The first thing that penetrated the blackness and the silence was heat. Warmth washed over Raelin. The second thing was sound.

“Raelin?” The voice was soft, quiet. Raelin slowly opened her eyes.

It was dark. She was lying on her side, facing a small fire, and Drake was kneeling over her. “Raelin?” he repeated.

Raelin sat up. She still felt groggy, and she had a terrible headache, but everything seemed a lot clearer. Her mind was her own once more.

“What happened?” she asked, relieved to find that her voice sounded normal once more.

Drake sat back. “Kee-Mo-Shi tried to mindshackle you, and very nearly did.”

“Mindshackle?” repeated Raelin, getting her legs under her and sliding into a more comfortable position.

“She tried to take over your mind,” Drake explained. “I’ve never seen a marro try to mindshackle that fast before, though. She seemed to have a crystal that was helping her.” He sat down next to Raelin. “She’s dead, and I saw the crystal shatter on the ground. You should be fine now.” He looked her up and down. “How do you feel?”

“Weak,” Raelin decided after a minute. “And I have a headache.”

“You haven’t eaten all day,” Drake said. “Zetacron determined you would be all right once you woke up, so we kept moving.  You’ve been asleep all day.” Drake got up and returned with some of the army rations that Raelin found so tasteless. She was grateful for anything at the moment, however, and ate them, though Drake warned her to go slowly.

“How do you know about mindshackling?” Raelin asked as she chewed.

Drake waved a hand dismissively. “Utgar summoned a marro warlord about the time Jandar summoned me. We met on the battlefield a few months ago, and he tried to claim my mind. Sullivan saved my life.

“Mindshackling isn’t to be played with. I didn’t black out, but I felt like I was about to. It drains a person. I was tired and weak for three days before the effects finally wore off. You were exposed a lot longer than I was… you should probably take it easy and get some more rest.”

Raelin would have objected – she had been sleeping all day after all – but her head hurt less after the food, and the warmth from the fire was actually making her feel drowsy. She agreed, and folding her wings more properly than they had been, curled up next to Drake. It didn’t take long for sleep to find her.

---

The next morning found the army hastening towards Stechavan. They were close, but they were later than they should have been. Drake had Raelin ride a horse rather than walk as she had been doing. She felt embarrassed at first (kyrie rarely ride horses), but after the first few miles, decided that she was glad for the break.

As the day progressed, the cold fresh air cleared Raelin’s head. She felt strength return to her, and Kee-Mo-Shi’s attempt at mind control became a thing of the past. She was just thinking that she might try walking for a stretch, when an Omnicron came running back towards them from up ahead.

Soulborgs generally do not run. But this one ran with a calculated grace, and for a moment, Raelin forgot it was mostly a machine. It skidded to a halt in front of Drake.

“Stechavan burns,” it reported tonelessly. “Utgar’s main force is still a day’s journey away, but kyrie scouts are already burning and pillaging.”

Drake swung onto his horse. “Tell Zetacron to set up a perimeter. Don’t let any minions escape, but wait for my command to attack. I’d prefer to catch the minions alive if I can – they could have information that Jandar desperately needs.”

The Omnicron blinked once, and turned, running back up the faint dirt road.

Drake rose up in the saddle and turned to the men behind him. “Stechavan is under attack. Mount your horses and follow my lead.”

---

Raelin leaned against the ruin of a house, crouching to stay out of sight. A moment later, Sullivan slumped down beside her.

Drake crept past them, legs bent, crouching like the rest. He risked a quick glance around the corner of the house, and pulled back sharply.

“How many?” asked Raelin in a whisper.

“At least twenty,” Drake whispered back. “It looks like they’re collecting everyone and putting them in the center of the village.” He crept back to Raelin and Sullivan. “I’m going to go find Zetacron and make sure everyone is in position. Remember; do not attack until I do. That will be the signal.”

Raelin and Sullivan nodded. Drake crept past them and around the other corner.

Raelin closed her eyes and let herself relax against the rough wall of the house. They had crept into the village silently. Drake had spent the last ten minutes maneuvering the Omnicrons in a wide circle about the village. The plan was that once he gave the signal, they would all close in at once, thus capturing all of the minions. If any tried to escape, they would be shot down instantly by the Omnicrons.

Raelin waited. She had no idea how long it would take Drake to find Zetacron. Beside her, Sullivan silently drew his shotgun from the sling he carried it in. Raelin got a firmer grip on the Spear of Gerda. Drake could attack at any moment.

“Good thing the scouts are kyrie, and not orcs,” Sullivan muttered under his breath, eyes on the corner.

“Orcs?” Raelin repeated. She had heard the name, but was unsure what it meant.

Sullivan spat. “Utgar summoned them. Blue hairless creatures, a bit shorter than a man. For the most part though, they look human. They have a reputation for violence. They don’t care if you’ve surrendered or not, orcs. They’ll torture you anyway, just to see how loud you scream.”

Raelin shuttered and turned away. If Utgar was summoning orcs, who knew what else was passing through his wellspring? Even now, he could be unleashing horrors beyond imagination upon Valhalla.

Raelin was startled by the clang of metal on metal. There was a thud, and a cry of pain. That wasn’t Drake. There was no sound of Omnicrons firing. Raelin silently crept to the edge of the house and peered around it.

The village square was before her. In the center of it, piled up like brushwood, were at least fifty kyrie. Most of them were women, but a good number were children or old men. Raelin could see them shivering with fright and cold. Guards, their red skin gleaming in the weak sunlight, watched them closely, their axes held ready.

As Raelin watched, a pair of minions entered her field of vision, dragging a woman and a small boy. The boy couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve, but he kicked and struggled against the minion holding him. Raelin guessed that the woman must be his mother.

“Cease your pitiful thrashings!” the minion holding the boy snarled as he threw him down with the other prisoners. “Annoy me again and I’ll give you something worth struggling about!”

“Peran!” the boy cried. “Leave my brother alone!”

“Your brother will get what’s coming to him. Now be silent or share his fate.”

The mother cried out. “No! Please! Not Peran! Not my son! Please!”

“Silence, urchin!” The minion kicked the woman back against the other prisoners. The small boy leapt at the minion, but only received a booted foot in his stomach. He fell to the street.

Raelin gripped her spear harder. She couldn’t watch much more of this. It was this, this pain and suffering, that she had sworn to stop. She would not sit idly by. She couldn’t. Wait for Drake, she told herself. Drake will come any moment. If she attacked prematurely, minions could escape the village and warn Utgar.

Two more minions came into view, dragging another kyrie boy. This one was older, and he wore the armor of Jandar. Raelin guessed he was at least seventeen. Blood trickled down from a wound in his head, and he appeared to fading in and out of consciousness. The minions propped him up on his knees in front of the prisoners.

“For any of you who may be thinking of causing a disturbance,” said a large minion, walking towards the boy, “let me give you a little example what we do with those that fight us.” The minion stopped in front of the boy and forced his head up with the point of his axe. “Look at me, dog.”

“Peran!” the mother shrieked. A minion kicked her, and she fell into sobs.

Raelin felt her blood run cold. Hurry up, Drake, she pleaded. Please, please hurry up.

The minion glared at Peran. “You’re a soldier of Jandar, correct?”

Peran turned insolate eyes to the minion. “Yes,” he spat, blood leaking from his mouth.

“And how many of my companions have you killed?”

“When I kill you, I’ll add you to their number.”

The minion laughed. And then he slammed his fist into the side of Peran’s head. “Do not give me trouble, whelp. I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

Two guards propped Peran back up. He weaved on the spot, but they held him steady.

The minion took a step closer to Peran. “Since you seem unwilling to answer that question, how about another one? Jandar knows by now we’re coming for him. Tell me, where is his force? With what does he intend to defend himself, and where?”

Peran glared up at the minion. “Fool,” he snarled. “I’ve been on leave for two weeks. I know of no plans.”

The minion hefted his axe and swung the flat of the blade into Peran, knocking him over. “Do not lie to me,” he hissed.”

“Please!” the mother shrieked. “He tells the truth! He’s been with us for two weeks. He knows nothing!”

“I said silence!” one of the guards snarled. He kicked the kyrie woman to the ground again.

The guards propped Peran back up.

“Tell me what you know,” the minion said softly, “and I’ll kill you now. Don’t, and I’ll kill your mother slowly until you do.” He nodded to one of the guards, who yanked Peran’s mother up and held an axe to her throat. He turned back to Peran. “Now talk, or he starts cutting.”

Peran licked his lips. “Please,” he said, “I know nothing. Just… Just let her go. Please.”

The minion cocked his head. “You northern kyrie are so insensitive. You would sacrifice your own mother for a general you hardly know.” He nodded to the guard.

Raelin stood up. She had reached her limit. She was not about to let an innocent kyrie be murdered in cold blood. Before she could step out from behind the house, however, a thunderous blast erupted from behind her.

The minion holding the axe against Peran’s mother was flung backwards. He landed a few feet away, a pool of blood rapidly swelling beneath him. Raelin whirled to look behind her, and found Sullivan lowering the barrel of his shotgun.

“Your time’s up, dogs!” he yelled. And then, before Raelin could stop him, he leapt into the center of the village square and leveled his shotgun at the minion standing over Peran.

The minion leapt to the air, dodging the blast by some stroke of ill fortune. In a moment, he saw Raelin. Figuring out what was happening, he turned and flew for the mountain pass that would lead to Utgar. Raelin watched him go helplessly. She might have been able to overtake him, but she was no match for his skill with the axe. He would kill her, and warn Utgar.

“Hold it!” Drake shouted, springing into view. He leveled his grapple gun at the minion and fired. For a moment Raelin wondered what he was doing. Then the grapple hook sank into the minion’s shoulder, and Drake yanked him back to the ground, where he was immediately secured by two Omnicrons.

More Omnicrons burst from the surrounding buildings, their weapons aimed at the other minions. The accuracy of the Omnicrons was legendary; the minions knew better than to flee. Raelin scanned the sky. Impossible as it seemed, no minions had escaped. Their plan had worked, and Utgar was none the wiser.

Weeping was what drew Raelin’s gaze back to earth.

“Peran… oh Peran…” It seemed that the minion, either in his haste to get away, or simply out of spite, had swung his axe at Peran. The boy had a deep cut from his shoulder all the way across his neck. Raelin had seen enough wounds to know that it was deadly, and from the look on Drake’s face, he knew it too. Blood was spouting from Peran’s throat in sickly amounts.

Peran’s mother was trying to staunch the bleeding. She had her hands pressed to her son’s throat, but the blood continued to come out, spraying from beneath her fingers and covering her face. “No, Peran, please, stay with me, stay with me.”

Peran made a gurgling sound. He struggled, trying to grasp his mother’s shoulder, but he couldn’t quite manage it. He fell to the ground. Raelin knew he was choking on his own blood. Kelda, we need you. Why didn’t Jandar send you too? Kelda may have been able to do something, but Raelin knew that she was powerless to save the boy. Powerless. Because of Utgar, she couldn’t stop this pain.

It didn’t take long. Peran gasped his last, and then lay still. Drake gently forced Peran’s mother from the body, and led her into one of the burned out houses, where she wouldn’t be able to see her dead son. Two Omnicrons covered up the body, and removed it from the village. All that was left was a terrible red stain on the stone of the street.

The young boy, Peran’s brother, still knelt on the road where the minions had left him. He stared at the blood as if incapable of motion. After a moment, Raelin went to him.

She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to comfort the boy, but she didn’t know how. Again, she wished Kelda had been with her. She would have known what to do.

“What’s your name?” she finally asked, crouching beside the boy.

“Ferim,” the boy rasped. He didn’t take his eyes from the blood. “He was my big brother. He always looked out for me, kept me out of trouble. Do you know what he said to me right before he left to join Jandar?”

“What?” asked Raelin.

“He said to never stop fighting. To never lose hope. He said Valhalla was his home, and we were his family, and he would continue defending both for as long as he drew breath. He told me to do the same. I promised I would.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” said Raelin gently. “The guards would have just killed you too.”

“How can you know that?” asked Ferim, turning to her. “Maybe there was something I could do.”

“Maybe there was,” said Raelin after a moment. “But it helps no one to dwell on the past. Your brother promised to defend his family, your family. It was his dying wish. You can honor his memory by staying with your mother. I think he would like that.”

Ferim glared at her. “Stay here? Cower at home while my fate is decided? How will that help anything? How can that help anyone? The ones who did this need to be destroyed! I will hunt them down and kill them all!”

“Look at your mother,” Raelin said firmly. “Look at her grief. Do you see the pain she is in? Do you know why she feels that pain?”

“Because Utgar has taken—”

“No,” said Raelin. “Utgar has nothing to do with her pain. She suffers because she has lost a son. That is why. If you were to kill the ones responsible for this, you would be spreading that pain to others. Is that what you want? Killing can’t end the pain. It can only make more.”

Ferim got up. “But it would end mine,” he said. He turned and left her, heading for the house where his mother was.

---

They spent the night in Stechavan. Nearly all of the buildings had been burned and ransacked by the minions. The soulborgs didn’t need sleep, so they stood guard in a ring about the village, scanning the night incessantly.

They built several fires in the village square, and crowded the captured minions about them, since there was no remaining house large enough to confine them. Omnicron guards were placed around the square with orders to kill any minion that tried to escape.

Drake found a house nearby that had remained fairly intact, although most of its roof had been burned away. He cleared away most of the rubble that had fallen in the main room, and managed to light a fire in the ruined grate. It was bitterly cold outside, and with no ceiling, the house wasn’t much better, but by the fire it was warm enough. Raelin and Drake settled against the wall as the night descended. Utgar would likely reach the pass in the morning, and they needed to sleep before then.

However, Raelin couldn’t sleep. She watched the stars overhead, listened to the crackling of the fire, and felt a sensation she could almost have described as homesickness. And yet, she had no home anymore. She had lost it to Utgar. What she felt was a deeper hurt, a quiet despair that things would never return to the way they had been. How could they? How could such a terrible thing as this war ever be forgotten? It would forever blight their past, and nothing… nothing would ever be the same again. Her life had been innocence, and that innocence was gone.

“Can’t sleep?” asked Drake from beside her.

Raelin continued to watch the stars. “It’s so quiet,” she said. “So… peaceful.” She remembered another peaceful night, in what seemed another lifetime. “I used to like peaceful nights,” she sighed. “To me, they always meant that everything would be all right. That nothing bad or terrible could shatter them. They meant the war would never reach me. But they were always so quiet… now it seems as if they were holding their breath, waiting for what they knew was to come.”

Drake was silent.

“I could never kill,” whispered Raelin. “Never cause such misery. Each life, be it kyrie, human, even marro, is precious. Someone, somewhere, loves each one of them, and I could never turn that love to pain. Never.”

“I know,” said Drake. “I used to think the same thing. I still do,” he added as Raelin looked at him. “I know perfectly well the worth of a life.” He paused for nearly a minute. “But,” he said at length, “I’ve realized something else, too. When I joined the army, and when I killed my first Nazi, I realized that the only way I would ever be able to protect anyone, was by killing the people trying to hurt them. I enlisted to protect lives, not to end them, but by some form of twisted logic, I end them to save them. It’s a terrible paradox, but I believe it is what must be done. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, but I do know it is what’s needed.”

Raelin looked back up to the stars. Normally she would have disagreed. But tonight, after what had happened, she didn’t have it in her. “I can’t argue against your logic, Drake,” she said. “But neither can I accept it.”

She rearranged her position against the wall into a semblance of comfort and closed her eyes. “I don’t quite agree with you, Drake,” she murmured as sleep surrounded her. “I can’t. I have to hope that there is a better way. A way without… pain.” The last word slipped from her, even as her mind slipped into that eraser of all worries: sleep.

“Hope, Raelin,” Drake whispered to her as she slept. “Cling to it, for hope is all we have left at times like this. I will not be the one to take it from you in the face of reality.”

---

It was still night when Raelin was torn from sleep by a bloodcurdling cry. Drake was on his feet and out the ruined door in an instant, and Raelin followed quickly.

The numerous fires lit the village center, and the mass of prisoners. The Omnicron guards were still at their stations, but two had their weapons lowered at what appeared to be a kneeling minion. Raelin recognized him as the minion that had slain Peran. As she and Drake drew closer, Peran’s brother, Ferim, came into view. He was holding a sword to the minion’s throat.

“Lower your weapon,” one of the Omnicrons commanded tonelessly.

Ferim laughed. “You won’t shoot me,” he said. “Your orders are to guard the enemy, not me.”

“We have free wills,” the Omnicron remarked coolly. “I will kill you if you do not com-ply.”

“Stand down,” Drake ordered, striding towards the boy. The soulborgs lowered their weapons. “What is the meaning of this?” Drake commanded.

Ferim looked at the minion. “He killed my brother,” he said quietly. “Now I have killed him.” As he spoke, he lifted the sword to reveal a gash in the minion’s throat, eerily similar to the one Peran had sustained. The minion crumpled to the street. Raelin could tell he had been dead the moment Ferim had struck.

“I needed him alive!” Drake shouted. “He was the commander, he could have known Utgar’s plans!”

Ferim looked up into Drake’s eyes without flinching. “Peran has been avenged,” he said simply. 

Raelin laid a hand on Drake’s shoulder as he opened his mouth to speak again. “Let him go,” she said quietly. “He’s not in his right mind.”

“I am very in my right mind,” Ferim said calmly. “You spoke earlier of pain. I have killed the minion, and my pain is gone.”

Raelin looked at Ferim. “That’s not true,” she said. Something in her voice frightened her. It sounded… dangerous. Even Ferim looked wary of her for a moment.

However, as Raelin turned away, she found herself repeating Ferim’s words to herself. My pain is gone. Gone. I’ve killed, and my pain is gone. No, Raelin reprimanded herself, that cannot be true. There has to be another way. Killing only creates pain.

But she couldn’t deny that she herself had such a desire. She too wanted revenge for the deaths of her father and mother. No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, the desire remained. If Ferim had found peace… No. There is another way.

There has to be.

If Raelin had thought Valhalla was a beautiful place, she thought so even more now. She had always thought that beauty had been trees, grass, and running water, all under a clear blue sky. A village had almost always been a scar, a blight upon the land; something that was necessary, yet didn’t belong. That was before she saw Valgrind.

What Raelin had seen in that glorious city had changed her opinion of beauty forever. Art was everywhere; there were no drab colors in Valgrind. Music had permeated the streets, changing mood with every step. Kindness had been in everyone’s hearts. Drake had once told Raelin of a place people went after they died, a place where nothing bad could ever exist. If that place was real, Raelin was sure it would be like Valgrind.

“Raelin,” said Drake, coming up behind her, “don’t go too far off the path.”

Raelin laughed. She had been walking apart from the army, enjoying the smell of trees and the sounds of birds. “We’re not even out of Nastralund, Drake,” she said. “There are no enemies here.”

“You’d be surprised,” Drake muttered, scanning the trees. They had left Valgrind two days earlier, and had covered over half the distance to Stechavan. The entire journey had been through a light forest, where the young trees, nearly bare with the coming winter, let the sun shine down on the hard ground. The air now held a definite hint of frost.

“Wasn’t Valgrind wonderful, Drake?” Raelin asked. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

Drake smiled down at her. He was riding one of the Templar’s horses. “Not quite like it, no. Although, I have seen some sights in my day.”

“Like what?” asked Raelin.

“Well, London for one thing. You probably wouldn’t like it – raining all the time, not the cleanest of places – but some of the buildings… they were—”

“We’re under attack! Help, it’s the— AUGH!”

Drake whirled around. In an instant, the woods came alive. Beasts burst from behind the trees, snarling and snapping, and charged the force. They were skeletal and red, their large black eyes glittering in the bright sunlight. Taller than Raelin’s waist, they charged the men, plunging their teeth into anything they could reach.

“Drake,” Raelin cried, “what are they?”

Drake drew his sword. “Marro,” he shouted back as his horse reared. “Hounds. Get back, Raelin. Don’t let them anywhere near you; they carry a deadly plague!”

“Plague?” Raelin repeated fearfully, but Drake was already gone. She leapt to the air and flew back to the main body of the troops – mostly Vikings and Templars. The soulborgs were up ahead, scouting. Despite Drake’s warning, the men seemed to be defeating the marro easily enough. At least at first.

A moment later, more marro burst from the trees. These marro were humanoid, smaller than kyrie, and they rode atop wolfish mounts as big as horses. Above their heads they whirled what looked horribly like human spinal cords, flailing them like whips. A skull was attached to the end of each.

“Groks!” Drake yelled, riding into view. His sword was dyed green and yellow with blood. “Templars, form up and charge!”

There was confusion for a moment, and then the knights turned their horses into place and lowered their lances. Raelin took to the air again so she wouldn’t be in the way. Drake wheeled his own horse about to face the oncoming Groks.

“Charge!” he bellowed, slashing his sword down.

Raelin flew along above the horses, angling her spear downwards. In her mind, she focused on Drake and the Templars, and a blue field of magic erupted from the tip of the spear, enveloping them.

For a moment, the Groks looked hopelessly outnumbered. They seemed to realize it themselves, because a few broke ranks and ran the opposite way. But then, without warning, ten of the charging knights dropped dead. There was no attack, no movement. They just… died. Looking up, Raelin saw many more men drop to the ground as well. And then a lone figure rose above the trees, an evil smile upon her face, her helmet held in her hands.

“Runa,” Raelin muttered to herself. She had heard of this kyrie from reports, and knew that she was deadly.

Runa rocketed downwards, speeding straight for Drake. Drake saw her a moment too late, and Runa crashed into him, sending them both to the ground. The Templars swerved in their charge to avoid trampling them, and the Groks smashed into them, aided by a new wave of marro hounds that burst from the trees.

Raelin focused with all her might on Drake, willing her spear to keep him protected. Unfortunately, she focused so hard that she didn’t see the Grok directly beneath her until his flail caught her foot.

Raelin slammed into the ground, and her spear flew from her grasp. The Grok above her turned to face her, Raelin rolled away, and then she felt an extremely painful jab in her stomach. Something long, heavy, and extremely sharp was keeping her pinned to the ground.

Raelin’s immediate impression was of tangled hair and the smell of rotting skin. Neither was very pleasant. The creature above her was definitely a marro, though Raelin might have guessed it was a female. She had six legs, sharp like a crab’s, and held a heavy staff in her two hands.

The marro thrust her face into Raelin’s. “Do you know who I am, kyrie?”

Raelin tried to back away, but the marro’s foot held her secure.

“I am Kee-Mo-Shi, and from this point onwards, you will serve me.”

Raelin glanced very briefly into Kee-Mo-Shi’s deep black eyes. That proved to be a mistake.

Sound instantly died. Raelin’s muscles tensed. She realized she couldn’t move. She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t even breathe. She could feel her mind going fuzzy. Her senses became overpowered with the stench of swamp and rot, and Kee-Mo-Shi’s merciless eyes bored deep into her own, penetrating, tearing, revealing all…

Kee-Mo-Shi let loose an earsplitting scream, and Raelin fell back on the ground, gasping for breath. She couldn’t breathe. Sound overwhelmed her. Her eyes couldn’t focus. Everything was shifting between light and dark, clear and blurred. Raelin’s stomach churned, and her mind went black for a moment.

“Raelin! Raelin! Wake up!”

Raelin drew a breath. It hurt terribly. She let it out slowly and drew another one. She wanted to take only small breaths because of the pain, but she needed oxygen. Her mind threatened to slip away again. She forced herself to breathe deeply, gritted her teeth against the pain, and looked up through watering eyes. Drake knelt before her, his sword a mass of green and yellow. Looking beyond him, Raelin saw Kee-Mo-Shi, twitching in her final seconds of life.

“Are you all right?” Drake asked. “Can you focus?”

“No,” answered Raelin. Her speech was slurred, slow. It frightened her. Why couldn’t she talk right? Her concern was mirrored in Drake’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, Raelin,” Drake said. “You’ll be fine. You’ve just—”

Whatever else Drake was about to say was lost to the wind. Something red slammed into him, and Raelin was left blankly staring at where he had been. In her stunned state, it took her a moment to turn her head and see what had happened.

Drake was struggling with Runa on the ground. He appeared to have the upper hand. He was on top of Runa, trying to get his sword pointed at her, but she kept squirming and writhing out of the way. Finally, she kicked him in the side, which caused him to lose his grip on her. She kicked him in the stomach, rolled over, and jetted out from under him, bringing her sword down at his shoulder as she flew upwards. Drake blocked the blow.

A sudden barrage of gunfire overloaded Raelin’s mind again. She watched in a dazed stupor as Omnicrons – soulborg minions of Zetacron – advanced on the remaining marro, annihilating them with their superior firepower. The smoke stung her eyes and filled the air, adding to the confused jumble in Raelin’s mind. After a brief struggle, everything blurred together and Raelin faded into blackness once more.

It had been seventeen months since Utgar had last seen his daughter in this room. Seventeen months since she had stood before him, rigidly at attention. She had been young then: unknown to the war, unblemished by its pain. That had been long ago.

The room was as dark as ever, the only source of light the same two braziers by the door. Utgar observed his daughter silently. “You have changed, Runa,” he murmured. “It seems but a week ago that you were small enough to crawl upon my knee. And now you stand before me, a warrior, hardened by battle, respected by those about you. You have indeed changed.”

“I have changed for the better, my father,” Runa said, her voice measured, powerful. “The alliance has come to fear me as a tool of your will.”

“A tool,” Utgar mused, half to himself. “But a precious tool.”

Runa knelt on one knee. “What do you wish, my father?”

Utgar regarded his daughter’s bowed head solemnly. “There are those in the alliance who have made names for themselves, even as you have. They are beacons of hope for the common soldier. If they are removed, morale falls, and our victories increase. There is little Jandar can do to win now, and I believe he knows it; but he will not surrender. He is far too determined for that. If these heroes are removed however… the end may come swiftly.

“I have received word that the alliance means to strike me at Stechavan. Doubtless, they even think to kill me there.” Utgar paused, staring into the flames by the door. “They will be foiled. Kee-Mo-Shi means to ambush them on their way. She has acquired an amulet, a powerful relic with which she believes she will be able to take control of Raelin.”

“Raelin, my father?”

Utgar smiled. “Raelin is opposed to the war. Her spear, the Spear of Gerda, can protect her allies about her. Her presence can often sway a battle against us. However, she herself remains unprotected. If Kee-Mo-Shi were to succeed, and she were to join our ranks…

“You will accompany Kee-Mo-Shi. While she takes Raelin, you shall wreak havoc amongst the rest of the force.” Utgar leaned forward. “Runa, use caution. Drake is on this mission as well.”

“Drake?” said Runa, raising her head. “He is but an ant compared to my power.”

“Do not underestimate him, Runa. You could kill him, but if you fail, he would destroy you. Kill him if you can, but if you cannot, leave. I have no wish for you to fall in battle.”

“Father, I—”

“I have told you what I wish.”

Runa stared at Utgar for a brief moment, and then dropped her head. “As you command.”

“I’ve never seen this part of the castle,” remarked Drake.

Raelin sighed. The air was damp, and carried the unmistakable scent of late autumn. “It’s seldom visited these days. And when it is, it is only by kyrie or Vikings. No other race cares for our gods.”

Drake tilted his head, examining the tall statue at an angle. “And which one is this again?”

“Odin, Drake. You know that. The king of the gods. Don’t you have a deity you worship in your time?”

“One,” said Drake. “But I don’t think about it too much. Everything is consumed by the war back home. There isn’t much time for anything else.”

Raelin considered the statue. “I think the gods are one of the things we must find time for. They’re one of the last sources of peace we have left.”

“Well,” said Drake, stepping back, “I doubt Jandar summoned us here to stare at Odin. Where’s this map room?”

“This way,” said Raelin, moving off to one side of the statue. They were in a small tower at ground level, the center of which was dominated by the statue of Odin. Two lines of columns marched towards the statue on either side, dark curtains suspended between them. Raelin passed through the curtains on the right, Drake following her.

“I would have thought something like a map room would be in a more secretive place,” said Drake. The space behind the curtains was bare except for a single staircase that wound upwards. “I mean, not many would think to look here, but it is rather in the open.”

Raelin smiled to herself. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Instead of ascending the stairs, she went to the opposite wall and pushed in a brick that looked identical to those about it. There was a sound of gears turning, and then a portion of the wall swung inwards silently. “This way.”

The door closed behind them as they entered the small room behind it, revealing a dark and narrow staircase. The steps were not steep, but they curved downwards, their base hidden by the wall. The only source of light was a guttering torch on the wall behind them.

“After you?” Drake suggested.

Raelin started down the steps. They soon came to a heavy door, which Drake obligingly shoved open, and then stepped into the map room.

The room was small. It was circular, and its walls were rough and dotted with bright magical lights which cast an even glow over the room. The center was dominated by a vast table, upon which a highly detailed map of Valhalla rested, secured firmly to the surface. Wooden figures placed on the map represented the positions of armies. Raelin couldn’t help but notice that the forces of the alliance seemed pitifully small.

Raelin knew that the room was normally crowded, but at the moment, it only held five individuals. One was Jandar. It had nearly been a year and a half since Raelin had met him, but he seemed to have aged by five times that amount. His face was lined, and his hair was beginning to gray. He was still quite young, but the war and the wellspring were beginning to take their toll.

Two of the others in the room were the Viking brothers, Finn and Thorgrim. They had been with Jandar since the start, and had proven themselves to be useful warriors. Raelin had met them, but they were both a bit too rowdy for her taste. Not to mention unhygienic.

The other two occupants of the room Raelin knew by name only. The first was an individual from Earth. He had a habit of wearing his wide-brimmed hat down over his eyes, but the bulging shotgun beneath his leather coat left no doubt about who he was. Raelin had never gotten to know Johnny Sullivan, nicknamed “Shotgun” on the battlefield, but the reports had proven his worth many times over.

The last individual in the room was easy to recognize. He stood well above even Jandar, nearly twice the height of anyone else in the room. He was made up of metallic plates and wiring, supported by two powerful legs, and armed with, instead of hands, two gun barrels as big around as Raelin’s head. Zetacron the soulborg was a figure not easily missed.

Raelin had objected at first when Jandar began summoning soulborgs. Once she understood that they were machines designed to kill, she protested their recruitment. But Jandar, along with the soulborgs themselves, had explained their true identity. The soulborg was a robotic shell. Within that shell, somehow preserved, rested the essence of a creature Raelin could only guess had once been human. It took time, but she eventually got used to the soulborgs. They spoke and often acted like a kyrie. It was the armor and guns that gave people false impressions.

Jandar looked up. “Drake. Raelin. I’m glad you came.” His voice was slightly muffled, and Raelin could tell he was using the same enchantment she had once used in order to understand Drake. Many of the soldiers could speak Kyrien by now, but none of them – save for the soulborgs – were fluent in it.

“What’s this about, Jandar?” Drake asked. “My detachment is due to leave within the hour.”

“They’ll be leaving without you,” said Jandar. “I have a new mission for you, and for Raelin as well.”

Drake and Raelin approached the map-table.

“What I’m about to tell you,” said Jandar, “cannot leave this room. Is that clear?”

Everyone nodded.

“It is generally known that the war does not go well with us. What is not general knowledge is that the situation is far worse than is believed. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but at this point we can’t ignore it any longer. Utgar has had a wellspring from the beginning, and he has apparently now learned that he can summon an army through it. Drake, you have known this for some time.

“It’s been a tricky matter, juggling reports, but the fact is that Utgar’s forces are moving closer to Nastralund every day. Elswin is overrun. Even parts of Laur are being invaded. We’re slowly being surrounded. If something isn’t done soon, we’ll lose the war by sheer lack of resources if nothing else.

“Fortunately, Nastralund is isolated by mountains. The southern passes are well guarded; Utgar would be foolish to try to get through that way. The mountains to the west will be our last line of defense, and Utgar knows this. Word has just reached me that he has assembled a large army, and has pushed through Laur. He’ll be at our western borders within one week.

“Much of the mountains are impassable. I’ve closed off all of the routes except for the largest, which means it is through this that Utgar will have to pass. That route, that gap between the mountains, is Valgrind.”

Sullivan leaned closer to the map as Jandar pointed at it. The smell coming from him made Raelin edge a few inches away.

“Valgrind is a vast city,” Jandar continued. “Throughout the war, it has been our largest supplier of food and men. It is well fortified, but will stand no chance if Utgar is determined to take it. It lies directly in his path, and its loss would be a crippling blow against us. It must not fall.”

Sullivan scratched his stubbly chin. “And how do we figure into all of this?”

“The pass that Utgar must go through is narrow at one point. Two mountains guard it on either side, and the land between is rocky and difficult to traverse. On our side of the pass, in front of Valgrind, lies a small village – Stechavan by name. Utgar will want to take that village first, and then move on to Valgrind. I intend to stop him before he does either, and you will lead the forces.

“Finn and Thorgrim will command the main body of troops. They’ll form up a mile from Stechavan, and attack Utgar’s forces as they come through the pass. Once Utgar’s army organizes and strikes back in earnest, they’ll retreat – hopefully luring the rest of Utgar’s force out with them.

“Once that happens, an army of Ullar’s will crash into their left flank. Our own Templars will route their right. They’ll be cut in half, and Finn and Thorgrim will turn about, decimating them. Then we will fall upon the remainder and destroy them.”

Jandar had summoned all manner of soldiers to fight for him. The Templars, from Drake’s Earth, were a newer addition, and their lances were quickly thinning Utgar’s ranks. Jandar had other allies, however. Almost from the beginning, another general, Ullar by name, had aided them. He, aided by a wellspring of his own, had seen the need to stop Utgar, and he and Jandar had been tireless in their efforts to withstand the red legions.

There was a pause. After a moment, Drake said, “You said this was a large army. Our forces are stretched thin… can we really spare so many men?”

Jandar hesitated. “The attack is, in fact, a diversion. I have learned, through reputable sources, that Utgar himself plans to accompany this force. He is so sure of victory, that he means to walk into Nastralund and demand my surrender himself. We will put his arrogance to use. If we can kill him… we may just win the war.

“Drake, Sullivan – that’s where you come in. Once Utgar’s army is flanked, it will be your job to sneak through the pass, using the battle as a cover. You will find Utgar’s pavilion, and you will kill him before he knows what is happening. You will have to act quickly. If he sees you first, all chance of success may be gone.”

“Right…” said Drake. “What’s our backup?”

Jandar glanced at him. “You are the backup, Drake. It’s been seventeen months since I recruited you, and you’ve already made Utgar fear your name. I gave you my own enchanted katana, and with your grapple gun, you are more than a force to be reckoned with. You’re the most powerful soldier that I could spare. We must kill Utgar. It’s the only way we’ll ever end this war.”

“No,” said Raelin.

Everyone looked at her.

Raelin had spoken without meaning to. She had often thought what she might do if she had the chance to kill Utgar. Sometimes she had angrily sworn to kill him without hesitation. But other times, she had faltered. Slowly, very slowly, she had come to doubt her burning revenge. It wasn’t until now, however, that she fully understood why.

“You think… we can win this war another way, Raelin?” Jandar asked.

Raelin glanced at Drake, and then turned back to Jandar. “I think we have to. I never joined you to win this war, Jandar. I joined you to end it, to end the pain it causes. I joined you to stop the killing. I don’t think we can end killing by killing someone. Do you?”

Jandar considered her. “I think it is our only option. Or do you have an alternative?”

“No,” admitted Raelin, “but it must be there. I have to believe there’s another way to stop this war than causing more pain. That’s all that killing Utgar will do. You know he has second-in-commands that will take his place instantly. His entire army will be thrown into chaos, and hundreds more, maybe thousands, will die.”

“Not everything can be resolved peaceably, Raelin,” Drake said. “I don’t think anyone here is suggesting killing Utgar is the right course of action. It’s simply the necessary one.”

“I agree,” said Jandar. “Killing Utgar may cause the deaths of hundreds more, but it will save the lives of countless thousands.”

Raelin looked from one to the other. “Is that truly how you see your duty? Trade the deaths of the few for the lives of the many? People will die, Jandar.”

“I know, Raelin, and I detest it. But I have no other option. I consider it my duty to protect my people. The price is steep, but the alternative is far steeper.”

Sullivan and Zetacron stood by silently, watching.

“Jandar’s right, Raelin,” said Drake. “There’s no other way. Utgar will continue to kill unless he’s stopped. Maybe there’s a way we can do this without killing him, but I don’t see it. It’s a difficult decision either way, but given a choice between hundreds of deaths and thousands, I would take hundreds every time.”

Raelin looked at him. “What if I were in the hundreds? Would you be so quick to decide then?”

“I – That’s,” Drake stammered. “That’s beside the point.”

“No,” said Raelin. “No, it isn’t. Don’t you see? Everybody, everywhere, has someone who loves them. Even Utgar. If I were to lose Kelda, or Mallidon… I don’t know if I could live with it. The pain would be too much. Can you, with a good conscience, sentence hundreds to that same pain?

“Don’t you see? You’re trying to choose the lesser of two evils, but you’re missing the point. No evil is lesser or greater. They are all equally too terrible to be permitted. I don’t know if this can be resolved peaceably. I really don’t. But I have to trust that it can. I have to trust that we can find a way.”

The room was silent for a moment. Finally Jandar spoke. “I would like to find a way, too, Raelin,” he said. “I would love to. But I don’t believe there is one. And if there is a way, we don’t have the time to find it. Utgar will be here within the week if we don’t stop him, and then none of this will matter.

“You’re right, Raelin. I can’t with a good conscience sentence hundreds to the pain of loss. And I believe you’re also right that either consequence cannot be permitted. But I also believe we don’t have a choice between permitting it and preventing it. The only choice we have is how many casualties we allow, and I choose hundreds, not thousands. I’m sorry, Raelin. We have no other option. Drake, Sullivan – ready your men. You march at dawn.”

When Raelin had envisioned Jandar’s castle, she had not expected this. The room she now sat in was dark. There were no candles, no torches, and no fire in the cold hearth. The only light came from the door behind her, which was left slightly ajar for that very purpose.

Most of Jandar’s castle was dark, for it was excavated beneath the topmost tip of a massive mountain. It was impracticable, but when your enemy can fly, strong ceilings are a necessity.

The figure on the bed before Raelin stirred. She started, but the figure slept on, his face peaceful. Silence pervaded the room. The only sound was the occasional step of someone passing by in the hall outside. Raelin tried to calm herself, remembering what Jandar had said the day after they had arrived at the castle:

“They generally react better to their own species. It’s understandable, of course. I was a bit shocked myself the first time I saw one. Imagine having no wings…

“The ones we have right now are a bit rowdy, not very good at calming someone down at all. Kelda would be my obvious choice, but since she and Mallidon are with the garrison at Valgrind, I think you might be the best candidate we have.

“The main priority is to keep him calm. He’s just been snatched from certain death, and I want to break things to him slowly. The last thing I want is to have him running about, seeing too much too fast. Tell him where he is, keep him oriented, but don’t tell him about the war, not yet. You can tell him his services are required if you have to, but nothing more.

“I’ve prepared a spell that will allow you to understand him. It works both ways, so he can understand you too, though he won’t know how.”

Those had been the last words Raelin had heard for three hours. Jandar had showed her to the darkened room she now sat in. Guards were beyond the door, ready should there be a problem, but save for the figure on the bed, Raelin was alone in the room.

The light from the door was but a sliver. It struck the opposite wall, wasting its light, but enough was reflected to see by, and Raelin knew that she would be illuminated from behind when the figure woke.

She edged closer, curiosity driving her. As Jandar had said, the figure on the bed had no wings. He looked oddly short and stumpy without them, but she supposed he looked normal enough to his own kind, for he was no kyrie. Human, Jandar had called him.

Ignoring the absence of wings, the man actually looked quite handsome. He had short brown hair, and his face was peaceful in sleep. Raelin tilted her head, trying to see the man’s face straight on. She could tell he was powerfully built, but his face showed only an inner peace. Just watching it made Raelin herself feel calmer. Somehow, she knew that this human was made to command, but to command with peace and kindness, not pain. She felt she could trust that face, no matter what happened about her.

With a sudden intake of breath, the human sat bolt upright.

Raelin scrambled backwards, momentarily frightened.

The man glanced about him, light brown eyes flicking over Raelin and then on to the room, finally latching onto the door. Raelin knew what was about to happen a second before it did. 

“Wait!” she cried as the man leapt for the door. He skidded to a halt at the sound of her voice, looking at her warily.

“You’re not German?” the man asked. “You speak English perfectly. Who are you?”

Raelin had been prepared for terms which made no sense, but the question still caught her somewhat off guard. She had spoken Kyrien, the tongue of Valhalla. It seemed that Jandar’s enchantment worked better than she had anticipated. “I’m… I’m not German,” she faltered. “I’m a friend. Please, it’s all right. There are things I must tell you. Just stay here, and I’ll explain everything.”

The man remained where he was, ready to spring for the door in an instant. “Talk,” he said. His voice wasn’t rough, but it still carried a command with it.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Raelin asked, desperate to keep the man from opening the door. The shadows hid her wings, but if he saw the two guards outside now, she would have to do a lot more explaining than she wanted to all at once.

The man watched her steadily. “The foxhole. A German was about to throw a grenade. My men were in the way. What happened?”

Raelin took a deep breath, remembering what Jandar had told her. “The German did throw the grenade, and you leapt in front of it.”

The man looked at her blankly. “Then… why am I not dead?”

“You were saved,” said Raelin simply.

“By who? You?”

“No,” said Raelin, “I’m just here to explain the situation. Please, sit down. It will make everything a lot easier.” Raelin had her own reasons for wanting the man to sit down, not the least of which was that it would be a lot easier to hide her wings from him.

The man slowly made his way back to the bed and sat down. “Explain,” he said shortly. He didn’t raise his voice, and he wasn’t threatening, but again Raelin detected the inherent command in the word. She sat down as well.

“What happened to my injuries?” the man asked, feeling the bandages about his leg and arm. “I took several bullets in the assault, but the wounds feel like they’ve been cleaned. Is this a field hospital?”

“No,” said Raelin. “Our healers were busy, so I cleaned and bandaged your injuries. They should be fine until they can be healed.”

“Thank you,” said the man.

Raelin was caught off guard by the man’s tone. He was sincere. This strange creature, this man, didn’t know her in the least, but his thanks were heart-felt. She knew it. It took her a moment to recover what she had been saying.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “This is no field hospital. It is a fortress.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “A fortress? I suppose I’m still in France then.”

Raelin smiled. There was something about the man that she found reassuring. She felt at ease when he spoke. “Not exactly.”

“Where then? Britain? How long was I out for?”

“You’re far from France, Britain, or anywhere else you’ve ever been,” said Raelin. “You’re safe. I’ll tell you more in time, but that will have to suffice.”

The man held her gaze for a moment. “All right,” he finally said. “But you will tell me how I got here.”

“You were summoned an instant before you would have been slain.”

“By the grenade?”

“By the grenade. You wouldn’t understand how you were summoned, but you will be shown eventually. For now, you’re safe and your injuries will be healed soon. Rest, and I’ll tell you more when you wake.”

Drake eyed her. “All right,” he said, lying back down on the bed. “I have one last question though, and I want you to answer it. What are you? I’ve been trying to place you, but I can’t. Are you… Swedish? Norwegian maybe?”

Raelin smiled. “No. I am of Valhalla.”

“Valhalla… the name sounds familiar… like an island in the Pacific… no, maybe the Atlantic… I’m sure I’ve heard that name before somewhere…”

“You’ll find out where you are soon enough. Sleep now.”

“I’ll sleep, but first tell me your name. That might give me a hint where you come from.”

Raelin told him her name. “And what is yours?” she asked.

The man settled his head against the pillow. “Mine? My men call me Drake Alexander, but I prefer just Drake.”

Raelin smiled. “Sleep, Drake. I’ll tell you all when you wake.”

---

As it turned out, Drake was not told everything when he woke. He was not told how he had been summoned, though that knowledge would come soon enough. The largest truth that was kept from him, however, was the current situation. He was informed that he was needed, and that if he succeeded in the task that would be set him, he would be returned to his own land just after his death would have occurred.

Raelin spent the better part of two days in the darkened room with Drake. A healer tended to his injuries while he slept, and the bandages were removed. The uniform he had been summoned in was returned to him, cleaned and bullet-hole-free.

Not until the third day was a fire lit in the room. That was the day Drake saw Raelin’s wings. She explained that she was a kyrie, and that Valhalla was in fact a different planet than Earth. She told him how he had been summoned through a wellspring, a pool of water that held incredible magical powers. It took him some time to register the truth.

It was on the morning of the fourth day after he was summoned, that Drake was finally permitted out of his room. Raelin showed him Jandar’s castle, though they were always accompanied by a guard. He took an interest in everything that she said, but she could tell he was keeping his opinions to himself. He wasn’t learning. He was studying, the way a prisoner studies his cell for weaknesses. Only at the end of the day, when she had shown him everything, did she learn what he thought.

Their guard had been called on to perform some duty. Raelin had assured him she would be fine with Drake. No sooner had the guard turned the corner and vanished, however, than Raelin promptly realized two things.

Firstly, the hall they were in was dark and entirely empty. Not a soul was in sight, and it was unlikely that any would venture this way for some time. The second thing Raelin noticed was Drake. He was leaning casually against the wall; but while his posture was relaxed, she realized that he was far closer than normal. Close enough to prevent her from escaping if he wanted to.

She looked at him, momentarily frightened. However, his face was calm, reassuring. He meant her no harm.

“Raelin,” he said, “what is going on?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, slowly edging away from him nonetheless.

“Everyone I see, all these kyrie, are outfitted for war. And the Vikings – they aren’t exactly known as great peace-lovers. Everyone here is wearing armor, and all of the kyrie carry weapons. You told me I’m in a fortress, and I believe you after what you’ve shown me. You said you would tell me soon enough what is going on. Well, I’ve waited. Now I want to know.”

Raelin looked at him. Jandar had ordered her not to tell him about the war yet, but she couldn’t keep him in the dark forever. Drake could be very persuasive. His voice alone carried a command that was not easily ignored. He knew enough by now. Jandar would surely tell him soon anyway. She could do no harm by telling him the basics.

“We’re at war,” she said. “We’ve been at war for years, far more years than I care to know of. Jandar’s army is large, but our enemy’s army is larger. Some say it is infinite. We can’t prevail against such odds, so Jandar has summoned soldiers, like you, to fight for him. That’s why you have been summoned, Drake.”

“I see,” Drake was silent for a moment as he contemplated the stone floor. He crossed his arms and looked at her. “And did you or this Jandar give any thought to my war? To my life?”

“I’m sure he—”

“I’m needed on Earth, Raelin,” Drake interrupted. “I belong there, in my own time, defending my own country. That’s what is important. I don’t just fight for anyone who wants me to. I fight for what I believe in, for what I consider worth fighting for.”

“So do I,” said Raelin, some indignation at Drake’s tone coloring her voice. “That’s why I joined this war: to fight for what I believe in. The only reason I joined this war was to defend what I thought worth defending.”

“I’m sorry, Raelin,” said Drake quietly. “I didn’t mean to imply that—”

Raelin didn’t let him finish. “You’ve been lucky enough to get a chance to do some good in the world, Drake. Now you have a chance to do good in two.”

“Raelin,” said Drake slowly, “I must—”

The walls shook. The floor trembled. Raelin lurched against the wall and felt Drake’s steadying hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on?” asked Drake.

Before Raelin could reply, a terrible voice, louder than the pounding of a waterfall, reverberated throughout the hallway, seeming to come from the walls themselves.

“Your time has come! Jandar, I call on you to surrender to me! Meet upon your eastern-most tower to discuss your terms.”

“What—”

Raelin grabbed Drake by the hand and ran down the hall. She had never heard that voice before, but she had a good idea who it was. Fortunately, the east tower was close by.

They were joined quickly by other soldiers, and together they raced up tightly spiraling staircases until they emerged on one of the few towers that soared above the mountaintop.

Despite the fact that it was summer, the air was bitterly cold and clear, the stars shining brightly overhead. One of the reasons Jandar had built his castle so high up was because even the birds couldn’t fly this high. Kyrie could, but they arrived exhausted, incapable of fighting without a rest. The air was thin, nearly too thin to support a kyrie, and snow often hid the castle from view when the forbidding banks of clouds did not. At the moment however, neither snow nor cloud impeded the view. Both were below the castle, the clouds rolling out from the lowest tower in an unbroken gray mass, billowing away for miles. The castle was isolated in the clear night sky.

Arrayed below the tower was a small force of southern kyrie. Their red skin gleamed in the moonlight with frozen sweat, and they breathed heavily, desperately trying to catch their breath after the exhausting flight. Many of them were shivering. Raelin knew they were bloodthirsty warriors, but at the moment, they didn’t look too threatening. The only one of them who did, she knew by reputation instantly.

Utgar was gigantic. He stood nearly eight feet tall, which was large even for a kyrie. He was massively built, and the gigantic furred cape that shrouded his figure only served to make him seem larger. The hilt of a massive axe jutted out from within the folds.

“Surrender, Jandar!” he thundered up to the tower. His voice shattered the silence.

“Why?” responded Jandar. Craning her neck, Raelin saw that he stood closest to the wall, gazing down at Utgar. “We’ve been at war for decades, and if the reports are true, my forces just decimated yours at Varenheim. I’m not about to surrender now.”

Utgar laughed. It was a terrible sound. Raelin shuttered listening to it. “You overestimate your power, Jandar. You know you cannot win. Even now, a plan is in motion that will forever cripple your forces. Surrender now, and avoid the bloodshed. Surrender now, or I will kill every last man, woman, and child within your walls, until the land runs red with your blood.”

Utgar spoke slowly, relishing each word. His gaze swept the wall as he spoke, and for a very brief moment, Raelin stared into his merciless eyes. Raelin found herself shaking as she watched him, not with cold she realized, but with anger. No, fury. This was the kyrie that had killed her father. This was the kyrie that had caused her mother to wither away before her. This was the kyrie that had taken Kelda’s father, and had caused Kelda herself so much pain. And yet he dared to stand there, defiant against the cold, and speak of blood and killing in such a soft voice. Such a loving voice.

“No!” Jandar thundered back. “You deprive Valhalla of its life! You burn and bring chaos where once there was peace. You may have the advantage now, Utgar, but I will not let you pass simply because of that! You are evil, Utgar, and I will always stand in your way!”

“So be it,” Utgar shouted back. He uttered three words a harsh tongue. The wind picked up.

Raelin expected something to happen. All that happened, however, was that Utgar and Jandar stood still, stubbornly staring into each other’s eyes. And then Utgar began to grin. Raelin knew they were missing something, knew that Utgar had done something Jandar didn’t know about. But she couldn’t see what.

“Look out!” Drake yelled from beside Raelin. She jumped, whirling around, but Drake had already dived to the side, surging towards Jandar. He wrenched a sword from a surprised guard as he did so, and lifted it high above his head. It looked for all the world like he was about to cleave Jandar from head to foot.

And then, quite suddenly, the sword seemed to draw a minion of Utgar from thin air. The red kyrie slumped on the sword, the tip bursting through his back, and Drake fell under the weight. Jandar looked up.

“Above you!” he thundered.

Raelin looked up. At least ten red-skinned kyrie were diving towards them, most angling towards Jandar, but some towards other soldiers. One, seeing her, changed his trajectory and came falling right at her.

Raelin watched the minion approach blankly. She had no weapon. The Spear of Gerda was stowed safely in her quarters. She had not expected to use it here, in the castle. She could likely out-fly the minion, but her wings seemed frozen to her sides.

“AAHHH!” Drake crashed into the minion just as the tip of his axe nicked Raelin’s cheek. She fell back as Drake rolled dangerously close to the battlements, and for a moment she again saw Mallidon wrestling with the minion. And then her mind jolted into action.

She leapt forwards and kicked the minion in the side. The kyrie curled up in pain briefly, and Drake drove his sword cleanly through him, quickly hurtling him off of the battlements and into the clouds below.

The rest of the minions were dealt with quickly. A few wounds were sustained, but only four looked serious. In the attack, Utgar and his remaining kyrie had fled.

Jandar flew to Raelin’s side. He had a cut in one arm, but it didn’t look deep. “Raelin,” he said, a note of urgency in his voice, “I need you to get these men down to the healers. Bandage up the ones that look serious, and then get them to the infirmary. If what Utgar said is true, he means to strike a blow against us. I have to put my men on the alert.”

Raelin barely had time to nod before Jandar was gone. She quickly herded the injured kyrie and Vikings into the tower. Drake slumped against the wall once he got inside. A deep cut ran the length of his shoulder, and he cradled his arm gingerly. A Viking had been stabbed cleanly through, and was losing a lot of blood. The other two injuries were too grisly to relate. With the help of the uninjured, Raelin bandaged those four, somehow ending up with Drake. He stared calmly at the wall while she tightened the bandage.

“Thank you,” Raelin said quietly while she worked.

Drake looked down.

“For saving me,” Raelin explained. “I froze back there. I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s normal,” said Drake. “You’ll get past it after the first battle. And besides, I’ll help you.”

“You’ll help me?” repeated Raelin, temporarily pausing.

“You’re right, Raelin,” Drake said. “I’ve been given a chance to do good in two worlds. I’d be a fool not to take it. You can tell Jandar I’ll join his war.”

Utgar watched his daughter with pride. She stood before him, straight as a sword, but not stiff. She was lithe, graceful, her beautiful frame flowing about her, her long black hair forming her face to perfection. It was dark, the room lit only by two braziers crackling with flame. Their light gleamed across her body, shining with sweat. She still breathed heavily beneath her leather armor.

“Taelord!” Utgar’s voice snapped the silence in two like a flash of lightning and thunder. He was pleased to see that his daughter did not flinch. She was strong. She was fitting.

A massive kyrie entered the dark throne room. He bowed low to Utgar, his dark leathery wings briefly enveloping him. “My lord,” he said, falling to one knee. He didn’t mutter or purr like the others. His voice was full, powerful, betraying a sharp mind. He was Utgar’s most trusted lieutenant.

Utgar sat back in his throne, surveying the two side by side. He smiled in the darkness. “Taelord, you work my daughter too hard.” His voice was quiet, almost playful.

“Your daughter surpasses all of my men, my lord. I train her abilities further than theirs.”

Utgar’s smile widened. “Your choice is wise. Do you find her a fitting soldier?”

A pause. “Far beyond. She attacks with a grace and thirst for blood none of us can surpass. Her blades are but blurs to our eyes. None can harm her on the field. Even I find her to be…” Taelord halted.

“Find her to be what, dear Taelord?” prompted Utgar, silent laughter in his voice.

Taelord stood rigid, eyes fixed on a point somewhere above Utgar. “I find her to be a kyrie like no other, my lord. I find her to be your daughter, and worthy of all the fear you command.”

“And loyalty, I hope,” added Utgar quietly.

“Of course, my lord,” said Taelord. “My loyalty for you is matched only by my loyalty to your daughter.” Taelord stopped abruptly, realizing he had said too much.

Utgar only chuckled. “It is but natural to follow my daughter, Taelord. Do not be ashamed. I consider it an honor that she commands such a heart as yours.”

He sat back, observing the two outlined against the fires. “And what say you, my daughter? You are untested. You have yet to face the alliance on the field of battle; you have yet to feel the chaos of war.” Utgar purred the last word out, relishing its sound. “Are you ready?”

“My lord, I was ready to fight the moment I entered this world. I was ready to fight the moment my mother was slain by Jandar. I was ready to fight the moment I touched a sword. Show me where the alliance lies, and I shall strike them such a blow that they shall never recover. Their weakness shall be so great that we shall smite their ruin upon the land, and take Valhalla as rightfully ours.”

“And you, Taelord? Do you agree that she is ready?”

“I… yes, my lord. What she says is true.”

“You hesitate.”

Silence.

“Do you perhaps think of my daughter as more than a soldier, Taelord?”

“Perhaps, my lord Utgar. But she is nonetheless ready.”

Utgar smiled to himself in the shadow and smoke. He knew Taelord had feelings for his daughter. Feelings that could prove useful. But for now, he would let them pass.

“Taelord, you are to select a small force of kyrie to accompany me. I wish to remain unnoticed. I go north. In the meantime, you will take my daughter and a regiment of your best troops, and search the swamps to the South.”

“For what am I to search, my lord?” said Taelord.

Utgar smiled to himself. “A clearing surrounded by the densest jungle. A perfect place to raise an army the likes of which Valhalla has never seen. When you have found such a place, report back here and await my return. If my mission is unsuccessful, as I believe it shall be, I will have a new mission for the two of you, one which will cripple the alliance before this new war even begins.

“Taelord,” Utgar added as the two kyrie turned to leave. “Keep her safe. Come back with my daughter. Come back with my Runa.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Raelin watched, transfixed. She had dreamt of meeting Jandar, hero of the alliance, savior of Nastralund. She had not expected to meet him while he pulled Kelda from the twilight of death.

Now that Jandar was before her, she had eyes only for Kelda. She was so delicate, and she had lost so much blood…

Blue light flared from Jandar’s palm again, sparking against Kelda’s injured shoulder. As Raelin watched, the wound softened, the color fading. The edges became clean, and slowly began to flow back together seamlessly. But the wound seemed reluctant to heal all the way. Jandar’s magic faded, and the blood began to flow again.

Jandar rocked back from where he knelt beside Kelda’s bed. He gasped for air, sweat drenching his brow.

“What’s wrong?” asked Raelin.

“Healing was never my strength. The axe went deep and severed some crucial muscles. And even if I could heal her, she’s lost a lot of blood. Maybe too much.”

“Surely you can do something?” Raelin couldn’t quite believe that Jandar, leader of the alliance, found it difficult to heal a small kyrie girl.

Jandar swept long brown hair from his forehead. It was sticky and matted with sweat. Even his wings, powerful and sheathed in white feathers, seemed to wilt somewhat. He studied Kelda for a minute. “Time is of the essence, and I don’t trust my ability to save her. There is… something that might cure her, however.”

Raelin glanced at Mallidon. He hadn’t stirred from Kelda’s side since the sentinels carried her into the stronghold at Varenheim. He had said not a word, but continued to watch her, his eyes never leaving her still form. All the color seemed to be slowly draining from his face with each passing moment.

Jandar stood. Cupping his hands, he conjured a swirling purple light. The center of the light darkened until something small came into view, spinning almost too fast to be possible. The light faded, and Jandar caught the small object: a vial containing what appeared to be clear water.

He turned to Raelin. “I can heal Kelda with these waters, but it will come at a price. You will know why soon enough. For now, know only that she will have to stay at my castle, further north. You and your brother may stay with her, but she will not be permitted beyond its walls.”

Raelin nodded. Kelda might not like being shut up, but she would be safe from the war. Jandar’s castle was said to be impregnable.

Jandar stooped over Kelda, gently opening her mouth. He pulled the stop from the vial, poured the water slowly down her throat, and then stepped back.

Nothing whatsoever happened.

And then, with a terrible rattling, gasping breath, Kelda awoke. She sat bolt upright, opened her mouth as if she were about to scream, and then, quite suddenly, slumped back down on the bed. Mallidon stood still, as if transfixed.

Raelin flew to her side. Even as she did so, she noted that Kelda’s wound was healing. The skin was rippling, almost like water, and from the way the skin was bunching and relaxing, Raelin guessed muscles were being reknit as well.

Kelda lay still upon her bed. Her mouth was tight shut, but her eyes were wide open, and they sought Raelin’s feverishly. Raelin had only to look into those eyes to see how much pain Kelda was in. The pain of the injury had been insignificant compared to the pain of healing, but no cry escaped Kelda’s lips.

It took a full ten minutes for Kelda to be healed. During that time, there was little anyone could do but watch. Kelda never let on how much pain she was in, but Raelin could see it intensify, and then slowly, so slowly, diminish. At last, Kelda gave a subdued sigh, and slipped into unconsciousness. Her wound was gone, as if it had never been.

After a moment, Mallidon stirred from his stupor. He was still covered in blood, though most of it was not his own. Ignoring his own injuries, he turned and knelt to Jandar. Raelin saw that as he did so, his shoulders shook, not with tears, she realized, but with anger. “You are the leader of the alliance, commander of its forces. If you can assure that I will face those responsible for the pain I have witnessed, I pledge my service to you, until the armies of the south are laid to waste, and I present Utgar’s head to you on the point of my sword.”

Jandar, after a hesitant pause, placed his hands on Mallidon’s shoulders, and raised him to his feet. “I accept,” he said gravely. “But I do not require service. I require will, a desire to win this war and fight for what is right. I swore long ago to bring Utgar to justice for the atrocities he has committed. If you will aid me in this endeavor, I will accept your sword gladly.”

A flame seemed to have kindled in Mallidon’s eyes. He returned Jandar’s steely gaze. “My sword is yours,” he said. “Use it to exact my revenge.”

---

It took three days for Kelda to regain her strength. Jandar remained silent on how he had healed her, though he maintained that Raelin would find out soon enough. Mallidon, having convinced himself that Kelda would recover quickly, was dispatched to join a force in the West. Raelin had felt an emotion she couldn’t quite identify as he took off with his battalion of kyrie, arrayed in white and blue and carrying his new war-hammer. Had it been jealousy? Perhaps, but there had been something else… a strange urge to pull him from the sky and keep him at Kelda’s side.

On the third day, the garrison at Varenheim prepared to empty. They were isolated, and Jandar’s castle provided far better protection against Utgar’s legions. In the morning, Kelda was declared fully recovered. To Raelin’s surprise, one of the first things she did was go to Jandar and swear fealty to him. She said that it was repayment for saving her life, but Raelin felt there was more to the reason than that. She had no chance to find out what it was, however, for Jandar caught up with her in the halls moments later.

“Kelda will not need to stay at my castle,” he said, falling in beside her.

Raelin looked up, surprised.

“You might as well know the truth, Raelin. My castle was constructed to hide and guard something, something extremely powerful. It’s called a wellspring. It looks like an ordinary pool of still water, but it holds tremendous magic. Once you drink from it, you can control that magic.”

“That’s what you gave Kelda,” Raelin guessed. “Wellspring water.”

“Yes,” said Jandar. “It heals the drinker, though the magic it imparts aside from that seems to change with the individual. Kelda, for instance, seems to be able to heal minor injuries with naught but a touch.” Jandar looked into the distance. “If her ability grows, she could save many on the battlefield…”

Raelin stopped. “The battlefield? Jandar, you promised she would be kept at your castle.”

“I said that because her abilities could make her a target. Now that I know she can heal, she is far too valuable to be kept isolated.” Jandar’s voice softened. “I would never have forced her into combat, Raelin. She agreed herself.”

“Then I will change her mind,” said Raelin, determination in her voice. She continued to walk. “I’m sorry, Jandar, but Kelda cannot be a part of this war.”

Silence fell between them for a space. Finally, Jandar spoke.

“Kelda was lucky. She is not the first injured kyrie I have tried to heal.”

Raelin glanced at him. Jandar had saved Kelda’s life, and she trusted him because of that. However, three days had shown her that he meant business. He never said anything without a reason. She was therefore wary of his words.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Jandar didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, and while he continued to walk along without slowing his pace, there was hardness in his voice. “My daughter was claimed by Utgar’s advance through Bleakwood long ago. My wife tried to defend her, and the hordes took her too. I arrived too late. They had been tortured within an inch of their life. Utgar knew their connection to me, and knew that they must possess secrets.

“They didn’t. I hadn’t confided in them so that they wouldn’t be a target. It seems it didn’t work.” Jandar swallowed. “I tried to heal them, but I lacked the power to do so. They died in my arms, one after the other.

“I might have been able to heal Kelda, but after that day, I lost faith in myself. I couldn’t save my family. I tried with all my might, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. That’s the way this war has been. A small victory here, an advance there, but in the end, Utgar just marches ahead, sweeping my forces before him.” Jandar stopped and faced Raelin. “That’s why I need people like Kelda, Raelin. We both know there is more to her reason for joining me. I don’t know what it is, and neither do I need to. All I know is that she is determined. She will see this war through to the end. Those are the kinds of soldiers that I need. This war needs morale, something I can’t always provide. Kelda can. Mallidon can. And if your spear is half as powerful as you said, it can too.”

So that was it. Raelin looked up into Jandar’s clear eyes. He was determined. He was very determined, but in the end, he didn’t believe he could win. He knew that, and nothing could change it. He needed soldiers who did believe they could win.

“This war has to end, Raelin. I swore to bring Utgar to justice, to win this conflict. I need your spear. I won’t ask you to join me. You’ve already lost your parents to the war, and Kelda has lost her father. But I need your spear.”

Raknar, Kelda’s father, had never been found after the attack. The village had been burned to the ground, the White River dyed red with blood. It was said that still, three days later, its waters remained crimson. The worst had been assumed, and Raknar had been buried with the rest of the undistinguishable mangled corpses.

Raelin was silent.

“Please, Raelin,” Jandar said, a note of pleading entering his voice. Determined pleading, but pleading all the same. “Think of the lives that could be saved. Think of the pain that could be averted. Remember Kelda. With your spear protecting my men, countless soldiers could go the entire war and never experience such a thing as she did.”

Raelin didn’t need to remember Kelda’s pain. It was all she thought about. Every waking hour it passed before her eyes, the tightness of Kelda’s mouth as she silently endured the pain. Every night, Kelda’s screams echoed in her nightmares. She couldn’t rid herself of the images. She had to make them stop. She looked up at Jandar.

“I go where my spear does,” she said firmly. “But,” she added as Jandar frowned, “if you will promise to end the suffering of the war, the hurt, the pain… then I will join you, and wield the spear myself.”

Jandar looked at her for a moment, surprise on his face. Then he knelt on one knee before her, and took her hands in his.

“On the graves of the ones I love, I swear to you that I will do all within my power to end the war, and all the bloodshed it causes. I accept your spear, Raelin, and I pray that you will use it to save my soldiers from any injury.”

Raelin nodded slowly. “I will,” she promised.

Jandar stood. “I will send word to have armor made for you. You must go with me to my castle, where you will be outfitted, but from there, your spear will see action.”

Raelin felt some of the blood drain from her face. She was ashamed of it. This was what she had always wanted: a chance to fight. What was wrong with her?

Jandar turned and hastened back the way he had come, leaving Raelin alone in the hall. She didn’t move for nearly a minute. She was a soldier. A warrior in Jandar’s army. Raknar would have forced her to resign had he known. But he didn’t know. He couldn’t, and he was part of the reason why she had joined. She wanted vengeance. She wanted to strike a blow against Utgar. But she also wanted to stop the war, the pain. She turned and hurried down the hall, in search of Kelda.

She found her not long after, getting ready for departure with the rest of the garrison. She was packing slowly, hesitantly, but Raelin could sense a determination in her movements.

“How are you feeling?” asked Raelin as she approached.

Kelda looked up, and then shrugged. “It still twinges a bit, but it gets better every day. Those waters Jandar gave me did something strange. Sometimes I feel like I could topple a mountain, other times I’m weak with exhaustion. And I have the strangest dreams at night. But I’m healed, and I suppose that’s all that matters.”

“No, Kelda,” said Raelin forcibly, “that’s not all that matters. Why did you swear to serve Jandar? I already lost Mallidon. I can’t lose you too.”

“He healed me,” Kelda said simply. “It was a debt that had to be paid. Besides, I thought you approved of joining the war.”

“Yes, but not you. Never you.”

Kelda said nothing.

Raelin sat down beside her. “Kelda,” she said quietly, “I know what the world holds. You know I do. It… It took my parents from me, and I know the pain it holds. That’s all that awaits you, Kelda: more pain. The world is merciless. It doesn’t care who it harms. And I can’t let it hurt you, Kelda. I just can’t.”

Kelda had stopped packing, though she didn’t look at Raelin.

Raelin struggled for words. She had to convince Kelda. “I love you too much, Kelda. Please… don’t make me lose you too. Don’t go.”

“I have to,” said Kelda quietly. “No, listen,” she said as Raelin opened her mouth to protest. “The night of the raid, when I was injured, I looked around, and all I saw was blood. Blood and chaos. I was afraid, Raelin. Desperately afraid. I wanted someone, something, to comfort me. I wanted to know that it would be all right. But everyone was just as frightened as I was. There was nothing there. 

“If I can be there… be there when people need me… maybe they won’t be afraid. Maybe they’ll see me, and if I can be calm for them… maybe I can be there for myself too. Maybe I’ll stop seeing the blood.” She looked at Raelin. “I have to go. I don’t want to, but I have to… for others.”

Raelin knew she couldn’t change Kelda’s mind. If Kelda had one strength, it was not backing down. “When will I see you again?” she asked.

There were tears in Kelda’s eyes. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Jandar said it could be a long while.” 

Raelin sat back. So this was how things would fall into place. Raknar had spent his whole life doggedly keeping his family from danger. More than once, Mallidon had insisted on joining the army, accompanied at least half the time by Raelin, and every time, he had stood in their way. And now, despite everything, she, Mallidon, and even Kelda, were part of the war, part of the bloodshed. It would be a miracle if any of them survived its unforgiving path.

Raelin woke suddenly. The instant she opened her eyes, she knew something was wrong.

An orange light stuttered across the bare wall, fading in and out of the shadows. Raelin’s first thought was of fires, like the ones they had used to sit around after dark, laughing and telling stories. But this was different. There was something sinister about this light. Something dangerous.

Raelin’s second thought was of Kelda. She turned, and saw that the bed was empty. Kelda was gone. And then the noise reached her. Shouts echoed in the streets below. Cries of fright mingled with them, lending their panicked tones to the night. One voice, much closer than the others, suddenly bellowed directly below her window.

“Look out!”

An instant later, a dark shape flew into the bedroom and tackled Raelin to the floor. In almost the same second, the far wall burst into angry flames.

The dark shape proved to be Mallidon. He leapt up, pulling Raelin with him.

“We have to get out!” he yelled above the roar of the flames. “Now!”

“Where’s Kelda?” Raelin half-shouted back.

“She’s fine,” Mallidon said, almost dragging her from the room.

Raelin got her feet under her as they exited the bedroom. The hallway was on fire. “What’s going on?” she asked, blinded by the sudden flickering light.

“No time to explain,” said Mallidon as another portion of the hall caught fire. “You have to get out.” He shoved Raelin off the edge of the hall, into black smoky air.

Raelin hit the bottom floor a moment later, somehow landing on her feet. More flames licked at the walls. No one was in sight. “Mallidon?” she called uncertainly. No sound came from the bedrooms upstairs. Cries continued to sound outside.

The front door was ajar, and Raelin went to it slowly, looking about her. Everything was dark. She could barely see where she was going by the insubstantial light of the flames. Her foot knocked into something hard, and she stooped to see what it was.

The Spear of Gerda glittered with a faint blue light all its own. Raelin snatched it from the floor – no fire would consume such an heirloom.

“Raelin!” Raknar burst through the door. It fell off of its burning hinges and crumbled to the ground. “Quickly! You have to get out. Where’s Mallidon?”

“I don’t know. He was upstairs. What’s going on?”

Raknar did not reply, but leapt to the air, flying for the burning bedrooms.

“Wait!” cried Raelin. “Where’s Kelda?”

“I’m right here,” said Kelda’s quiet voice from beyond the doorway. Raelin rushed through it, and then staggered backwards as she saw the village.

Several houses were burning. Kyrie were running in the streets, casting fearful glances behind them, or simply standing rooted to the spot, either with fear or confusion, Raelin could not tell. Some kyrie were mercilessly trying to break into their own homes through the burning debris, calling the names of their children with increasing urgency. Dark shapes rocketed through the sky overhead, their forms hidden by the black smoke that covered everything. Panic was everywhere.

“Raelin! Fly!”

Kelda shrieked. Raelin turned, instinctively diving for Kelda. She managed to shove her out of the way, and a moment later, something large, heavy, and covered in sweat rammed into her.

Raelin was flung at least three feet before slamming painfully into the ground. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. She could barely think. All she knew was that a terrible weight was pressing down on her. And then Mallidon let lose an angry cry, and the weight was gone.

It took Raelin a few seconds to regain her senses. She sat up groggily, not quite taking in the scene about her, still gasping for breath. What was going on?

“Mallidon!” Kelda screamed. “Look out!”

Raelin had never heard Kelda scream. She instantly knew it was something she never wanted to hear again. She forced her mind to snap back into action, and stumbled to her feet.

Mallidon was rolling about on the ground beside her. Raelin turned for a closer look, and leapt back, a cry of fright escaping her lips. Mallidon was wrestling another kyrie, but this kyrie had black leathery wings. His red skin glistened with sweat. His ugly face was twisted into a snarl. His powerful arms were wrapped about Mallidon, rapidly choking the life from him as they struggled in the dust. The kyrie was a minion, a minion of Utgar.

Mallidon was slowly turning blue. Raelin, without quite thinking, leapt forward and swung her fist with all her might into the minion’s face. She felt his nose break, and her own knuckles crack. She fell back with a cry of pain, even as Mallidon slammed his head into that of the minion. The minion released his grip. Mallidon rolled over in an instant, and began furiously punching the minion. Blood soon splattered the ground.

“Stop! Mallidon, stop!” Tears were streaming down Kelda’s face. She seemed incapable of moving from where she stood. Raelin saw that she was shaking terribly.

Mallidon staggered backwards from the body. Raelin couldn’t tell if the minion was dead or unconscious, and she couldn’t bring herself to find out. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Attack,” Mallidon grunted. He wiped some blood from his mouth, still staring at the minion. He looked at his bloodied hands, and then back at the minion, as if not quite understanding what had just happened.

“Did you… Is he…?” Kelda stammered, eyes fixed on the unmoving southern kyrie.

Mallidon stepped forward and felt the minion’s neck. “Dead,” he said, stepping back. “Dead by me.”

As Raelin watched, a horrible slow grin began to spread across Mallidon’s face, illuminated ominously by the firelight. “Dead by me,” he repeated, his eyes glittering.

“Mallidon—”

“NO!”

Kelda let out a piercing scream, a scream which was abruptly cut short as another minion flew by, swinging his axe low. The axe cut deep into Kelda’s shoulder, and she promptly dropped to the ground, limp and white.

Mallidon turned, and in one fluid motion, reached up, grabbed the minion, and flung him to the ground. His eyes ignited with a deadly rage, and he leapt at the minion, beating him back as he struggled to get to his feet.  

Raknar arrived on the scene, flying to his daughter and bending over her. Raelin stood between the two, looking from one to the other. She finally went for Mallidon.

As it happened, Mallidon had long since killed the minion. Blood was spattered across them both, and his terrible grin was wider. There was something wrong with the grin. It seemed fixed, like it couldn’t be removed. Mallidon flew to Kelda, the unnatural grin still in place.

“Go!” Raknar shouted as they approached. He lifted Kelda and gently placed her in Mallidon’s arms. “Quickly! Take her to the garrison at Varenheim! I’ll be right behind you.”

Mallidon hesitated.

“Go!” Raknar thundered. “The village is overrun. You must escape. Go now, before the —”

An axe sailed cleanly into his gut. Raelin screamed. Kelda’s father, ignoring the axe, turned and slammed his fist into the approaching minion. The kyrie fell to the ground, his head snapped back. “Go!”

Mallidon grabbed Raelin before she could do anything. She grabbed the Spear of Gerda from the ground, and supported Kelda, who she saw was still awake, though bleeding freely. In a single bound, they leapt to the sky, laboring to the roof of their burning house. A minion was waiting for them.

Mallidon lunged at him, silent and deadly through the flames, and knocked him cleanly off of the roof. Most unfortunately, he landed in a pile of two more minions, both of whom immediately set upon him.

“Go!” he yelled at Raelin, as she wavered on the edge of the roof. “I’ll be fine!” This statement was punctuated by a terrible cracking from the area of his ribcage.

Kelda slipped. Raelin tightened her grasp, and jumped for the night. She was immediately assaulted by smoke. The air seemed too thin to support her. It had only been yesterday that flying had seemed so effortless, so carefree… now she labored through dark air, Kelda’s blood coating her hands, coughing on the smoke that she inhaled. She couldn’t see. She could barely hear. The smell of fire blotted out everything else. And then Kelda screamed again.

Raelin turned just in time to see the minion ascending to catch them.  Without thinking, she turned, and swung the spear into him. The tip caught him in the shoulder, and bit deep. A shudder seemed to run down the spear, and Raelin wrenched it free.

The minion lost some altitude. His wings shuddered, and then he dropped, quickly hidden by the smoke. Raelin stared blankly at the blood on the head of the spear, slowly dripping onto her arm. Blood for my father, she thought. Vengeance has begun.

At that moment, one of the houses collapsed. The smoke quickly invaded the new air, clearing a patch just below Raelin and Kelda, affording them an unobstructed view of Mallidon. He was fighting six minions by now. Two lay dead at his feet. Blood streamed down his arms and was splashed across his chest and face, until he was as red as his adversaries. Several deep gashes only added to the hideous color. He bellowed fiercely with each blow, but it was easy to see that he was losing ground. He took more hits than he delivered, and the fact that the minions had axes while he had naught but his two fists did not help.

Raelin wavered between escaping and staying. Should she save Mallidon or Kelda? She definitely couldn’t save both. Kelda was losing too much blood. As she teetered in indecision, the spear in her hands vibrated, and the tip suddenly shone with a blue light. Raelin looked at it apprehensively, but fortunately did not drop it. A moment later, a bubble of blue light exploded outwards from the tip of the spear, extending to encase Mallidon.

As she watched, an axe, aimed for Mallidon’s head, bounced harmlessly off of the blue light. Mallidon looked momentarily confused, and then delivered an uppercut to the minion. Another blow aimed for his heart was warded off by the strange force field. Mallidon leveled that minion as well. Raelin looked at the spear in her hands, glowing brightly. Perhaps part of Gerda was in the spear after all, watching over them, just as she had always imagined.

During this time, dawn had broken. The horizon had gone from gray to golden, and faint rays of light were now beginning to illuminate the burning village. The soft light struck the nearby river, the waters that had once been so white and pure. Raelin, seeing it briefly, saw that they were now red with blood.

“For Jandar! For the alliance!”

“Send these fiends back to the fires from whence they came!”

“Attack!”

Kyrie rushed past Raelin. These kyrie were no minions. Their wings were white and covered in feathers. They wore blue armor, and carried heavy hammers. They were sentinels, kyrie of Jandar’s army, dispatched from Varenheim. A squad of them landed on the minions about Mallidon, and quickly dispatched them. Other fights were similarly dealt with.

At that moment, Kelda slipped in Raelin’s grasp. Her eyelids fluttered. Raelin dropped a few feet in the air, but managed to catch her. She glanced at Kelda’s face. It was terribly white, and a shiver ran through her small frame.

“No. Kelda, no! Stay with me!”

Raelin had never wanted so badly to disagree with someone. Normally it would have been an easy decision, something she had always wanted. But now… now…

Raelin couldn’t stand it. She had to see again, to understand, to try to resolve the battle within her. She rolled over.

The bed she lay on was large enough for two. Facing her, her breathing steady with sleep, was Kelda. Her face was creased with a frown, and her eyes tight shut, as if she hoped to escape into sleep.

Escape what, Kelda? Raelin thought. Fate? You can’t escape fate. I’ve known this would come for a long time. I wanted it to come. Ever since…

Raelin closed her eyes, trying to purge the thought from her mind. If she could forget it, she wouldn’t have to face it. She opened them again. There was Kelda, still clutching the sheet in her slackened grip, curled up, her face still wearing that same expression. It filled Raelin with sympathy just looking at her. Raelin wanted so much to wake Kelda, to hug her, to comfort her, to tell her everything would be all right. But what would she say? She wasn’t like Kelda. She wanted this to happen. She had for years.

Raelin slid softly from the bed, her feet making no noise as they struck the soft earth floor. She dressed quickly, silently, and then turned to face Kelda once more. She still slept. Her mouth twitched downwards, her frown deepening in some fold of a dream.

The covers had become tangled in the night. Raelin crept softly around to the other side of the bed, and gently smoothed them back over Kelda. Kelda sighed in her sleep, the sound soft, delicate; but her saddened frown remained. Raelin could look at the expression no longer. She turned, and silently left the room.

Raelin’s home was small and simple. It was a place to eat at, sleep in, and stay warm during the winter, and not much else. And neither did it need to be. Kyrie were creatures of the air; they were not made to stay inside.

It was a short drop from the bedrooms to the larger main room below. Raelin opened her wings just enough to slow her descent slightly, and leapt gracefully from the hallway, landing with her legs bent. Such a thing as stairs were rarely seen or needed in kyrie homes.

Raelin could practically feel the fresh air calling to her from beyond the door, and furled her wings a bit too fast. The tip of one knocked something hard. Raelin managed to catch the object before it struck the floor, and squinted at it in the half light.

A blue glimmer caught her eye. She felt smooth wood beneath her fingers, gold filigree dancing and swaying along it. Thin strips of metal decorated the shaft, flowing up it, until they whirled and finally ended in the rough-hewn head of a spear. The Spear of Gerda.

Raelin cradled the ancient heirloom, and reverently replaced it on the wall. The spear had been in her family for six generations, and had once belonged to the great healer Gerda, head of her line. It was nothing more than an ornate spear, but Raelin liked to think that something of Gerda resided in it, and that she was watching over them, night and day.

Being more careful, Raelin turned and eased open the door, drinking in the fresh spring air that washed over her. It smelled of damp earth, young sunlight, and rippling waters. A smile stole onto Raelin’s face, and she stepped into the first rays of dawn, closing the door behind her.

The village was small, and it was but a short distance to the gate. The entire village was walled in with wooden posts, but the gate was the most formidable of all. Taller than the wall, and hewn from rough, thorny tree trunks, it stood black and threatening against the dancing rays of the new sun. Raelin eased the smaller gate within it open, and squirmed through, her slight frame aiding her endeavor. She sighed as she closed the small gate. There had been a time when the village was open to the new day, and walls were far from imagination or need.

Raelin put the gate behind her and tried to focus on the greenness before her. Grass and trees burst with verdant color, outlined against the deep, still somewhat dark blue of the sky, studded with the occasional high wisp of a cloud. Raelin breathed in the clean air, allowing the newness of the day to fill her, and started down the gradual slope.

A cool breeze played in the trees, dancing among the boughs of firs, but more often threading its way through birches and young maples. Raelin wound her way around the trees until the slope dipped, and suddenly gave way to a stream.

Raelin knelt at the bank and dipped her hand in the stream, letting the water rush by her fingers. The ‘stream’ was actually more of a small river, for it widened out further north; but here it was thinner, deep enough to allow swimming, and too shallow to afford any danger of drowning. (It must be said that while kyrie enjoyed swimming, they were not the best at it. Try swimming with wings and you’ll see why.)

Raelin looked up. The air beckoned to her, already alive with birds, growing lighter by the minute. The sun had already broken the horizon, but here, under the trees, it was still quite dark.

Raelin stood, her wings unfurling as she did so. Kyrie could actually make their wings quite small, but they rarely had occasion to. Raelin’s wings were things of beauty, flowing from her shoulders to gracefully arc above her head. The joints softly curved, and then the rest of the wing swept down, nearly to the ground, its silver-white feathers almost gleaming in the half darkness. They shifted and shivered as if alive themselves, ready to stretch, ready to sweep the air before them.

Raelin turned her face upwards, gathered her legs beneath her, and jumped. Kyrie being far lighter than what might be expected, she soared right up to the tops of the trees and a little beyond, and then her wings exploded outwards, snapping to their full length. In one sudden downward push, the air beneath them was forced away, and Raelin shot upwards, laughing as the air rushed past her face.

Raelin tilted, turning sharply, and then gave the air about her another powerful downward stroke. She gained more altitude, the sun striking her wings. For all their glossiness, the feathers did not reflect the sunlight. They soaked it up, spreading its warmth throughout Raelin, warming her far more effectively than any fire could.

Raelin banked sharply and soared out over the river. The air slipped by her easily, the sensation causing her to laugh again with enjoyment. All kyrie loved to fly, but to Raelin, it seemed the best thing in the world. What would life be without flight?

Raelin looked down for a brief moment. The river shimmered below her, and her reflection raced along far below, striving to keep up. A flash of blue, a blur of light golden that was her hair, all else was lost in the white-blue of the water. Raelin flipped over and drove her wings downwards again.

She turned slowly as she ascended, and soon found herself facing the village. It seemed dark, full of browns and grays against the life about it. The wall stood out like an ugly scar against the green of the fields. It had not always been so. Raelin turned away, the sunlight quickly chasing away the image.

She flipped over again, and dived straight down into the river, cutting into the water smoothly, with far too little splash. The current caught her, and she let it, allowing her wings to angle into it. What was water but another form of air?

Kyrie children loved to play in the river, floating and diving, laughing as they splashed about. It shimmered with a white radiance, its waters clear and clean, and it was this that had given it the name of the White River.

Raelin’s feathers didn’t soak up the water, but rather resisted it, so that when she burst from the river again, the droplets slid from them and fell to the ground like so many snowflakes, glistening and glimmering in the sunlight.

Raelin spun, the air drying her off easily, and then sped off to the right, angling downwards. Fields of tall grass rose up to meet her, their stalks lazily beckoning her. She flew right into them, smoothly cushioning her fall with her wings. She came to a slow stop, facing upwards, feeling refreshed and flushed with happiness.

She lay still for a few minutes, staring into the vastness of the blue sky, watching the occasional cloud pass by overhead, and listening to the gentle whispering of the grass about her. She could stay here for hours, resting, enjoying the day. She breathed a deep, contented sigh, and closed her eyes, relishing the smell of the grass about her.

A moment later, she opened them very suddenly. Something was coming – no, running – through the grass. She could hear it rushing blindly through the stalks, snapping and trampling them as it ran. There was something else though. While the creature was definitely running, the steps seemed calculated, controlled. Almost as if the runner was trying to remain hidden, while still moving quickly.

Raelin held still, though she crouched, ready to spring to the air in an instant. A moment later, she caught a glimpse of the creature as it ran by her, separated by barely three yards of grass. The grass was tall enough to entirely hide the creature, but one glimpse was enough. It was no creature.

The kyrie stumbled and turned when Raelin landed softly beside him. He seemed to relax when he saw her, though he still breathed heavily, and twitched at the slightest noise. He was older than Raelin had thought at first, nearly old enough to be her father.

“Why are you running through the grass?” asked Raelin, trying and failing to keep a slight edge from her voice. The grass was grown and cultivated to be tall, not to be trampled down in haste.

The kyrie glanced about him. “I must crave your pardon,” he said, his voice rasping out from under his yellow beard. “I dare not fly.”

Raelin watched the kyrie uncertainly. There was definitely something wrong with him. His eyes had a wild look in them, as if he hadn’t slept for several days, and his skin was oddly red in places, as if from a rash. “What happened to you?” she asked, motioning at the redness.

“This?” said the kyrie, waving it off dismissively. “It is no trouble. Is there a village nearby?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly. “I have news. Dire tidings. Might your parents be close by?”

Raelin breathed in sharply, but banished the thought from her mind before it could fully form. “They’re… not here,” she managed. “My village is just beyond this field.”

“Good,” said the kyrie, a little bit too quickly, Raelin thought. “I should be grateful if you could show me the way. No, don’t fly!” he said as Raelin spread her wings. “We must not fly. Show me your village quickly, I pray you, but do not fly.”

Raelin ran a critical eye over the kyrie. There was something off about him, and it wasn’t his apparent nervousness or his strange desire to not fly. It was the armor.

The kyrie was covered with armor from head to toe. In addition, a thick sword was strapped to his leg, and a dagger was sheathed across his worn breastplate.

“One must be prepared,” the kyrie said quietly, noting Raelin’s gaze. “These have been dark days of late.”

Raelin tore her eyes from the weapons. “Follow me,” she said shortly. “The village is this way. It is but a short distance.”

“Forgive me,” said the kyrie as he walked behind her, “I failed to hear your name.”

Raelin glanced behind her. “I’m Raelin, daughter of Niela” she said. “May I ask yours?”

The kyrie glanced up. “My name? Why, my name would be Thormun.”

---

“They’ve overrun my own village of Taeleron. Half the buildings were burning when I made it out. They’ll come here next.”

“I pray you, keep your voice down.”

Raelin exchanged a glance with her older brother. Mallidon motioned her to remain silent, and bent his head, struggling to catch the next words.

“Forgive me. I haven’t slept for at least a day.”

“How did you escape?”

Raelin heard Thormun cough. “Barely. A band of the minions found me and I had to break cover. I wouldn’t be alive at all if I hadn’t made it to a nearby cave. There were six of them, and I was wounded, but I managed to squirm into a small passage and block it. They couldn’t get in. I would have bled out soon enough if I hadn’t found the pool.”

“The pool?”

“It was deep in the cave. Its waters had some magic in them; I could sense it. I was wary of them at first, but after a time my thirst became too great. I drank, and within the minute I found myself healed. I came here as fast as I could.”

“This pool you found would be valuable – the hordes cannot be allowed to find it.”

“It is well hidden, and besides, there is little we can do at this time. The army is massing at Taeleron. They mean to strike at Jandar, I know it, and you lie directly in their path!”

“Come. You must bring this news to the elders. I’ll show you the way.”

A door shut and opened, and silence fell. Raelin and Mallidon looked at each other.

They were supposed to be eating breakfast. However, barely a bite had been consumed as Thormun related to their father what had happened, hidden from them in an adjoining room. Mallidon and Raelin were both eager for any news of the war, and had strained to catch every word of the whispered conversation.

Now Mallidon turned to Raelin, an excited gleam in his dark blue eyes. “Maybe this will convince father to let me join,” he said. “Utgar is on our very doorstep! He can’t expect me to sit still while he goes to war. I’m eighteen. I’m plenty old enough to fight for my land. Plenty old enough to bring my enemies pain.”

Raelin glanced at Mallidon. She, too, wished she could fight, but she knew it would never be allowed. It was said that Jandar let women fight in his army, but she knew her father would never let her anywhere near a battle. She couldn’t entirely blame him, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to fight.

“I almost wish the minions would attack,” said Mallidon. “I’d kill any who crossed me! Then I would have to join the army. I’d give almost anything to face them. Wouldn’t you, Raelin?”

Raelin would have agreed. She would have given almost anything, and maybe a little more, to face the minions. But as she opened her mouth to say so, a small figure dropped from the landing and alighted on the floor.

Kelda observed them, a slight frown upon her face, her hair still disheveled with sleep.

Raelin closed her mouth. She would not let Kelda hear those words pass her lips.

Kelda was young. She was only fifteen, and looked younger. She was quiet and delicate, but she had the heart of ten. Any who knew her couldn’t help but love her.

Mallidon turned and saw her as well. The gleam of war faded from his eyes, and Raelin saw him unclench his fists. They both loved Kelda, and they both knew how she felt about the war. Neither of them wanted to cause her grief.

---

The day seemed to pass slowly. There were some efforts made to evacuate the village, but no one really believed the army would come. Jandar had a garrison between them and Taeleron. If Utgar meant to attack, he would likely circle around. The danger was small.

Raelin spent the day battling back and forth in her mind. Kelda’s expression as she slept had not left her, and the guilt she felt from wanting to agree with Mallidon about fighting doubled every time she remembered it. However, it was dark before she finally made up her mind. She knew what she had to do.

Kelda and Mallidon were both already asleep; Mallidon out of excited anticipation of a possible attack, and Kelda out of fear for the same. The house was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire, as Raelin leapt softly down to the main room.

Kelda’s father, Raknar by name, sat before the fire, slowly sharpening his massive sword. He was a large kyrie, powerfully built, and he was a respected seer within the village. However, his first duty was, and always had been, to his family.

Raelin crept up to him, allowing the firelight to illuminate one side of her face, leaving the other half in shadow. “Father?” she asked. Raknar was not her true father. He had adopted her when her true father had… become absent. He treated her like his own daughter, however, and she replied in kind.

Raknar looked up and saw her. “The hour grows late, Raelin. You should sleep.”

“I will,” said Raelin, “but I have something to ask of you first.”

Raknar put his sword down and faced her.

Raelin swallowed. She tried not to think of the words. “Don’t go.”

Raknar looked at her blankly for a moment. “Why?” he asked, after a pause.

“Mallidon and Kelda need you,” Raelin said. She had been prepared for that question.

“I won’t be away for long, Raelin. This battle, it’s really just a small matter. It will probably be cleared up before I even arrive. Kelda and Mallidon will be fine with you in charge. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Raelin said nothing. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She wanted him to fight. She wanted to fight herself. And here she was, trying to stop him from going. “Kelda needs you,” she finally breathed. “She won’t say a word against your leaving, because she knows how I and Mallidon feel about it, but I’ve seen her when she thinks I’m not watching. She thinks you won’t return. She thinks… she thinks she’ll be alone.” Raelin swallowed. She had said more than she had meant to.

Raknar watched her, the look in his eyes a little too understanding. “It’s all right, Raelin. I know what this is about.”

“No!” Raelin blurted. “It’s not. It’s about Kelda. I can’t stand the way she looks at you. She cries herself to sleep every night since you told her you were leaving. I love her too much to see her in pain. It’s not about me. It’s about her.”

Raknar looked down. The edge of his sword gleamed in the firelight, the blade flickering as if it too were made of flame. “I have to go, Raelin. You know that. I love you. I love Kelda. I love Mallidon. I would feel I had dishonored you if I did not fight to protect you from such a threat as now looms above us. I go to end this war. I go so that others will not have to. Do not ask me to stay, while others fight for what is theirs.”

Raelin couldn’t convince him. She had known she would fail, but she had needed to try. He was right. He had to go. She would have fully agreed with him, if it weren’t for Kelda.

It took Raelin a long time to get to sleep that night. Lying beside Kelda, she thought of what had been said. “It’s all right, Raelin. I know what this is about.” Raelin could very easily want him to stay herself, even without Kelda. She had every reason to.

War had raged on Valhalla for years. It had started so long ago that no one now remembered what it was about. It could be about anything. The southern kyrie – red-skinned, grotesque, foul smelling fanatical fiends – had long ago waged war against the rest of Valhalla. They had been laughed at when it started. They were but a small number. But more and more of their legions had poured out of the unexplored Volcarren Wasteland, until their armies had spilled forth and laid waste to Kinsland and most of southern Valhalla.

Jandar, ruler of Nastralund, had formed an alliance with his long-time friend and ruler of Ekstrom, Ullar, and had assembled his forces to stop the Volcarren kyrie. Long had he protected his borders, and many kyrie considered the war as good as won. And then Utgar had come.

Burning with blood-lust and wielding a cursed axe of flame, the archkyrie had marshalled the legions of his minions and swept northwards, surging through Bleakwood and striking the alliance at its home. He had been defeated, but just barely. He returned to the south to gather his strength, and there he had remained for many years.

The alliance had been shocked at Utgar’s rapid advance through Bleakwood. As he drew near, they had pulled more and more kyrie into the army from every village and city they could find. Raelin’s father had been enlisted. She had only been seven.

Her father had died. He had been killed in a great battle, and it had been said he died well, with many a dead foe about him. But he had died. Raelin’s mother had never recovered from the news, and died herself barely a month later. Kelda’s father, a good friend of Raelin’s family, had taken her and her brother Mallidon in. Over the years, however, a burning hatred had grown within her, a terrible desire to revenge her dead father and to slay Utgar, the one, it was said, who was responsible for her father’s death. That was why she yearned to fight. That was why she was secretly pleased every time another kyrie went to war.

Kelda stirred in her sleep. Raelin was jolted back to the present. She turned over and watched Kelda. Tears stained her face. Before the anger, before the hatred, she had felt grief. She had been alone, her parents taken by the war. It was a feeling she forever struggled to forget.

If Raknar left, and if he was slain… Kelda would feel that same grief. She would feel alone, and she would be alone. Raelin had covered up her grief with hate, but Kelda… Kelda had no shred of hate within her. She would simply wilt under the weight until she faded away.

Raelin took a long look at Kelda’s face. It was so pure, so loving… Raelin knew the pain the world held, the hurt, the suffering… and she could never let that darkness touch her.

Raelin rolled back over. Kelda’s father wouldn’t leave for two days yet. She still had time to convince him.

The night was silent, calm, peaceful. It seemed enchanted. No war could invade this. No war could reach them here. Raelin would convince Raknar to stay tomorrow.

However, tomorrow would come far sooner than she expected.

A while back, I told my readers I planned on writing a short story before I began my final fan fiction. I gave them three options – ideas that had been floating around my head, on and off of paper, for some time. Almost unanimously, they selected a tale about Raelin’s life in the war.

As far as I can tell, the idea for this fan fiction began sometime in 2012, though it may have arisen long before that. It actually began by listening to a song, the name of which shall not be related here (ironically enough, the ending that was inspired by that song is nothing at all like the actual ending of this tale). History I was studying at the time gave it meaning, and my knowledge of HeroScape gave it substance. And you, my readers, gave me the drive that enabled me to write it down. Without you, I likely would have never become a writer.

In a moment I’ll let you begin reading. However, there are a few important things you should be aware of first.

As I said, this fan fiction was inspired in part by history. The history of World War One and Two, to be exact. It was further inspired by such books (nonfiction) as Testament of Youth, and The Hiding Place, both of which are about those time periods. Because of this, and because of the nature of the tale, there is a certain level of cruelty and violence that is not present in my other fan fictions. Many scenes contain blood. A few scenes contain graphic descriptions, though these are short. There is pain, cruelty, physical and mental suffering, and injuries in this tale. People can and do die. Unlike some other books/movies, there is no strange force protecting the ‘good guys’ from harm.

That being said… I do not linger on this violence. Some writers include it for no reason. Some include it to make things seem more realistic. I do neither. I have included this amount of violence because my fiction is not driven by some vague need to write. It is driven by a need to say something. Though it is rare, in this case, cruelty aids this purpose. I have included what I need, and then I have moved on. I believe gruesome scenes are genuinely difficult to read (which is the whole point), and I will therefore include no more than are absolutely necessary.

THAT being said, some scenes are still gruesome. Descriptions, though brief, will occasionally be graphic.

On a lighter note, this tale relates the history of the war on Valhalla. Or at least such was the intention. As I developed the tale, I began to realize that I would never be able to include the entirety of the Wellspring War. There were several reasons. I wanted to keep this tale short. I wanted to stay focused on my goal. I would need multiple point of view characters, something I definitely did not want.

In the end, I had to take several large liberties with the Valhallian ‘facts.’ I have tried to keep things as close as possible to what is known, but in several places, this was impossible. There is no exploration of the Ticalla. There is no writing of Thormun’s journal. Many of the characters we know and love are never even mentioned, including Vydar and Einar. There is a very simple reason for all of this: these events did not further the story. If I were to include them, the end of this book would contain a lot of unresolved narration that would ultimately be boring to read through, and add nothing to the tale.

However, I believe that I can now stop warning you about this fan fiction. I’ve told you what you needed to know. Now I will stop, and let you read the tale for yourself.

I hope you enjoy it!

~TGRF.