"But who was the man I saw them decapitate? Took his head clean off."

"Don't worry about it, Magi. You need your rest. I would suggest closing those eyes and resting." Abimelek sat up, picking open nuts with his dagger and tossing the shells aside for his horse to chew. Twigs and sticks had been gathered in a large pile, but it was not sundown yet, though it soon would be. Abimelek and Fintan sat alone now, the others off hunting or standing watch.

Abimelek spoke, "You could use our help, Fintan. We are still Magi Knights, after all. Who says we cannot work together under our own accord?"

Fintan held his lips firmly shut and just stared off into lightly swaying branches that hung overhead. Leaves made rustling noises and brushed together and swayed across the frozen ground of the woods.

"I mean after what I just witnessed back there; I don't mean to step on your toes, but I'd say you're in the same category as us. Absolutely slaughtered them, you did."

"Don't you dare group me in with your lot of men. You made a choice to leave the Order, and your magic practices keeps it so." Fintan raised his tone as he replied.

"No need to get upset, Fintan. We are living in times where groups of different ideals must come together. One war has ended amongst men, but another is just started—and men have never been so vulnerable. We want the same things, Fintan. We want King Steed dead, we want the curse back upon the filth of those lands, but I think more than that—we want Ral'tor bound and captured forever. It doesn't matter how it's done in the end; it is only that it gets done. Nobody will look back and discuss whether this spell or that spell was done by Ertorin stone or by Valligian Tusks."

"The Creator above doesn't care about what the realm of men thinks, Abimelek. That's not what we focus on in the Order. We must follow his will for us, and by using the Ertorin stone we can do exactly that. Now I don't know what you value more, Abimelek, your will or The Creator's? You tell me."

"I am choosing my own path, but I am still doing the work of The Creator. I am taking down his enemies with my gifts!" Abimelek had raised his voice now and had his Valligian Tusk raised in the air with the grasp of his right hand.

"And in the same way, Fintan, the Order is done, it's gone."

"Yeah? And whose fault is that then? Maybe the downfall started when you and the others abandoned the Temple when the war started, then look what happened? What about the vows you took to always protect and guard the Temple with your life?"

"Vows are created to form trust amongst people. I never had the trust of the Order. If it isn't going to work both ways, I am not interested. You must learn this soon, old friend. This realm is a man's realm. You have to get your hands dirty at some point, and now is the perfect time."

Fintan shook his head in disgust. He laid back down on top of his cloak that he had laid out. His face was ghastly white and pale from the energy he had exerted on the Ulthrakis. His heart was still racing, and his stomach had a sharp pain that shot up his torso.

"You abused the use of your stone for a man who wasn't even dead. How do you call that clean magic, huh? You tell me who has become a dark knight."

Fintan shot up from his position on the ground and so did Abimelek. Fintan's face was inches from Abimelek's as Fintan's hand went down to his knife at his side.

"It would make me feel much better inside if I gutted a traitor to the Magi Order. I think that would please The Creator very much."

"Yeah? Well why don't you go ahead and test that out, see how that goes for ya. My bet is that you're too weak. It takes a lot out of someone to slaughter fifty innocent Ulthrakis, but I couldn't tell you for sure."

A third voice chimed in now, "Well wouldn't that be ironic if two Magi Knights cut each other's throats." His voice sounded as If his throat had been cut itself. It was sharp as a knife and demanded respect in some inexplainable way. Abimelek didn't flinch but Fintan turned to see a concealed face underneath a heavy, forest green cloak. His eyes were hidden somewhere in the shadow of the hood.

"And who is that?"

No response came but instead the man stood unmoving from his position. Abimelek motioned towards him now, "That's Gemril, he's an exiled Maldurian. Best you don't look at him for too long or it'll be you he's coming for."

"And what's in it for you?"

"I can speak for myself. I am after the Maldur King Slayer, I want my revenge first but once that is settled Abimelek and his men can have the reward. I don't care about the coin like men do."

"Who has the reward out?"

"The court of Weptswur. They are offering a fine coin for the capture of the Slayer." Abimelek replied to Fintan more calmly now that Gemril was there. He had a certain edge about him that made even the Dark Knight uneasy.

"If you plan on stopping us then I'll see you gone myself, Magi." Gemril had a threatening tone but Fintan didn't let his nerve show.

"No, that shouldn't affect my mission." I must work with them now just to prevent that from happening. The Maldur King Slayer must remain alive and freed in order to take down Mestrane. Fintan's hand went instinctually to the scrolls of parchment inside his cloak he had just pulled over him a moment before. He felt the old texture of the dry paper in between his fingers and felt his shoulders drop. He hadn't realized how tense he had been until that moment.

Silence filled the air until the sun had descended in the sky. Gideon and Crado arrived from the hunt with a doe and a baby black bear.

"More furs and skins to keep us warm and a great big meal awaits us. Venison is on the table for tonight." Gideon held back his smile for how pleased he sounded with his catch. His hair had gotten even darker now that winter had arrived. His face had been ridden of all facial hair and his teeth appeared white as the flurries that began to fall now.

The men created a fire and sat around its warmth while the meat cooked. Abimelek and Crado set to skinning the bear now, fashioning furs out of its thick, black fur.

The juices from the venison squirted from the warm meat as Fintan dug into his first hot meal in what felt like months. He hadn't needed a second offering to join them in their meal. Gemril the Maldurian had refused the venison and sat off by himself. Instead he drank the bear's blood that had been drained from its body earlier. Fintan shuttered as he slurped it down, making noisy sounds with his mouth as he did it. Fintan didn't trust the Maldur mystery man. There was something that put him off to the Maldurian. He could see the side of his face now as he turned side on to him, downing the last of the blood from a flask he had collected the blood in. His face was pasty white, but he had a few scars that stained his cheek a deep blue, or are those markings of some sort? Fintan turned away in order to not draw attention to his staring. I'll get a better look later, but hopefully under my terms and not in my sleep with a knife to my throat. He hadn't encountered their species often. The relationship between a Maldur and a Magi was traditionally ill-blooded through history. The Maldurians weren't fond of man in general, as it was their God-given responsibility to protect them from the cursed beings that were thrown into dormancy in Mestrane—beyond the beautiful gardens and golden Meadows—where the shadows gloomed large and the fallen Maldurian, Ral'tor, dwelled with his fellow fallen creations.

Fintan jumped when a voice was soon beside him unexpectedly, "Your powers won't work on us like they do with the common folk, Magi." It was Crado who spoke. Fintan didn't like his wry undertone. He had never been close with Crado, even back at the Order when they had gatherings at the Temple. He wasn't surprised to see that he had taken up dark magic with Abimelek. His unique magic-wielding abilities had gotten him far through apprenticeship under his master, but he had been granted the title as Magi not by his strong connection to The Creator, but by his talents he was gifted with in magic use.

It is a shame, that is. The Order contributed to its own downfall in a way. The leadership was weak at a time where the realm needed Magi to restore order. Apprentices became Magi, and that generation is now at the helm and look how they have turned out. Hungry to fulfill their own will and not the will of The Creator. A pity, but that sort of thinking never served me well.

"I would certainly hope not Crado, we trained together under the same apprenticeship."

"Different masters, though. I don't know what your master taught you, but even mine would never have condoned a mass execution of innocent Ulthrakis. They never get involved in foreign affairs, did your master teach you as much?"

Fintan's demeanor changed. His crudely made wooden bowl filled with venison was dumped onto the ground—rousing a glance from a reserved Gideon. "I know what I saw. Visions rarely tell a lie, and if not the truth directly, it reveals something important."

"Was the nobleman from Scourden an important prisoner to you?" Crado laughed crudely in Fintan's face but his smile faded quickly.

"Tell me where we will find the boy."

"Who—Vince? Oh, he's close, don't worry, master Fintan. I'm sure he can trust that his master will save him after leaving him for dead. Tell me, Fintan, do you truly see yourself as the good guy still? I think your recent actions make us much the same, don't you think?" It was Abimelek who had been listening and invited himself back into the conversation.

Fintan lost his cool manner, "I would never have done what I did If I thought Vince had not lost his way. He is young and I did not expect him to come across dark magic. You and I are very different Abimelek, very different. You have done far worse deeds for far less good."

Abimelek had brandished his fine blade from its scabbard and he warmed it over the fire. Fintan felt his own scabbard at his hip and his heart rose in his chest when he felt it missing. They must have taken it from me after the slaying of the Ulthrakis. Fintan watched as Abimelek's blade glimmered an orange reflection from the leaping flames of the fire. The hilt did not have an Ertorin stone embeded within it, but instead Fintan recognized the Valligian Tusks from one of the wild Valligian beasts. Utter blasphemy upon the honor of the Magi Order, thought Fintan. A Magi sworn through his vows that once magic was instilled within them through the wonder of the Ertorin stone, they were to never use any other means of magic-wielding besides the stone.

A Villigian beast was one of the old mammoths of the Old Age commonly used for war. Fintan had not seen many, if any, of their kind during the last war of The Last Kings. Fintan's eyes poured over the filed down tusk that embedded itself inside the hilt of Abimelek's sword. It was quite a small tusk for such a large mammal. It was one of the lower tusks though, just underneath its massive tusk that was big enough to batter down strong castle walls. He'd have to travel across the great seas to find lands where Valligian mammoths still roamed in numbers.

The Dark Knights went about their own business now, sparing words. Abimelek warmed his blade and then sharpened its edge over the fire. Crado began fashioning new arrows for his quiver after he had diminished a large part of his supply in their rescue of Fintan, sinking countless arrows into the chests of Ulthraki warriors. Crado's finger worked mysteriously with the wood he had gathered—thin sticks that served as a steady shaft were transformed through some dark transformative art as Fintan watched on in secret, intrigued but dismayed. Gideon was most secluded, setting up a make shift bed out of the newly created bear furs and laying out a flat arrangement on the forest floor, and soon his sounds of snoring filled the night. He's a good man, who's fallen to the temptations of dark magic. Or maybe he isn't a good man...

It was an early morning for the four Knights of Magic and the Maldurian. They travelled by horse, and it was Fintan who shared a horse with Gideon, who had kindly offered Fintan a seat. They paced at a steady walk through the woods, woods that Fintan had never seen before when travelling from Ulthrak towards Weptswur.

"We are headed towards Weptswur, yeah?" asked Fintan.

"Not quite, we're headed a little deeper westward through Weptswur's border to find your apprentice. You okay with that, Magi?"

Fintan didn't like the way he had titled him Magi as if he had never been one himself.

"That aligns with my desire well enough, but I would like to know where we travel to in search of Vince—I hope that much you can tell me."

Abimelek let the comment simmer for a little as the hooves of the horses clacked soothingly on the forest floor, crunching leaves as they went.

"I don't think we owe you a thing, especially after we just saved your arse back in Ulthrak. It was Gideon's request, ya know." Gideon pursed his lips awkwardly and gave Fintan a half-nod from his seated position in front of him on the horse.

"Well if you went through the trouble why don't you just tell me where we're headed, we're not enemies if I'm not mistaken."

"With how unpredictable you've proven to be lately; I'd rather not give anything away. Think of this as a trust exercise between you and me, old friend." Abimelek puffed his chest out confidently atop his beautiful black horse. Fintan had admired its beauty during the first hour of the ride, and he hadn't gotten tired of staring at it hours later.

Fintan held his tongue and they rode on in silence. It was the first time in five days that snow had not fallen from the sky. The sun held its own under cover of white clouds, but it was the brightest it had been for a while. The only sounds accompanying the clack of the horse's hooves was the scurrying of busy squirrels and deer, scampering through the woods in search of nuts that rustled out of the trees from light gusts.

Two days of little to no talking came and went in a flash. Gemril the Maldurian had not spoken since the first night Fintan had slept amongst the group, and Abimelek, Gideon, and Crado only spoke quietly amongst themselves—leaving Fintan out of earshot each time they congregated together. It did not bother him so much anymore, as long as they were truly headed for Vince.

On the third straight day of riding on a couple hours rest it came to be Abimelek and Fintan's horse that rode near parallel at the front of the line. They had left the woods after the second day, but they had entered a whole new forest now that was much thicker than the previous.

"Do you plan to ride to Weptswur?" asked Fintan.

"Yes, but not to see the King if that is what you are asking."

"What do you plan to do in Weptswur?"

"Catch that coward Maldurian Slayer and gather my reward, our reward." Abimelek motioned his hand back over Crado and Gemril.

"I don't think that to be wise, Abimelek. On my way to find Vince, I visited an old friend, you remember Gerd—one of the oldest of the Magi before us?"

"Yes, I do remember him. Quite the boring old man, he was."

"He left me a couple scrolls and old parchment to point me in the right direction. I think they are important, prophecies made by Elders of the Magi Order years and years ago."

"Fintan you know how I feel about those men. They spew out prophecy out of their—"

"—no, this is different. There is no specific name signed to this parchment. The words are daunting, but I sense them true by light of the Ertorin stone. I shined an illumination light upon it, and it glowed true. If my stone was telling true, The Creator means for us to use the scrolls. It told me many things, but one of these telling's was concerning the Maldur Slayer."

"What about him? We must capture him; I know this already."

"No, we must find him. But we cannot turn him in, not to Weptswur. Something tells me he is an important piece in all this. He lifted the curse so he can enforce it again."

Abimelek grew irritated, "He was some squire boy not some legendary Necromancer. Ordinary men don't cast spells, Fintan. We're turning him in and I'm taking my reward. Don't get in my way, Fintan. Not now."

Fintan sighed and looked onward to the thin sliver of light spitting out from the end of the forest's path further ahead.

"It looks like we are finally coming towards our destination." Gideon aroused from his nap, to which Fintan pondered how one could possibly sleep sitting upright on a horse. Maybe he felt uncomfortable listening to us speak so he faked his slumber.

The five of them arrived at an odd site to meet a captive. It was a raised surface of green grasses and large rock structures, isolated of any civilization or living quarters. Beyond the encirclement of rock structures Fintan spied no villages, towns, or huts anywhere.

"So where is Vince? I thought you were taking me to him..."

"He's here. But it's not that easy, Fintan. He is here, somewhere."

"There is no one here. Who took him? Who lives here?"

"Guess you'll have to find out."

From behind the tall pillars of rock emerged the trademark robes of the Ki'vatsu. Fine embroidered designs disguised themselves in a textured black design along the outsides of their black robes. Facial coverings allowed only slits for their eyes to see. Most daunting of all were the blades they held. Each had a unique hilt. The blades were pure beauty, glimmering gold at one angle and then silver upon tilting in another direction as it twisted elegantly in the grip of the Ki'vatsu men.

Fintan turned back in confusion and was met with more of it. Crado had withdrawn his Valligian tusk and blew into, emitting a thick black smoke that coated Fintan's lungs and sent him to the ground, sprawling in agony. Soon he could not move anymore, and his eyes burned.

"Where's your cute little emerald stone, Magi?" spit Crado. He looked contemptuously upon the crippled Fintan at his feet.

Abimelek moved past the two as another man moved in front of the gathered Ki'vatsu.

Abimelek spoke first, "Edmund Nightclaw, it is good to meet with you yet again."

"I trusted you dispatched of the Scourden noblemen, Abi. Was he dealt with?"

"Yes, the Ulthraki finished him, and then the Magi Knight finished off the Ulthraki."

"Good...good. So, the mirage worked. It's quite astounding how weak the barriers of Ertorin magic has become in today's realm. But the stone should make a fine addition to my increasing powers."

Abimelek removed Fintan's scabbard from its place at the side of horse and tossed it to Nightclaw. The Ki'vatsu remained behind, motionless. Mindless. Edmund unsheathed the blade and examined the hilt where the stone was embedded. Nightclaw muttered something and then detached the stone from its place inside the hilt. He turned it in his hands and smiled at its green radiance.

"Well done, Abi the dark knight. You shall be rewarded accordingly." The Necromancer nodded his head at one of the Ki'vatsu in line behind, "Erdezo, bring forth the gold and silver."

"We agreed on the dragon tusk." Abimelek's posture tensed. Crado's fingers instinctually went back for an arrow and the Ki'vatsu unsheathed their blades again instinctually. Edmund put a hand up to motion the blades down.

"Now, now, Abimelek. I wouldn't want things to get ugly here. The dragon tusk is a bit...erm...difficult, I will say."

"How so? Just take it off the boy Vince and hand it to me."

"That cannot be done so easily. The boy is bound to it already. To break such a bond, is to provoke the dragon."

"So what? That dragon is burning in the fires of Mestrane right now. You're a necromancer, break the bond."

"No, Abimelek, I'm afraid that can't happen. And actually, I suggest you take the gold and silver while you still can. These Ki'vatsu are bread with a sword by the time they take their first steps so I wouldn't test it, wise Knight." Edmund spit out the last words like poison. Fintan was still lying in a heap on the ground, unmoving. He was being ignored for now, but he could still hear what was going on. He should have known it was a trap, Abimelek does not care for others but only for his own will. He could feel the Ertorin stone crying out for its owner. It did not belong in another's hand until the bond was broken. Of course, a Necromancer is one magic-wielder he would not have wanted to be in control of the stone.

Abimelek nodded Crado forward to grab the coin. The Ki'vatsu followed him closely with their swords, not batting an eye as he reached his hand out to receive the payment from Erdezo. The cold coins trickled into his palm and Crado retreated backwards, not removing his eyes from the stone-cold statues of Ki'vatsu.

Abimelek stood facing Edmund still. Gideon and Crado retreated back to his side. Gemril had not risen from his horse the entire time. His hood still concealed his face, the hood casting a long shadow over his features. Fintan wondered if they knew he was not a human. Abimelek jolted his head towards Fintan laying on the ground,

"We've paid in full, but I don't believe we've received our fair share. You may have the stone but return to us Fintan by himself, and give us the apprentice boy, Vince."

"Do you have no respect for me now, Dark Knight? Go and be gone, our dealings are done here. You have a fortnight to bring me the Maldur Slayer, or I'll see my Ki'vatsu come for your head."

Abimelek contorted his face into a snarl but hopped up onto his horse again. Crado and Gideon followed suit, and soon the four of them turned the spurs and galloped away back through the narrow path of the Ulthrak hidden forest.

When the last of their hooves were heard, Edmund ordered his Ki'vatsu. "Toss him into the pit with his apprentice boy. The Valligian will be hungry tonight."