Ithuvell led and settled his kin in the southwest, remaining a loyal vassal unto Jadal. In less than three months, Ithuvell’s legend grew—a starving warrior who charged the battlefield to defeat the tyranny of Jadal’s father. When news reached Jadal that his victory was in equal share of another, his heart played threatening shivers to his pride. Thus, he began wielding a poignant distrust toward Ithuvell, the one he admired not too long before. Jadal’s judgment became shrouded further in scheming such plans to annihilate Ithuvell and the clans who stood with him. Yet Dual Edge’s tender heart ignited, wrathful in seeing the banners of Pronada march against him.

Numerous innocents of Ithuvell’s kin were trampled and bled before the warrior could muster his forces. But he did not meet Jadal out in the open, knowing all too well the tactics Pronada often set in place, and he awaited for Jadal to move his troops further north, away from the border settlements near the border and Shardfall Mountains, marching along the clearings of Wimder Forest.

Now Wimder was dense and filled with murk, covering the majority of Ithuvell’s domain. His people knew their way through much of the wood and rarely kept to the roads that had begun to dwindle from the days of Beomor, when kings journeyed to the coast, and cut much of Wimder’s lumber for ships and industry. Returning to the hands of the wilds remained the people’s desire, for times of new threats that were indeed imminently moving across their land. And while Ithuvell knew the advantages of the terrain, he knew fighting Jadal face-to-face would bring sudden demise to many more of his kin.

Archers from Ithuvell’s forces struck first, sending a few of Pronada’s troops to fall, crying out before embracing a motionless existence. Jadal commanded his troops to stand with shields raised, expecting an all-out ambush, but none came. For three days, Jadal put up with his forces being hit with projectiles, happening at random so that he could not predict a defense. At last, Jadal grew frustrated in seeing what he believed was a land of savages getting the better of him. He halted along the road approaching a sixty-league stretch of rolling, open grassland teeming with wildflowers.

Upon the first knoll he deemed worthy, Jadal commanded a fortress of timber be cut and placed, with two tall towers, one toward the north and the other to the south. The view from the towers stretched all over the plain, but not beyond the dense trees of Wimder that cut through the valley to the southwest. To the north, the roads were fully visible, and the treelines of Wimder now surrounded them. Many of Jahal's troops harvested lumber near the Shardfall Mountains and brought it forth to swiftly complete the palisade.

Remaining hidden, Ithuvell’s warriors watched as their enemy built a foothold within their domain. Several complained to Ithuvell and criticized him for not taking action. But Duel Edge would not be swayed to attack. Even when Jadal boasted his sacrifices in the night to Lokdur, the God of War—the screams of captivated children being offered up, Ithuvell did not fly to the rescue of his kin. Instead, he used Jadal’s actions to spark vengeance in the hearts of his warriors. For nothing so evil did Ithuvell believe in all the world was the man who stood in bright armor before his gaze.

“Should we fail and be defeated,” Ithuvell broke his silence one night to those who followed him. “The cries you have heard these many nights shall be like a pin-drop into a pool of water. Our kin will become like cattle waiting to be slaughtered to a false deity.”

“Why did we not attack when we had the chance?” one spoke harshly.

“None of you would have known what’s at stake,” Ithuvell swiftly struck back. “We are not going to war against any normal foe—this is Jadal Selnith, one with many great reasons as to why he is undefeated—we must overcome, and make what is impossible come to pass. Victory here means that his legend shall be tainted, and fear of him shall wane throughout the realms.”

“He has been building his fortress for many days and nights now,” another criticized. “Why did we allow such a thing when we should have destroyed him beforehand?”

“That fortress belongs to us,” Ithuvell boldly replied. “It will become ours. He has just been building it for us.”

“Those are either brave words or the words of a madman,” the first answered.

“Jadal’s weakness is his lover,” Ithuvell ignored the man. “I have kept my eye on Eshel Selnith. She bathes practically daily at the stream less than forty, maybe thirty paces away from the main encampment. She is heavily guarded then. However, on certain nights, she sneaks away to speak and become enlightened by her gods, bathing in the black of night.”

Every warrior around Ithuvell had grown intrigued, many even inspired by the cleverness of his words.

“I shall make myself appear like grass, and remain absolutely still during the day,” he continued. “Come darkness, I will move toward the pond and lie in wait for her, as a spider does so patiently for its prey. Once I have her, make sure to have fresh horses ready. For then I head for the bog near Dencrest. And there, I shall bound her the way Jadal has many of our children.”

Stolen story; please report.

“He will follow you, undoubtedly,” several warriors agreed.

“I know,” Ithuvell grinned. “Jadal and many will follow with him, leaving the fortress vulnerable. When he does, all of you will strike, strike without mercy—show them how savage you can be.”

Gods or no, Ithuvell’s plan appeared truly blessed, as dark clouds formed above, and he could move without fear of being spotted during the day. For the rain fell like a veil, covering the sight of his enemies, and did not let up for a moment. It took him half a day to make his way to the pond so near his enemies, and there, he slipped into the water like a serpent, hidden among tall reeds and brush. He waited in the cold, but his blood pulsed violently in thinking of his kin being slaughtered at Jadal’s hands, so he did not feel its sting. The third day came and went. Night fell with a blacker canvas than most had ever witnessed, and the rain steadily fell. Yet light from the moon barely peeked through to touch the waters and Ithuvell could see the silhouette of a woman along the bank, making her way into the water. She came close to the reeds but did not take notice of Ithuvell, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The skies began to thunder abruptly, and when lightning cracked above, he recognized Eshel, who suddenly noticed her capture. Before she could scream, he plunged his fist into her mouth and swiftly choked her unconscious. He waited for the next strike of lightning to pass before lifting the woman’s naked body over his shoulder and hauling her toward the treeline. He did his best to keep low, following a path of tall grass, not stopping to think too much if he was spotted. But he realized his mission had succeeded when his hand reached out to touch the nose of a fresh horse held by one of his followers. He bound Eshel’s hands and feet, placing her on the second mount, and sped off toward the Dencrest Mountains to the west.

Morning broke with the sounds of chaos and an enraged Jadal, who had received a message tied to an arrow discovered just in front of the fortress. He mustered as many as he could ride, every horse in his force after reading that Ithuvell challenged him to fight beneath the shadows of Dencrest in two days. Unless he showed, Ithuvell threatened the same fate would befall Eshel as the children he had sacrificed to his gods.

Ithuvell reached the bogs at the feet of Dencrest, where his soul remained in conflict. He did his best not to slit the woman’s throat after binding Eshel to a tree. He bound her sight and the use of her tongue in waiting for Jadal to arrive, hoping his hands would be patient for the right moment.

With all the horses gone, and the fortress guarded by unsuspecting troops, Ithuvell’s warriors moved in during the night. Several, who were agile and silent, climbed the walls and opened the gates. Jadal’s forces didn’t have enough time to arm themselves, and over two hundred were mercilessly slaughtered, including two of his generals. Their heads were severed and placed on pikes along the fortress walls and by the entrance of the gates. Ithuvell’s warriors sealed up the fortress and waited.

In the west, Jadal had hurried to meet Ithuvell’s decree. However, his heavily armored horses and troops could not proceed into the bog, as many became stuck and sank helplessly into the murking waters. He ordered all to dismount and leave the horses, and remove their heavy armor. All did as they were commanded, pushing onward, and not knowing what lay ahead. After sunrise, Jadal spotted a woman bound to a tree in the distance. She had been covered in white cloth, her eyes bound, and her mouth gagged. He removed the cloths and untied her. Eshel appeared only a little weak from hunger. Suddenly her capture appeared from mist and fog some distance away.

“You are either brave or stupid to be here alone,” Jadal called to Ithuvell. “I will surely cut out your heart and slaughter your kin for such an atrocity.”

“It is you who is the abomination!” Ithuvell spat. “You took innocents to sacrifice them to your gods. You came against me without provocation. You have committed war upon me with no reason except that of the evil spurring you on. It is you who are alone, Jadal.”

“You dare speak to me in such a way, you…” Jadal began.

“I do you dog!” Ithuvell interjected. “Let this be your warning. Should you enter these lands again, I will do more to you than what you did to your father. Let that sink in on your way home.”

“We’re not going anywhere!” Jadal exclaimed.

“March back to your fortress then,” Ithuvell grinned. “See what awaits you there. Or come after me in this bog and see what happens. But I know better than to cross swords with the likes of you.”

“So you have no honor,” Jadal scoffed.

“You are a fool, Pronadain,” Ithuvell sighed. “War holds no honor—and those who believe it does are destined to be destroyed by it.”

Ithuvell disappeared into the fog to the surprise of Jadal, and to many of his troops who shuttered in terror. For it seemed ghostly, a different kind of magic none of them ever witnessed. Jadal lost his gall to follow Ithuvell through a hellish landscape, but soon discovered hardship awaited him nonetheless. Every horse they had left behind lay either slit open on the ground or had been taken. The journey back to the fortress would be arduous indeed. Jadal hurried his troops along the way, fearing the worst had befallen his cause.

A sudden ambush befell them, as none of his troops were heavily armored nor upon horseback. Ithuvell had split his forces, one to take the fortress, the other remained patient till such a time to strike. They followed the road that became paved in crimson, fighting for every piece of ground they trekked. Though many of Ithuvell’s warriors fell, Jadal’s forces could not withhold the masses overwhelming them. By the time Jadal and his troops made it back to the fortress, they had lost over two-thirds of their number. And staring up at the heads along the fortress walls, Jadal knew he needed to flee. They fought all the way to the border, seeing Pronada in sight. Only thirty-eight of them remained including Jadal and Eshel.

Just as they crossed into Pronada’s realm, an arrow fell through Eshel’s breast. Jadal dropped to his knees, his face beating red, and tears streaming down his face. He peered upward in search of the bowman—who indeed kept his gaze upon Jadal. For it was Ithuvell who cried out, “Now we are even for the souls of my kin you took from me.” And to which the mass of warriors who stood with him cried out “vengeance!”