men at that garrison!” the king roared. He moved back up the stairs to his throne and sat down heavily in thought. “Lathrin, call a war council. We meet in one hour.”
“Yes, my Lord,” replied Lathrin as he got up from the table and strode down the long hallway and out the double doors.
“Good work, Tuarg. Rest now and be ready to scout again tomorrow,” ordered the king.
“Yes, sir,” the tired scout replied, turning to follow Lathrin out the door.
“Father, Lord Moradin would not attack us openly unless he was being forced to, or being paid a lot of gold. He has always been a thorn in our side but he does not have the power to confront us directly. Do you think Banrith has something to do with this?”
“I do,” replied the tired king. “Something is happening at Banrith. Evil is spreading from that land again.” The king directed his demanding gaze toward Alerion. “Alerion, I need some questions answered, and soon. Is Malbeck back? What sort of evil is rising from the North? What are we going to be fighting and how do we defeat it?”
Alerion stood up and gripped his staff that was leaning against the table’s edge. “I will do my best, sire,” replied the wizard with a nod as he walked out of the king’s conference room.
“Manlin?”
“Yes, my Lord?” asked the high priest.
“Go to your temple. Pray to Shyann, use her power to find out anything for me, any information that would be useful.”
The priest stood up. “If she wills it my Lord, then I will have some answers for you.” Manlin turned, following the wizard down the hallway.
“Father, it’s a ruse of some sort. The army at Banrith attacks Tarsis, while this new army attacks us. Neither army can come to aid the other. Simple divide and conquer strategy.”
“My thoughts exactly,” the king replied. “Baylin, send out riders immediately to our allies and ask them to send their soldiers. Tell them to meet our army at the Lindsor Bridge as soon as they can mobilize their forces. How long to march an army from Numenell?”
“I’d say about eight days,” replied the prince.
“Okay, go, my son. Send out the riders and then meet me back here as soon as you can for the council. I will need you.”
“Yes, Father,” replied the prince, bowing as he departed.
***
The Greever loved the night. It was his favorite time to hunt and the darkness did nothing to hurt his vision. He could see just as well in the pitch black of a moonless night, as he could in the day, and the dark trees below him
glowed with a shimmering green. The demon saw things in auras of color, greens, reds, blues, and oranges, depending on the heat signature they put out. But everything had energy, this, the demon knew, so everything had a color.
His master had been pleased with his work lately, and the Greever loved these recent hunts more than any other. The feeling of ripping the flesh from a cavalier made the demon shudder in ecstasy. But these warriors were not easy prey, they caused him great pain over the years, wounds that stung and magic that hurt its flesh. The Greever had felt similar pain before, not too long ago, when the big human cleaved its chest open with that silver axe. The demon wouldn’t forget that warrior, his stench, and it would hunt him down for the pain that he caused.
But this was the hunt that the Greever had been waiting for, the one that started it all. He still remembered the smell of the young man that he had almost killed over two years ago. The smell of his pure heart coated the demon’s nostrils. The pulsing goodness within the boy was a bright light to the Greever, and the beast wanted nothing more than to extinguish it.
The Greever beat its long leathery wings and its nostrils pulsed with life, hunting the air for the stink of the man. The hunter knew its prey would be close; its master told it where to go. The Greever would not fail this time, nor would it stop until it found this human and ripped the life from him and ate his bloody heart. The beast’s jaws opened instinctively, its tongue darting out beyond its razor sharp fangs, hunting for the metallic taste of blood. It wouldn’t be long now, thought the demon, flanking to the right toward the dark peaks of the Tundrens.