, but he controlled his face and said, ‘You are right. They are not an evil race, but do not think that they are not capable of evil acts. Dwarves are a very disciplined race and follow orders without question. Silaem knows this and that is why he never approached the elves. They are too inclined to be independent.

‘With the dwarves, Silaem needed only to fill the heart of their leader, Thorn, with his black promises and lies, and the rest now follow.’

Lesor was now even more agitated, and he hopped around Midhel and the horse before once again facing the wizard. Lesor desperately wanted to believe that Midhel was right in everything he said, but he still doubted that the dwarves were capable of allowing the evil that Midhel said was coming.

Lesor almost cried as he said, ‘Master, I do not wish this to happen. Many will die and I do not understand why. Can you not prevent this? Can you not talk to the dwarves?’

Midhel smiled sadly and said, ‘Lesor, for all your faults, you are gentle and kind, and I know it is hard for you to think others are not the same.’

His smile faded as he turned to look back towards the mountains that hid the valley in which Silaem was gathering his forces. Grimly he said, ‘Regardless of race, there will always be gullible and greedy fools who believe that they have the right to take what they can. They are easy prey for the dark forces.’

Midhel turned back to the faun and smiled tiredly. ‘The time for talking is past, and I have done my fair share of it. Your faith in my abilities is touching, but I fear I am not as powerful as you might think.’ Impulsively, he hugged the faun, who froze with the unexpected contact. Before Lesor could react, Midhel had released him and climbed back onto his horse.

Midhel looked down and said, ‘This is not your fight, Lesor. Head for the hills, and seek a new life. You owe no debts here, and it would cheer me to think that you were alive and free.’

Before Lesor could reply, Midhel slapped the rump of his horse and once more cantered off. Lesor was too stunned by his mixed emotions to follow.

Chapter 2

Several days and many bloody skirmishes later, Midhel stood on a small treeless hill a league beyond the castle perimeter and surveyed the battle lines. Here they would make their final stand. He had carefully chosen the site for his defences. The castle itself would be the final retreat from which there would be no escape. The castle was set on a headland that extended some way into a pristine lake.

Although the approach to the castle was a gentle slope, the end of the headland ended in sheer cliffs that plunged down towards the depths of the impoundment. On a clear day, the cliffs could be seen extending under the water down hundreds of feet towards the rocky lake bottom. The castle was built right to the edge of the cliffs and the sprawling complex completely covered the headland. Fortunately for Midhel, this meant that the dwarves could only attack from the Northern approach and this limited the advantage of superior numbers that the attackers had.

The downside was that the approach to the castle was clear. This was a good defence against raiding parties as it allowed a clear line of sight for archers in the castle, but it also meant that there was now little cover for the defenders.

Midhel had organised for defences to be hastily built along the bank of a small creek that ran past the front of the castle and into the lake. It was the best he could think of. There was little point in defending from the castle as Silaem would simply lay siege, and because of the speed with which Silaem had organised his forces, there had barely been time for barricades to be built and no time at all to prepare supplies for a lengthy stalemate. The elves had been reluctant to be barricaded in the castle. They were prepared to fight and die to prevent Silaem reaching his goal but only if they had the feel of the land beneath their feet.

Looking around, Midhel once again convinced himself that he had made the right decision to confront Silaem in the open. The elves would not have been comfortable in the confines of the castle. As well, there had only been time to gather a few supplies that would run out in a matter of days. It would have just meant delaying the confrontation until the defenders were weak from hunger.

Midhel could now see Silaem’s army approaching through the sparse trees at the edge of the forest. Midhel cursed silently as his fear suddenly constricted the muscles in his stomach. A slew of heavily armed dwarf warriors suddenly spilled from the trees and ran with surprising speed across the cleared ground, their blood-chilling war cries carrying clearly in the still morning air. The light mist that remained gave them an unearthly appearance sure to raise superstitious dread in the defenders.

Midhel turned to the first line of elfish defenders, crouched behind low barricades made of hastily hewn forest timber, and raised his voice. ‘May your arrows fly straight and your sword strike true,’ he shouted and arrows soared through the air to fall as thick as raindrops on the dwarves. Midhel cursed as few dwarves fell. The arrows would take only the unlucky as they could not pierce the thick armour the dwarves wore.

Also, the dwarves had anticipated the arrows and were carrying shields in testudo fashion; something they had not done before as they normally used both arms to swing their battleaxes.

As most of the arrows fell to the ground broken, the dwarves’ charge was undaunted and they were soon at the defences. Cries of pain mingled with battle cries as the first clash of steel echoed through the air. After throwing away their shields, the dwarves threw themselves against the hastily built barricades. Some carried short ladders that were hurriedly propped against the walls.

The ladders were also a new addition to the dwarf way of fighting, and Midhel guessed that Silaem was responsible. He had assumed that the dwarves would try to bring down the barricades rather than climb them and so had ordered them to be made as thick as they were high. However, the folly of this was now evident as the dwarves threatened to swarm up the ladders, and the wide parapet now promised to become a killing ground. Midhel’s anxiety grew as he realised that Silaem had anticipated exactly what Midhel would do, and he could only wonder what else Silaem had planned.

The elf warriors waited until the first of the dwarves reached the top of their ladders, and then they counterattacked before the dwarves could get their footing. Many of the dwarves were unused to climbing. Indeed, there was some obvious uncertainty at the foot of the ladders as the dwarves vied not to be first on so unstable an arrangement. The dwarves’ fear of heights was legendary and so they were nervous and unsteady as they reached the top of the ladders. The elfish warriors knew that if they were to have any chance, they would need to contain the dwarves at the barricades, for if they gained a foothold in the open land beyond the barricades, they would be unstoppable as there were no other defences before the castle.

At this point the elfish archers in reserve drew their swords and rushed to join the battle. The combatants were too mixed to be able to pick targets and so arrows were nearly useless. In addition, the dwarves had not yet mastered the ladder assault and were vulnerable, so the desperation of the defenders began to turn the tide of battle. Soon, the dwarves began to withdraw.

Before the retreating dwarves had reached the safety of the trees, they met and then ran through advancing dwarf bowmen. The short but powerful dwarf bows were normally no match for the longer elfish bows, and the elfish archers quickly rushed forward with their bows once again. The dwarf archers endured flight after flight of elfish arrows as they continued their march forward. Many of the elfish arrows found targets this time, as the advancing archers carried no shields and wore lighter armour, but still they advanced.

When the dwarves came within range of their own bows, they stopped together in an unusually uniformed way and started to return fire. The effect on the defenders was devastating! The elves wore only light armour and there was little protection to be had from the barricades, as the defenders had not expected archers. They had assumed that the dwarves would not expose themselves to the longer range of the elf bows and had therefore not prepared any defensive shelters. Once again Silaem had prepared well and had out-thought his opponents.

Scores of defenders were quickly felled before the survivors retreated behind the parapets. Under the cover of the dwarf arrows, Silaem’s army once again attacked. The defenders were caught unprepared, and they retreated behind the barricades to shelter from the rain of arrows, and so the dwarves were allowed to master their ladders and mount the barricades virtually unopposed.

Midhel then sensed a surge of power. The Valderesh warriors had not yet taken part in the battle, but now they rose as one from their meditations and unsheathed their swords as they marched purposefully towards the foe. Although Grandon had told Midhel they did not use magic, as it was virtually useless against the vampires, it was obvious to Midhel that these were beings of power.

The dwarves were caught unawares by the Valderesh. Led by two massive warriors and their dwarf leader, the Valderesh fought in silence, but the speed and ease with which they cut down their foes was frightening even to their allies.

The elves were possessed of speed, strength, and reflexes well beyond human measures, but these warriors made them look like blundering children. Their swords were no more than blurs, and their silvered armour offered no obvious weaknesses. This time as the attackers were repelled, Midhel dared believe that they might have a chance.

But the Valderesh were too few in number to confront all the attackers. As a third attack was launched, a large group of dwarves and a medium-sized troll about the size of a small elephant managed to fight through a gap in the barricades, and they started running towards the castle. Midhel, seeing the danger, acted instinctively and relocated instantaneously to face the attackers. Summoning his strength, he scattered them with a fireball. A couple of dwarves perished and still others were hacked down by elves while they were disorientated. However, most were huddled behind the massive bulk of the troll, who shrugged off a second fireball with no ill affects.

With the dwarves urging it on, the troll broke into a surprisingly swift jog. Midhel closed his eyes and felt for the troll with his mind. Grabbing it with his power, he lifted it up into the air and dropped it back onto the shocked dwarves. The elves rushed in and stabbed the troll in the soft flesh between the rock-hard skin plates, eventually finding its vital organs. Its screams were penetrating. Trolls do not die easily. The surviving dwarves were also quickly dispatched.

Midhel staggered from the letdown he always felt after expending large amounts of energy. A human hand steadied him. ‘Easy, Grandfather, we have a long battle ahead of us.’ Midhel smiled weakly in response. The hand belonged to Michael, one of only two true humans who were in Midhel’s forces.

Midhel stared momentarily at the tall, blond man before him. Involuntarily, he compared the man’s fit, tanned skin, and obviously muscular body with his own. Michael at thirty-nine was in the prime of his strength and coupled it with a resolute determination that inspired Midhel. By contrast, the wizard considered his own ageing body, rejuvenated countless times by his magic. He was, however, still strong, and he prayed that his strength would last the trials to come.

Michael was not from Salonika. He was from the modern world on Earth and was Midhel’s direct descendant, a result of a time when Midhel called Earth home. Michael had inherited enough of Midhel’s power and adventurous spirit to enable him to find and use the gateway, and had in time become as close to Midhel as his own dead family once was.

Michael and his twenty-year-old son, Grant, were objects of curiosity as humans were virtually unknown in this part of Salonika, and the gateway was a closely guarded secret by Michael’s family on the Earth side. Michael’s other son, Kevin, who was the only other human to have knowledge of the gateway, had been too young to bring. Despite coming from a world where battles were no longer fought face to face, both Michael and Grant had so far given a good account of themselves largely because of the intensive training they had suffered at the hands of the elves.

Midhel drew in a deep breath. It had been a foolish act of anger and pride that had made him expend so much energy in destroying the troll. He knew he must conserve his power to face Silaem if they were to have any chance of defeating him, for only his magic was strong enough. Silaem had moved beyond the point were he could be threatened by mere metal. Still, he noticed that the enemy had lost their impetus and had once again fallen back to the forest, allowing the defenders to close the breach in their defences.

As the last of the attackers retreated to the cover of the trees, Silaem appeared on a blood-red beast that appeared to be half horse and half dragon. The beast was the size of a rhinoceros with longer legs, and although its head was horse-shaped, there the resemblance ended. Twin horns protruded from both sides of its head and its mouth had the shape of a parrot’s beak. While its skin was red, it was covered in transparent scales that flashed grotesquely beautiful small rainbows as they caught the sun.

Midhel did not recognise the beast and did not have time to reflect on its origin as it waddled awkwardly, but remarkably swiftly across the field to the barricades. Its formidably scaly armour was unnecessary as the flights of arrows spent themselves against Silaem’s magic. It was as though the energy was sucked away from them just before they reached their mark.

The beast paused and bared its fangs at the defenders, and then it let out a high-pitched, screaming roar which was a prelude to a wave of flame which issued from its throat to wash over the barricades. The defenders were caught unawares as they regained their parapets and stared at the hideously magnificent beast. Midhel saw several defenders fall to ground. Some were trying to smother the flames on their clothes while others fell and lay still. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. Pixies who were tending the wounded were soon openly weeping as they tried in vain to help the victims.

Midhel watched in horror as a pixie held a cloth to an elf’s cheek. As the cloth was removed, so was the elf’s flesh. His teeth and jaw showed clearly in a death grin. Another elf thrashed on the ground, clawing at what remained of his face. His eyes had evaporated in the heat. His face was blackened and twisted. Apart from his eye sockets and mouth, there was nothing else recognisable.

The defenders’ eyes turned to Midhel. Even the Valderesh were watching him closely. Midhel realised that he had to do something. He hurled a fireball that Silaem easily avoided by dancing his beast sideways. Silaem laughed as his beast retaliated with another blast of flame. Several more defenders were incinerated as they had rushed forward to try to gather the warriors who had fallen outside the walls.

Midhel was horrified that Silaem had now sunk so low that he would not even respect the recovery of wounded. His anger boiled, overriding his weariness. Midhel hurled several more fireballs. Most missed, but one exploded on the beast’s nose. For a moment its roars stopped and Silaem cursed loudly enough for all to hear as the beast reared in surprise and pain.

It was soon apparent that the beast, while shaken, was not seriously hurt. Silaem regained control and the beast went eerily still. It silently stared back towards where the fireball had come from.