"What a drastic change from what you told me days ago. You came to me like an angel, proclaiming your faithfulness to my cause, and now you want to warn me of the danger?"

"Oh, my friend, you don't know the first thing of it. This bigger than conflict between our own kind. We are talking about conflict between two great forces of our world coming against each other."

"I don't indulge in these little fairy tales, Dagnar. You don't know the first thing of the world yourself. There's been war out there, and I've lived through it. I came out of the war of the Last Kings as a leader of free men, thousands of men. You know why? I was the strongest man they had seen, all through the war. It was me; I am the man that is feared."

"No, lord Commander Torval. I am telling you and giving you a fair warning. If you get involved, you will merely be a pawn in the affair as I once was. I am not going to sway you one way or the other, this is simply a warning. You can turn back now and prepare a defense of the century. Grab the north, grab the Ulthraks, the Adrossi, the Scowards, form a formidable army. I've seen what is to come."

"No, you are trying to keep me from getting to my ultimate goal—I will not be denied what you desire for yourself so selfishly. Onward we march—to Mestrane!" The men around Torval nodded in agreement and pounded the butts of their spears into the orange dirt.

"Do you think I am a coward, Dagnar? Do you?"

"No, I never said that. I think you are quite courageous; I am no fool."

"Well good, I'm glad you think that." Without looking, Torval grabbed a dirk from one of his guardsman's hands and laterally slammed the tip of the dirk deep into his chest, kicking him down into the dirt, all whilst his eyes remained on Dagnar.

"Do I look like a man who backs from death? Would a fearless man return to Raideth a coward?"

"No."

"I would rather die a fool's death by the hand of a craven than to return to my land where my brother sits and dwells like a peasant with his small pile of bronze coins. So please, take us to Mestrane. Take us right to the front gates, for I have no fear of any army."

At this point many men had gathered around Torval and Dagnar and had been listening and progressively growing louder and more aggressive. A huge roar of approval lifted up Torval and soon chants of his name rung out around the camp, "OHHH, TORVALOOO RAINBLOOD. OHHHHH, TORVALOOOO RAINBLOOD."

The ground shook as men jumped up and down, spears and axes slamming the dirt. The noise was so deafening that the ground trembled and the sands swayed busily underfoot. Torval's army prepared to march south.

It was just before the sun's descendance below the skyline that Torval settled into his tent for the night. He had been in a soured mood for the past week. The escape of Randor had set him to rage. His men had not seen him for four days afterwards, staying hidden within his tent. Two of his squires had entered the tent but never appeared again.

The Raideth usurper turned in his furs and skins to find his kalla lying beside him. There were no kalla wives in Modena but Torval had brought the tradition with him from Keyhor where he was born. He had only made himself one kalla but he remembered how his father had taken six for himself. Torval laid beside his kalla, watchering her as she slept. He planted a kiss on her forehead. Her brown eyes fluttered open and she smiled as one does when still in a haze of dreams.

"We have slept half the day kalla." His kalla just moaned and stretched her arms high above her head. Torval ran a hand gently along her belly as she stretched. She let her arms come down around his head and she pulled him to her chest. He planted kisses all along her breast and up her head. She giggled and pushed his face away playfully.

"How did I get so lucky?" Torval almost whispered it as he watched her lips and raised her chin with his fingers. The two shared a kiss, but Torval pulled away as her hand began to move down his leg.

"What is it?" asked the kalla.

Torval shook his head, his eyes searching the furs that spread along the ground underneath them. His fingers twisted some excess fur that stuck out from the fur skin.

"I—I don't know. I've got a lot to figure out, Kailah." Torval lay on his back now.

"The Magi Knight was trouble anyways. He's the last of his kind, isn't that what you told me?"

"Yes, but—"

"But what, Torval? You are the only one brave enough to take the Mestrane throne. You know this." Kailah lay on her side facing him. Torval felt her staring at his lips with her own. He didn't give in this time.

"I am scared, Kailah. I am scared...of what we will face...the meadows...it is the last thing a man sees before he faces whatever lies beyond. I've heard stories—"

"I thought Torval Rainblood didn't listen to stories except for his own? What happened to that Torval? That is the Torval that captured Raideth."

Torval stared at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. A few seconds pause allowed of the sounds of men bickering outside to carry inside the tent. Their bickering died away once the men had walked out of earshot.

"It is not a story anymore once it is true. I cannot outrun the truth, Kailah. There is a chance I am leading my men to their death. Maybe I should have been content with Raideth."

"No, love, don't be. Raideth is for your brother. You were destined for things greater than that." Kailah peppered his body with kisses and began to her hands down his body. He couldn't hide the pleasure it brought but he brushed her aside.

"What, Torval?" The look of lust had left Kailah's face now. Her curly hair was hanging over her face as she leaned over his own.

"Tell me what stories you fear, and I will tell you how there is nothing you cannot overcome." Kailah had a dangerous glint in her eye now, Torval knew the look. She never would let him fear.

"There is a tale of the King who lives. The King of stories past known as King Steed. My men claim that the spirit of Elri'ktor has been freed and that he is going to take back the realm through this ancient king."

"It is a tall tale to test who are the men that are scared and who are the men that will grab this world by the reins and ride it. Are a man that is scared, Torval?" Kailah said it provokingly, and Torval took the bait.

"No, I am the sword that pierces, I am the one who rules, the king who will take the reins of the world and run. I will be more powerful than King Steed. They will call me the King of the Destriers, the war horse of the realm," Torval's voice had grown passionate.

Kailah rubbed her nose on his, "Good, my love. Good." She slowered matched her lips to his and the two let their bodies meet as one.

The two finished and were left panting, each laying side by side on their backs.

"I will take Mestrane. And when I do, I will kill that Red cloaked bastard."

Kailah tilted her head, "Love, do you still think of these things? Did I not distract you from your worries like I always do?"

"To distract me from my worries would be to kill me, kalla. As long as I live, I will not rest until I sit upon that throne. I made a promise, kalla."

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"A promise? A promise to who?"

"To the Dread Lord."

Kailah rose from her place beside Torval, perplexed. Her lip quivered and her eyes grew restless.

"I—I don't understand, love. You serve no lord; you have told me this."

"I serve no lord, but I have found a lord who serves me." Torval grabbed a bone from the mutton he had eaten for lunch and threw it at one of his men who sat slouched against the wall of tent, pretending to be asleep. His eyes flung open.

He scrambled to his feet, almost falling backward over a pile of half-eaten apples.

"At your service milord." The man stood with his half-helm sideways on his head and his bronze armor caked in spider webs and dirt. His eyes were blood shot through the visor of his helm.

"Fetch me the Dread Lord. I want him inside my quarters now."

The man scurried from the tent and dragged the guard outside the tent flaps along with him to fetch the Dread Lord.

Shortly later, the two men returned with a man held between them. The man was presented before Torval and Kailah who were now standing. Torval paced behind the Dread Lord with his hands folded. Kailah remained staring at the Dread Lord with a look of fear mounting in her eyes.

"Tell my lovely kalla, Dread Lord, where you came from."

"I was sent by the lord king of Mestrane himself, milord."

Kailah's jaw was quivering as she covered her mouth with her palm.

"Why is he like that?" her voice was shaky. Torval noticed her face had gone pale.

The Dread Lord stood quietly, awaiting permission to speak from his new master.

"Yes, please do explain," said Torval.

"I am sworn to serve the lord of the shadows, the lord who has come to restore the days of the Dark Age to the realm. As his servant I am made to bear his royal image." He spoke without tone, staring blankly ahead. Kailah watched to see if he would blink. He never did.

"And why have you come this way then, to serve me?" Kailah could see how Torval had teed this one up. Torval approached her and watched her face with his own, inches from her. She dared not cry but she was so close.

"Because you are the chosen one for his grace. You have answered the calling by marching to your own birthright. You are the one I serve. Lord of the shadows, king of the realm, mounter of the great destrier that will topple the king of the steeds."

"You see, kalla, when I tell you that I am fearful. I am not fearful of a man. I am fearful of myself." He whispered the words into her ear now. She stood with her eyes crossed and her body convulsing. Torval leaned in beside her, waiting for the faintest trace of a sob.

"Don't you dare do it," Torval's tone was cold now. Kailah couldn't hold it. Her sob was drowned out. A man had entered the tent, two men trailing behind him.

"How dare you intrude on my personal quarters; I should have you hanged!" Torval was enraged. The three men paid no heed.

"Lord Rainblood, it appears that Thane has become angry with your leadership. He claims you are scared and lazy, and that is why you are hiding away in your tent. He means to challenge you. Usurp you. You must act quick; he has been gathering followers by the hour. These men don't mean to die out here, my lord. I'm sorry."

The one who had entered the tent first had not given as much as a glance to the Dread Lord, but his eyes finally flickered onto him. He still stood sideways to him, facing the kalla who stood in the corner.

The guard registered the look of terror upon Kailah's face and then glanced again at the Dread Lord whose face had turned to face him. He lost his breath and his mouth opened in a wide oval. The two guards behind him looked away and had to hold their spokesman up to prevent him from feinting.

Torval walked past the Dread Lord to face the man who had given news, "I will let you live, only because I mean for you to send word to Thane. Tell him to pick his best man, and I will pick mine, and they will fight to the death. If his man wins, I will bend the knee and offer mine own head. If my man is victorious, well, he will just have to see how that all plays out." A dark grin had spread over his face.

"Ye—yes, milord. Of—of course." He spun away and dashed from the tent with the two guards trailing behind him.

Torval turned to the Dread Lord, "Get suited up. It's time you prove your worth to me."

The large semi-circle was marked off by men in fully plated amor and spears held out before them to keep the two men away from the edges of the arena. On one end of the semi-circle stood Thane, leader of the resistance that had begun to form. His men had vowed to return their loyalties to Torval should Thane falter.

Should Thane prevail, it was said that Torval would be flayed and dismembered and a messenger would ride his remains to the gates of Raideth and given to his brother as a gift. Torval had no doubt it had been an idea of Thane's. He was always driven by cruelty. It was a characteristic that had made Thane a seasoned warrior and a strong option to have at your side as Torval had done.

Torval had offered for Thane to choose a champion but instead he opted to fight himself. He didn't trust anyone else to fight the way he did. Torval had not blamed him for that. And yet, Torval watched as his man stood at the other end of the half circle.

The Dread Lord stood in armor that fit tightly around his body. The plating was detailed in a pattern that no one had ever seen outside Mestrane. The armor was black with finely detailed golden trim that detailed a simple three-ring circle upon his chest. The Dread Lord bore a set of duel swords, both notably shorter than your typical longsword, but certainly longer than a dagger. He whirled both his blades around in his hands as he faced his opponent, who himself bore a battle axe. Black, leather gloves covered the Dread Lord's hands.

The Dread Lord adjusted his spiked helm that covered his whole face. The mouth funneled into the shape of a snout with the nose protruding to a sharp point. His looks like a bee, but an angry bee at that, thought Torval.

"Let it begin!" shouted Torval's guard. Torval sat upon a trebuchet that overlooked the entire fight below him. It was one of two trebuchets they had brought. It had only arrived the day prior as it had taken a large sum of men to slowly roll the giant machine across the desert.

The two men skirted around cautiously. Thane held his shield in one hand and his axe jutted out over the rim of his round shield. The Dread Lord side shuffled slowly, rubbing the sharp of his blades against each other, rattling the steel loudly.

It was Thane who lunged first. He relented the protection of his shield to land a hard blow down upon the Dread Lord. The Dread crossed his blades into an "X", blocking the strike and returning the favor with clever handiwork. Thane struggled to keep up with attempts from two different swords. The Dread Lord advanced on him at a wlaking pace and Thane backed up busily, his shield took a battering.

He nearly backed his way into a spear of one of the guards standing to mark the perimeter. Torval laughed as the knight prodded his spear forward to try and catch Thane on the back but Thane moved just in time. Torval watched on from above on his trebuchet. The swarm of over two thousand men jeered on loudly.

The two danced back and forth, neither covering ground on each other now. It seemed a fair fight. Thane landed a harsh slash from wide and caught the Dread Lord unsuspecting. He dropped one of his swords and Thane quickly stepped on it to prevent his recovery. It was a mistake.

The Dread Lord dropped to a tuck roll and slashed wildly at Thane's leg as he landed the role, before leaping out of range before Thane could jam his shield into his head. Thane cried out in anguish, peering down at the side of his leg. He rued the decision not to put any kind of protection on his lower half, but he always preferred to feel free than to be slowed down by clunky silver.

The Dread Lord still only had the one sword. Thane advanced on him now with a heavy limp. He threw down his shield and picked up the Dread Lord's sword. Advancing on the Dread Lord he slammed his axe into him. The Dread Lord blocked it, but it sent him stuttering back. He almost ran into the blade at the end of the spear pointed towards him, turning to snatch the spear from the guard and hurling it towards Thane.

The spear glanced by his face but continued its flight across the semi-circle and landed in the foot of an onlooker who screamed morbidly.

Thane and the Dread Lord continued, sparring and blocking and parrying. The Dread Lord lowered his sword and remained very still suddenly. Thane cocked his head, confused. The Dread Lord nodded a head towards his hand that held his sword.

"Oh, you want this, do you? HA." A cocky smile came over Thane. He screamed with his axe held over his head and came onto his opponent. The Dread Lord moved aside, evading the harsh cut. The Dread Lord nodded once again at Thane's sword hand. Thane glanced at it finally. He saw smoke rising from the hilt.

"What—what is this? Your cheater...you liar!" Thane turned on Torval from up on his trebuchet.

"I demanded a fair fight, and this is what I get?" He glanced down at his hand again, having dropped the sword. His hand began to turn green, then brown, then black. He bellowed from the top of his lungs as his hand began to shrivel and char.

The Dread Lord picked up the fallen sword with his hand, covered by the black, leather gloves. The hilt appeared black and simple—like any other sword he might have seen. He rubbed the edge of the blades together again as the black poison marched up Thane's arm. He squealed in anguish before the Dread Lord swiped his whole arm clean off.

"Mercy," said the Dread Lord, "your arm is off, the poison cannot kill you now."

Thane only looked at him in pure agony. His body convulsed as he stood on his knees. The crowd had grown oddly quiet.

"But I still can," and the Dread Lord crossed his swords on either side of his knee and swiped Thane's head clean off. The Dread Lord picked up Thane's head by the hair, and raised it to the sky, victorious. Torval's men could only watch on in awe.

Torval stood from his place above all of his men, shouting for all to hear.

"Today marks the day that the Dread Lord, sworn to my crown, messenger of the Dark Lord himself, reigns victorious over Thane the Traitor. Let it be remembered what happens when you mess with fate, because it is I, Torval Rainblood of Raideth, that do swear to sit the Mestrane throne, and eventually the realm of men."

The Dread Lord removed a cloth from his waste and cleaned both his blades until they were spotless of blood. Thane's body sat beside him spewing blood like a fountain from where his head has sat. He took his time returning the Twins to their scabbards, eventually giving a deep bow.

"May I present to you, the Dread Lord, Lord Dalian Dagnar."