Theo’s black mare whinnies which summon Zack’s own chestnut mare to her side. The nudge each other as they walk along the field; their friendship all more apparent the longer the animals spend time together. Theo’s Delia is younger and antsy, but she bonded with the horse in the stall beside her.

Since then, his own Mika never leaves her side. The meandering path stretches before them and the exhaustion sets in, his muscles ache and all he wants is a hot bath. But the horses are in a better mood, they pick up the pace as they approach the grassy knoll. Theo points to the mountains ahead in the distance; Alexanderia. That's why they're excited; even the horses long for home.

He admits, he is too. His back pangs from sleeping on the hard ground and a hot meal is a tantalizing thought. His soft bed whispers on the breeze, and he can’t wait for the reunion. Over the hill the kingdom’s grand defenses rise from the earth. A colossal stone wall stretches from the base of one mountain to the other; sealing the kingdom inside the legendary gate.

Above the vast wooden and iron doors is a shimmering ruby. The crown of Alexanderia’s wealth and prestige. A grand kingdom committed to tolerance and equality. The hardy people who self sacrifice their own wealth to help the struggling. But to him, the stone is much more.

It symbolizes his mission; to protect the people inside the Gate. Each soldier wears the symbol on their uniforms; to protect and serve. To some it’s a job, but to him it’s a calling. A noble duty he’ll gladly lay his life down for. But the events of the massacre shadow Alexanderia’s glory. He didn’t protect those people. Even though they weren’t his to protect, the failure weighs on him.

But the elation rising from his scouting party interrupts his thoughts. They pick up their pace; the others no doubt dreaming of hot baths and their loved ones. The air vibrates as the one half of the ancient doors creak open, allowing two figures on horseback to exit the kingdom.

“Sir, isn’t that the general?” Theo points to the pudgy man on an ivory horse. He pulls out his spy glass and hands it to Zack.

“Good eye,” then he notices his companion on a caramel stallion and a pack mule tethered to his saddle. “That’s the king.” Not exactly packing light, is he? He returns the glass then motions for Theo to follow. The rest of the party ride towards the gate but Zack calls after his superior who pauses for them to approach. He bows from his saddle to King Avalon before saluting his superior.

“General, I was expecting to brief you at the palace.”

“I will take the blame for this,” the king smiles placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. His tall slender form rides straight in the saddle. Although he’s dressed in modest travelling clothes, he carries himself with an air his rank commands. His shoulder length dark locks curl at the base of his neck. The strands of grey showing from under his cap. “I interrupted the general’s itinerary by insisting we travel to Lollardum.”

“The annual Trade Conference?”

“His Majesty desires an outing,” Lex smirks, “but do not fret Captain, we have it all taken care of.” He reaches from his saddle, unclasps a bag, and tosses it to him. “I had a page pack your things. You can brief me on the way.”

One hand clutches the reigns the other hugs the pack to his chest. Over his shoulder the rest of the group ride passed the gate, towards their earn rest and comfort. Theo waits for a decision, anxiety shimmering as he stands off to the side; silently begging for direction. But it’s the ear-to-ear grin on Lex’s face that pulls him in.

“You’re dismissed Theo, tell the others to report to Captain Greyson, he’ll assign the tasks while I’m away.” King Avalon gives a cheer and Lex smiles, adding to the schoolboy merriment.

“Yes Captain,” Theo salutes, “good luck,” he smirks before riding towards the Gate.

Hitching his additional pack to his saddle he joins the two senior men. As the king informs him of their route, he notices the light heartedness in his tone. When was the last time Allan left the palace? He isn't privy to his private matters but the difference between Allan chained to his court and the man on the horse ahead of him is night and day. And Lex, albeit rounder than his youthful demeanor projects, seems at ease. They share inside jokes which he doesn't understand but their laughter makes for a pleasant trip.

A bubbling brook calls to the thirsty animals and Lex decides its time for a rest stop. In the shade of a maple tree, they lounge on the cool grass and nibble on food from their pack. Zack notes the page included a few of the cook’s famous cheese buns. A taste of home on the road. It hits his empty stomach as his tastebuds rejoice. He almost forgets the urgency from the scouting trip and enjoys the peaceful quiet.

"Now Zack, I think it's time for that briefing." Lex relaxes against the base of the tree stretching his short legs over the roots. And with that, it all comes back.

"We never got to Bellavere," he confesses. Under different circumstances he would have written out a formal report. But at this point he considers simple honesty is more beneficial. "We were at the edge of their border when we saw smoke. A village was afire but by the time we got there a freak rainstorm forced us to seek shelter until the next day."

"Survivors?"

"None that we saw. We searched the rumble, buried what bodies we found and left. Figured it was best not to get caught there, so we returned to Alexanderia."

"I assume you found something you shouldn't have?" Zack pulls a cloth bundle from his pack beside him and hands it to Lex. The general’s face turns pale, his jaw clenches as he inspects the broken blade. Once his eyes get their fill and his mind makes the calculations, he hands it to Allan who watches patiently from his spot under a tree.

"Bellaverian soldiers? Are you implying the military massacred a village? For what reason?"

"I don't know, I was hoping you could tell me. I doubt general Diamond will act without reason but—"

"No this isn't Friedrich. He rather arrest everyone and send them before the king than murder an entire village."

"Do you know what the name of the village was?" Allan asked, covering the weapon with a look of disdain.

"No, your majesty. However, we have a rough estimate of its location." He passes the crumpled map Theo amended to Allan. "Pardon the vagueness, but the village isn't on any map any of us have seen. Its like it didn't exist."

"A phantom village?" Lex scoffs.

"Its a place that rather not be found." Allan adds, he shakes his hand running his finger over the lines. "Dragon Haven. A lot of money was spent to keep map makers from revealing its location."

"You know of this place Allan?"

"Did you venture into the mountains?"

"No, should we have?"

"Perhaps not." Allan strokes his beard before handing the map to Lex. "Something is amiss with our allies. Margaret may be at the conference, so this is a golden opportunity to find out what it is."

"I'll see what my contacts know," Lex adds. "Zack, until we figure out what Bellavere is hiding keep this between ourselves.”

He hates secrets and the deception that follows but it’s the look in Allan’s eyes that fills him with dread. He was suspicious before, but now its clear. He’ll keep this to himself in case who ever destroyed Dragon Haven has plans for Alexanderia. It’s a possibility he didn’t want to consider. Now he wishes he entered the Gate; Alexanderia feels more vulnerable with the three of them here.

Both men past the time recounting past boyish escapades until they are blue in the face. He learns a bit too much about some of the lords’ midnight escapades than he cares to know. He may never regard Lord Edward the same again; especially after knowing his taste for dockyard rendezvouses. His uncle leads them off the main path which seems out of the ordinary. They push their horses and the donkey down a narrow deer path only local game hunters frequent.

At least on the main route he can survey strangers who approach them. But here, the brush is thick, he can’t see Lex ahead of Allan. Off to the side plump fruit plops from the trees; bouncing on the mossy ground with a thud. His ears listen for any sound; footsteps from stalkers or crunching of branches from a curious predator. A twig snaps; sending chills crawling over his skin. The hair on his neck stands straight as his brain calculates the dire warning: you’re not alone.

He can almost hear their dagger slide from the sheath. The bushes beside him rustle, but his hand finds the familiar hilt at his waist. His grip tightens, seconds pass like an eternity as the silence engulfs the forest. His enemy, even death, is a hair width away. Another crack, this time to his left. His eyes dart from one leafy shrub to the next. The blood pumps through his veins. Another twig cracks, ushering in an eerie stillness.

From the shadows an eight-point buck emerges from the tree line. Soft, brown with sleek pointed antlers, the brown eyes stare into his. Behind him a doe, who joins his side followed by a white spotted fawn. He exhales the breath he isn’t aware he’s holding and relinquishes the grip on the hilt. Cautious, graceful creatures, but not the enemy he expects.

“Zack my lad, is everything alright? You best not stray down that path. Travelers' say there is a way to the heart of Lunar Forest in these parts, and frankly it is not a place for casual visitors.”

“His Majesty is right, there’s enough fiends ahead of us, its wise not to chance the ones behind,” His uncle adds. Zack presses his heels into the horse’s side motioning her forward.

“Does Lunar Forest exist?” He remembers the ghoulish tales of monsters that hunt in the eternal darkness. Various versions were told over a campfire by the knights he tended too; for weeks he didn’t sleep, expecting the trees to come alive and gobble him up. “A forest of perpetual night, I thought it was a place Sir Victor made up to scare us Pages.”

“Tall tales stem from truth. Although the origins are unknown the stories tell of evil stalking the winding paths. I have been told; few ever escape with their lives.”

“Amusing isn’t it, something as sinister as Lunar Forest just south. And north is Lollardum which is home to another sort of trouble all together. Seems to me, it’s best if we avoid this part of the continent all together,” his uncle muses.

“Where is your sense of adventure Lex,”

“I am not the spry soldier like our Captain here. Adventure, like cakes, don’t seem to agree with me anymore.”

“Do you hear that lad, more adventure for the rest of us then.”

“Is that why you brought me along, sire?” he means it in jest but Allan’s smile fades.

“I have been pondering the events of Dragon Haven and your unfortunate experience. I regret that you had to witness such a horror. But you handled it with the compassion and leadership I expected from a knight in my Guard. If I must face trade talks with Castellan and the rest of the leaders of Umara, I rather have you and Lex at my side.”

The mention of Dragon Haven forces his stomach to his feet. Until that day he didn’t know the small village existed; but all they did is follow the smoke. An entire livelihood and peoples wiped away, only their charred corpses remain.

“I appreciate your sentiment your Majesty.”

“It’s more than sentiment Zack, Lollardum is not safe for his Majesty. Honestly, I rather skip the whole endeavor—”

“We both know I refuse to cower behind our mountain walls. Despite how much these talks bore me to tears; I will not change my plans.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but is it safe for you in Lollardum? I mean you are a Mage after all.” Allan chuckles to himself, regarding him as if he were the son he never had.

“I have little to fear there, my boy, my position protects me enough. Plus, I have both of you, I am the safest man in all of Umara.”

“These talks are a gruesome task. Nothing but rich people weaseling money from each other, no offense my king. However, it is a good way to examine Lollardum, see if they are plotting something new,” he winks.

Political espionage isn’t his forte. He rather stub his smallest toe on a table than fake interest in Lollardum shallow social elite. Cleaning the horse stables is more enjoyable than the petty gossip they spew. He didn’t care about someone breaking the social taboo of wearing the wrong gloves to a picnic.

He didn’t want to drink with the men who brag about their mistresses. When he’s with people he wants facts, the truth, and their authentic selves. Even if it means they’re the most insufferable person he ever met. Even the worse person is better than a fake one. Regardless, he prepares himself for a battle he’s ill equipped to fight.

~~*~~

Thick waxy leaves obstruct the sun as Eclipse descends deeper along the forest path. Each step confirms his suspicions, this place isn’t a usual forest. Despite the darkness around him, he knows its only late afternoon beyond the trees. Inside its pass sunset. He wishes he knew sooner, felt the magic snaking underneath the roots, but its too late. They’re pass the point of no return and now must find their way out of the maze. But first, he needs to find the twerp’s dragon.

Branches creak as they slither around neighbouring trees and over rocks; following him into the night. His skin prickles under his fur as unknown eyes linger from behind the trees. Ghostly tendrils of smoke wisp in front of his nose. Breaching the darkness ahead of him is a flickering flame; taunting the curious. However, his stomach sinks knowing the likely source is less fantastical. Damn thing will burn the whole place and us in it.

He approaches the fading torch flickering from the center of the path. Between the smoke and dying flames is an outline of a human form frantically waving a makeshift club in the air. The human sides steps further down the path with his eyes glued to the treetops. The forest floor is damp and soft, following the man is like walking on years of decaying debris. But he prefers the moss over the sticky puddle his paw steps in. His nose twitches, sniffing the warm liquid; blood.

Well, that answers that question. One down…

Branches rattle, shaking a blurry shape from the leaves, it swoops and dives towards the soldier. It inhales the hot stale air before unleashing a fire stream against him drowning the forest in a brilliant light; screams and the stench of burnt flesh floods his nose.

“Help me!” the soldier shouts, searching the shadows for any ally.

But he remains still, crouching behind a dry log as Charcoal flutters to the ground. His wings struggle to hold his pudgy body but they still manage flight; even if its clumsy. There’s a carnal passion in the dragon’s eyes; something he never notices until now. His hyper focus and unawareness of his presence makes him uneasy. Despite the hoarse screams exploding from the human’s throat, Charcoal prepares for the charge. But the distraught man cowers; tripping over himself to the edge of the path.

A root pokes from the ground, catching his feet and sends him tumbling into a bush Eclipse swears wasn’t there a minute ago. Growls, teeth, and saliva burst from the leaves, its hinged mouth flings open swallowing him alive; there’s only an agonizing scream, snapping of bones then silence. The leaves beside him fidget; avoiding a similar fate he steps from the shadows. Joining the dragon whose head tilts to the side; his eyes stare blankly into his.

He pokes the yearling, who perks his head up; strangely happy to see him. He wants to play and has no memory of the attack. A type of frenzy, he concludes. So blinded by blood lust he sees nothing else. A new worry clings to his bones; can Sara control this? Is she aware how advance he’s growing? Worse yet, is it his place to tell her or is this what she must recognise on her own?

He brings the creature along with him; another menial task complete. As Sara coddles her precious pet, Moira tightens the restraints on the captured soldier’s wrists. They’re wasting daylight, as it were, and he didn’t trust this forest. On the other hand, its their best chance at avoiding more soldiers roaming the area. They can’t remain and he hates to leave.

“Moira, any time now,”

“I’m almost ready, hold your horses.” Sara, as instructed, tosses the rest of the weapons in the bog at the end of the brook. “Okay, we’re ready. Are you sure we should keep them like this? What if they come after us?”

“If they desire to live, I suggest they return the way they came; following us into the forest is certain death.”

“And Kipling? What happens when they report back to him?”

“We cross that bridge when we get there. We need to leave.”