"Good luck on the journey north, you two." Fenwick says. "Two of my riders will

accompany you on the journey. We can't have you two fight in the state you are in. Again I

recommend you two to stay here for a few more days!"

"It is imperative we leave now, even though I cannot explain why yet." Gilbert says.

"Thanks for the help you provided for us."

"After what you two did..." Fenwick says. "Anyway, glad to be of service. I hope to see you

two alive a few month from now. Good luck again."

"Commander!" A young soldier yells running towards the group. "A group of armed men

are at the north gates asking for you."

"We are headed there now soldier." Fenwick says. "Tell them we I will be there shortly."

"Yes, sir!" The soldier says, running of again.

"The boy must be running all day." Xandrien says, laughing.

"The exercise is good for him." Fenwick replies. "Anyway, let's start moving. I will

accompany you to the north gate. From there my men will take over."

"What do you suppose it is all about." Gilbert asks as the horses start walking.

"Probably just some bandit group begging for shelter from the Goblins." Fenwick replies. "It

has been awhile since we saw the last group come in. We usually allow them in and toss

them into some cell. We can't have bandits roaming the streets, but we can't let them be

eaten by Goblins either. It is up to them which fate they prefer."

"You let convicts chose between imprisonment and being eaten alive?" Gilbert asks. "How

many decide to leave after arriving?"

"Not many, but there have been a few cases where they left again." Fenwick replies. "At

one point we could hear their screams as night fell. Not pleasant in the least, I can tell you

that much."

"So, what is with the leg?" Xandrien asks, pointing at the wooden structure attached to the

commander's right knee.

"The boys at the workshop tinkered it together for me." Fenwick says. "Walking is still

weird, but at least I can stand on my own two legs. It even has a metal brace, so I can use

it for kicking."

They arrive at the gate where a group of around ten men have gathered. Most of the carry

spears, but two carry swords on their belts. An eleventh man sits on a horse a couple of

metres away from the group. They wear leather armour made for the Oliron garrison. As

soon as they see Gilbert standing in the cart, they move into action.

"Traitors!" A man yells. "Kill them all!"

The group quickly kills the soldiers at the gate and charge towards the cart. The man on

the horse rides out of the town.

"What the..." Fenwick says. "Go! I will cover your escape!"

He rides alongside the cart as Gilbert steers it past the left flank of the group. The

commander swings his sword as he rides by slashing one of the soldiers. The men give

chase and one of them throws his spear hitting Fenwick's horse in the neck. As it falls

forward Fenwick jumps landing of both feet before falling over to the right. He quickly gets

back up and faces the men. They slowly surround Fenwick.

"Go!" He yells as Gilbert halts the cart. "I've got this!"

Neither Gilbert nor Fenwick is convinced by this statement. Gilbert grabs the leashes and

steers the cart through the gate. He is quickly joined by two men on horses as they ride

north.

Fenwick is completely surrounded now. With his long sword in both hands he stands ready

for the attack.

"Come on then!" He yells. "Who is first. I am only a crippled old man! How much harm do

you think I will cause?"

Behind Fenwick a man thrusts his spear forward. Fenwick sees this and with a fluent move

he arcs his sword through the air hitting the spear on the side. The tip flies clean off.

Fenwick steps closer to the man and lets go of his sword with one hand.

"As commander of the garrison I must warn you though." He says as he slams his

armoured fist into the man's face. The man flies backwards, limp. "I am the toughest fighter

in town. Back of now, or suffer the consequences."

This is of course a bluff and Fenwick knows it. Without his leg his combat capabilities are

limited and there are eight of them. Nonetheless the group seems shaken. They just saw

their comrade get knocked out in a single punch after all.

"You do not scare me." One of the men with a sword yells. "I am the leader of Oliron's

expeditionary forces. I challenge you to a duel, old man."

"Ah, you are still new to your command I see." Fenwick says. "A recent promotion? I

accept your duel! My name is Joshua Fenwick. I greet you as an equal opponent."

"Enough with the etiquette, old man." The captain says. "I see no point in giving my name

to a man who is soon to be deceased."

"No honour accompanies you then?" Fenwick says. "Your gravestone will be empty then."

"And yours will says you died in the service of a traitor!" The captain yells, getting ready to

attack.

The soldiers back up to give the two men more space. Fenwick swings his sword in a wide

arc in front of him. The captain attempts to block the attack, but he is flung backwards by

the sheer weight of the sword. He quickly climbs to his feet.

Both men look at each other for a few seconds before they charge again. Again Fenwick

arcs his sword in front of him, but this time the captain ducks, avoiding the blow. He thrusts

his sword forward at Fenwick's chest. Fenwick lands his sword in the ground next to him

and lets go with his right hand. He grabs the captain by the wrist and pulls him past. The

captain goes flying, before he lands face first on the cold ground.

Fenwick pulls at his sword, but it has planted itself too deep into the ground. The captain

climbs to his feet and laughs.

"So this is how you end?" He says. "Defenceless. Your sword stuck in the ground. How

does it feel to be beaten. He charges forward, sword ready to strike.

Fenwick stops pulling on his sword and gets ready. The captain swings his sword down,

but Fenwick dodges leaving his left foot standing. The captain brings the sword back up in

a swing directed at Fenwick. Fenwick lifts up his left leg and places it in the swords path. It

slams into the wooden leg, implanting itself in the iron brace.

"No blood?" The captain says confused. "How did you..."

Before the captain finishes, Fenwick grabs him by the back of his neck with and punches

the captain in the stomach. He follows up with multiple blows to the face and a few to the

chest. Before long the captains life is vanquished.

"Captain!" One of the soldiers yells, rushing to his leaders aid.

The garrison now moves into action. The duel lasted long enough for some brave young

men to arrive. The soldiers are flanked and slaughtered.

"Victory is ours men!" Fenwick yells, while sitting on the ground.

The men cheer.

Two days have past since Gilbert and Xandrien left Kelna they have just passed the

crossing leading back to the city of Oliron and are still headed north, to the bigger towns

present there. The Goblin presence in the north is lower than in the south. Because of this

the farmer are still producing food their and provide for the city of Oliron.

"Soldier?" Xandrien says. "How capable is your commander with that sword of his?"

"He is the best of us, sir." One of the escorts says. He has very short hair under a leather

cap. He is fairly tall and has blue eyes. "He used to be in the garrison at Oliron, until one

day he joined the expeditionary force as their leading officer. That is where his training

comes from. He trained the rest of us when he joined the garrison."

"How come he left the garrison?" Gilbert asks.

"When his group arrived in our town, a group of bandits was raiding it." The other escort

says. He is extremely tall and has long black hair underneath his cap. His eyes are brown

of colour. "He ordered his men to aid us."

"His entire unit got slaughtered because of it." The first escort says. "Later some townsfolk

found him in the dirt next to the road. He was wounded, but alive. He decided to not return

to the capital and so he staid with us and eventually he became our leader."

"So what are your names?" Gilbert asks. "Sorry for not asking earlier, but days have been

though."

"Don't mind it." The first soldier says. "My name is Marc. The other guy back there is called

Bram. We are one of the few Calvary troops present in Kelna. That is also why we are

better equipped and have hardened leather armour on."

"You guys have a cavalry?" Xandrien exclaims. "Why didn't you use it against the Goblins

the other day?"

"We weren't prepared for any combat at the time." Bram says. "We ended up on the wall,

just like every other soldier in the city. Not to mention the fact that charging a horse into a

herd of Goblins is moronic to say the least. Not one piece of the rider or the horse would

be left after entry."

"Fair point..." Xandrien mumbles. "Still, why do you guys have a cavalry?"

"To be honest," Bram says laughing. "I think it was more of a way to relieve some of the

commander's boredom than to actually train an element of defence."

"Not that we can complain." Marc says. "We have access to the best equipment in town,

on top of the fact that we get to ride a horse."

"Let's have the horses rest here for a while." Bram suggest, riding up to a tree and binding

his horse to it.

Marc quickly manages to light a fire and starts roasting a piece of bread above it.

An hour passes before they prepare to leave the resting spot. They would ride for a few

more hours before they would stop for the night. Then only three days would be remaining

before they reach the next town.

"You hear that?" Marc suddenly says.

"Yeah, everyone hide!" Bram yells.

Gilbert runs to the trees while Bram and Marc are carrying the still limp Xandrien. They

hide in the bushes. Twenty men on horses arrive. They all wear the leather Oliron garrison

outfit. Two of the men carry swords. The rest carry spears on their backs.

"Their supplies are still here." One of them says. "They can't be far. Search for them."

All men with spears dismount and start walking towards the trees.

"The officers are staying on horseback." Marc mumbles, annoyed.

"Get ready." Bram says. "Gilbert, carry Xandrien to the cart and move ahead of us. We will

make sure we aren't followed."

Just as the first men reach the trees the group starts to run. Marc and Bram run towards

their horses. The suddenness of their charge confuses the searching men and they slowly

move into action. The officers draw their swords. One heads towards Gilbert and Xandrien,

the other towards Marc and Bram.

Bram turns towards the man drawing his mace from his belt. He charges at the horse

mace in hand. Just he before the impact he stops and jumps to the side, grabbing hold of

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the leashes swinging himself onto the horse and kicking off the rider. The rider tries to

swing his sword at Bram, but it is blocked by Bram's mace. He turns the horse around to

face the man.

"Some help here!" The man yells.

The other horseman that was headed towards Gilbert and Xandrien has now turned

around to save his comrade.

Bram gallops towards the man on the ground and swings his mace at him. The mace

connects with a loud crack as the man's skull is crushed.

The other man approaches bram, but Marc has already mounted his horse an drawn his

lance. The lance pierces deep into the man's chest crushing the man's hart. He flies off of

his horse.

"The first two men already arrived at their horses and are busy mounting them to avenge

their fallen leaders." Marc says.

Bram rides towards the group of horses and yells loudly, scaring them. The horses start to

move wildly tossing the climbing men off of them. Before long all of them are going.

Gilbert has tossed Xandrien on the back of the cart and is now driving it further north.

"Let's go!" Marc yells.

They ride after the cart, but a three men bust out of the bushes spears pointed forward.

The horses collide with the spears and are killed instantly. Both Marc and Bram are tossed

forward landing painfully in the dirt.

"Bad..." Marc says.

"Let's get another horse?" Bram suggests.

"One of those you scared away?" Marc replies.

More soldiers gather around the two.

"To the death then?" Bram suggests.

"Eighteen against two?" Marc says. "Sure!"

"I'll take the nine on the right." Bram says.

Both men part ways, Bram charging right and Marc charging left.

Marc crashes into one of the soldiers, who is clumsily making his way through the bushes.

Another soldier called out to him, but it was already too late. The man falls face first into

the dirt before being run trough by Marc long lance.

A man charges forward, yelling as he approaches Marc. As he pulls back his spear to

strike Marc spins around hitting the man in the face with the back of his lance. He then

spins his lance around and runs the man through. Another man followed marc's previous

opponent while another approaches from behind. Both men charge, spears pointed

forwards. Marc steps back towards his second opponent. At the last moment he jumps out

of the way and stabs the man behind him in the foot. He falls forward plunging his spear

deep into his ally. Marc finishes the man with a stab to the throat. The man dies, drowning

in his own blood.

Marc runs back to the road where he is meets four more soldiers. They attack as soon as

he is clear of the trees.

Marc knocks the spear of the right most men to the right and then he spins his lance so he

knocks the spear up. He then grabs to top of his lance and steps closer to the right most

man stabbing him in the neck. He is too close to the second man in the line for him to use

his spear, so the soldier drops his spear and punches Marc. Marc narrowly avoids the

punch and plants his knee in the mans stomach. The man falls forward. Marc grabs his

knife at slices the man's throat.

He steps forward towards the third man. The third man thrusts his spear down into the foot

of Marc. Marc grabs his lance and stabs the man in the mouth. As he falls he fourth man

slashes with his spear hitting Marc on the side of the head with the wooden shaft. Marc

stumbles sideways. He gets back up and throws his knife, hitting the man in the right eye.

He screams and falls to the ground.

"Two more." Marc says.

A cold feeling pierces his chest. A warm wet substance flows across Marc's chest. His

hands grow cold. As he looks down he sees the metal tip of a spear. He falls to his knees.

The owner of the spears walks around him and pulls back his head. He smiles at him. He

misses a significant amount of teeth. He pulls out a shining knife. He slowly brings it to

Marc's throat slowly. The cold metal pierces his skin as the world stops existing around

him.

Bram has the three enemies, who killed the horses, in front of him. He runs at them and

point their spears forward. Bram brings his mace down on the tip of the first spear driving it

into the ground. He then swings his mace at the spear to his right smashing the shaft. The

third man to Bram's left tries to move his spear out of the way, but Bram grabs it and tugs.

The man flies forward. Bram arches down his mace splashing the man's head. He then

steps forward swinging his mace to the right hitting the man in the middle on the side of

the head. His neck snaps and the man falls into the last man he falls over. Bram slowly

walks over to him, steps on his chest and plants his mace in the man's pleading face.

He runs down the road to search for more men to slay. He find one of the men tangled in a

bunch of vines and bushes. He quickly put him out of his misery.

Two soldiers are walking down the road after they tried to chase the horses. Upon seeing

Bram they clumsily start fumbling with their sheathed weapons. One tries to draw his knife

as he is lacking a spear. Bram charges and hits the man with the spear in the neck

splashing both Bram and the other soldier with blood. The other soldier charges, knife

pointed forward. Bram kicks the knife out of his hands and whacks the man on the shin.

His head flips over backwards.

Three more men come running behind Bram. He smashes the first man's spear and

punches him in the face. He falls into the second man who misses Bram because of it.

Bram hits him on the side of the head. The third man tries to run, but Bram quickly draws

his knife and throws it into the base of the soldiers neck.

He looks around and sees no one.

"Nine." Bram mumbles, walking back to the road.

A hissing noise fills the air. Bram feel an impact in his stomach. He falls backwards, the

shaft of a spear sticking out of him. He slowly feels his strength leave his arms.

"I got the other one!" A short man yells happily. He appears to be missing most of his teeth.

The man walks up to Bram and stops to his right. He triumphantly holds up Marc head.

A burst of strength fills Bram's arms. He lifts up his mace and smashes the mans foot. He

then takes his knife and hits him in the stomach.

"My win, you coward..." Bram mumbles absently. Bram falls over backwards, dead.

"You little..." The man says coughing up blood. "I will..."

The man keels over. He is loosing blood rapidly and before long he too is dead.

It has been another two days since Gilbert and Xandrien were separated from their escort.

The forests have been around them for all this time, but now it would seem that the trees

are thinning out. Without warning the dense forests open up into fields upon fields of grain.

The main source of the island's food opens up before them. On the horizon appears a city

even greater than Kelna. It might not have a wall, but this allows for the town to expand

into every direction without hinderance. Its residents are triple that of Kelna and

considering how the wheat is still present, the Goblins have not traveled this far north yet.

"Finally some proper sunlight!" Xandrien exclaims as he stretches himself. "It is good that I

have recovered enough to move again."

"Too bad it is setting though." Gilbert mumbles. "It would appear that we will not reach

Taere before nightfall."

"Details, Gilbert." Xandrien responds. "One more night out in the cold before we sleep in a

warm inn again. That sounds more like a reward than a punishment. How are your burns

doing?"

"A few nasty blisters remain, but other than that I feel fine." Gilbert says. "We will rest here,

before we end up sleeping where someone might chase us off. Too bad we can't have a

fire though..."

"True." Xandrien says. "It can't be helped though. If we end up burning all the wheat, we

will all starve."

The two men have a cold dinner after which Xandrien lets himself fall into the fields of

wheat. He closes his eyes and to his amazement he finds himself in a wooden cabin.

"Hello, Xandrien." A man in a black cloak says. "As you might have guessed, I am Axsel."

"I see..." Xandrien slowly says as he starts to realise what is happening.

"That was quite a trick you performed at Kelna." Axsel continues. "I must say that you

exceeded even my expectations. Annihilating the entire Goblin horde was something I

didn't even hold you capable of. Now would you please explain to me, how does magic

truly work?"

The takes Xandrien by surprise. Why would a god ask about the workings of magic.

"Why..." He starts.

"Just explain it to me." The fake god interrupts. "I will explain later."

"Alright..." Xandrien says. "A mage focusses on a point in space summoning interriftal

energy to that spot. That then reacts with the first type of energy it comes into contact

with."

"This is the reason magic leaves you utterly broken, Xandrien." Axsel says. "How do you

expect to control it if you don't know how it works. Now listen closely. Summoning magic

into a plain is far more complicated than you think. What you do is you separate a part of

your soul. This flows through your body to the point in space you desire. You have full

control over your own soul you see. The smaller someones soul, the easier it is for you to

control it."

"That is why Goblins burn in sunlight!" Xandrien says.

"Yes." Axsel says, annoyed. "Now the seperated piece of your soul is then used to rip a

hole in the fabric of space."

"What?" Xandrien says.

"You connect your world to the interrift." Axsel explains. "The bigger the hole, the faster

energy flows. That is the energy that reacts as your magic. How do you suppose you can

increase the size of the hole?"

"You add more energy?" Xandrien asks.

"Almost." Axsel says. "If you recklessly add more energy you simply destroy your own

soul, like you did in Kelna. You must focus. This will allow you to 'see' the flow of energy. If

you let your soul flow onto the edges, the spell will be the most efficient."

"Wait." Xandrien suddenly exclaims. "Doesn't this mean that all humans can use magic?"

"In theory..." Axsel says. "The only real problem is teach someone how to tear a piece off

of their own soul."

"It would seem that in this space you control all the interriftal energy." Xandrien says.

"That is a good observation." Axsel says. "We gods are different from your mortal souls.

We can let our energy mix with energy around us, allowing us the completely control the

way it behaves."

"And the fire is an illusion right?" Xandrien asks.

The fake god laughs.

"Yes, yes it is." Axsel says. "Have a good nights rest, Xandrien."

The cabin fades and Xandrien drifts into a deep sleep.