CHAPTER I The sun's early morning rays split the Eastern Peaks of Nordenland like bright banners through a column of rigid soldiers. The soft golden light burned triumphantly over the tall pines of a beautifully green forest and glanced a silent echo off a deep blue lake. The lake shimmered silently as a comforting breeze pushed against its glass like surface forming tiny wakes that lapped on the shore. The lake stretched out for miles, but appeared small in comparison to the large pines surrounding it. The pines were immense in height, some nearly a hundred feet tall and five feet thick at the base. They rose up like massive wooden giants, ageless guardians frozen in time. Serenity filled the morning, not unusual for Autumn turning Winter. Light splashing of the wakes against the shore of the lake marked the only static sound. Infrequently, an occasional rustling in the brush of a squirrel or other small animal readying itself for the forthcoming winter would intrude on the stillness. The sun rose higher above the peak shedding its soft light on the shores and embracing the western side of the pines. A bird chirped and a deer ventured from the safety of the forest to the edge of the lake, ears twitching, listening for any sign of danger. A sleek coat and trim legs hinted that the deer was young, perhaps two years old, and white patches on its hindquarters marked it to be a doe. Though young, she was not inexperienced and paused twice in the unprotected open area between the water and the trees to make certain she did not become feast for man or other wild animal. Hunters from the nearby town of Aubon would often frequent the forest and prowling wolves were not uncommon this far north. Apparently satisfied that neither presented itself, she continued to the edge of the lake and drank from the cool, clear water. Like a ripple across the calm lake, the breeze subtly changed. The change was more than in the wind, however, it was a feeling, and the doe sensed it immediately. Her muscles tensed and her ears perked sharply. She cocked her head and sniffed the air searching for danger. For a moment silence fell upon the forest as if in expectation of a great occurrence. It remained so briefly and then vanished like a forgotten thought. The typical sounds returned and the doe returned to her drinking. A faint cry broke briefly through the trees and the doe lifted her head and cocked her ears in the direction of the sound. Somewhat spooked, she fidgeted back from the water, all the while stretching with her senses, knowing that something lurked in the forest.. Then the feeling came again, only this time stronger and with a hint of animosity. Not hesitating, the deer bolted for the trees leaped a small bush, dodged another one scraping her flank, and flew into the forest like a frightened bird. Again the area around the lake went strangely silent all sounds seemingly snuffed out. The breeze ceased altogether. About a hundred yards south of where the doe entered the thicket a cloaked and hooded figure stumbled out of the trees and onto the shoreline, tripping and falling roughly to the ground. Trembling arms shot out from under the cloak blocking the fall, while dark hands scraped on the sharp stones imbedded in the grassy beach. Struggling to its knees the form hunched over in pain, rocking in an anguish more than any physical torment. A large hood covered any facial features and the cloak covered its body from the shoulders to below the knees, but the hands remained uncovered. Fists clenched and the knuckles turned white with pressure. Its body shook violently for several moments and then subsided. The hands disappeared back under the cloak. Rising to its feet, the cloaked figure looked back toward the trees and turned north limping along the shoreline. Staggering back and forth like a drunken man the cloaked person made its way along the lake shore. Booted feet scraped the ground kicking up dirt, rocks and grass. Sunlight cut into the open hood revealing a bearded chin and a mouth tightly closed, but shadows hid all other features. The figure continued, now more than a quarter mile from where it had exited the woods. A loud crash erupted a half mile south on the same shore from where the hooded person stood. A large stallion smashed through the trees and out onto the shore line, branches fell about it and stones scattered as it ground to a halt. The horse's rider, a huge warrior clad in chain mail and a helm that resembled a tiger's head, reined it in. Turning at the sound, the cloaked figure looked toward the warrior. It stared unmoving briefly, then slowly pulled back the hood and removed the cloak, tossing it in a bundle to its side. A man stood where the cloaked shape once had. Not old, crippled, or bulky, like the cloak portrayed, but young strong and agile. A close cropped beard covered his face and his hair was long and straggly. His deep blue eyes whispered of fear, but his countenance was rigid and undaunted at the sight of the warrior. He stood unarmed and wounded. Two large gashes in his right side left stains of dried blood on his shirt and a broken arrow tip protruded from his right leg. Black clothing adorned the man. His shirt held tight about the shoulders and arms, but because of the cuts in his side it hung loosely about the waist. His dirty pants lay snugly against the lower leg, but baggy on the thighs and torn where the arrow penetrated. Heavily worn from travel, black leather boots covered his feet and calves. Sitting down exhausted the young man awaited the unavoidable confrontation about to take place. He eased his back against a bush behind him and released a sigh of pain. Four more horses burst through the trees, their riders reining them in behind the first. All were warriors garbed in the same armor as the first and wore tiger like helms. They had battle axes strapped to their backs and broadswords hung from their hips, delivering a grim spectacle next to the blue lake. Apparently the first rider led the group and stretched forth his arm, pointing toward the black clad man. The others waited anxiously for his command, the muscles of their horses quivering in anticipation, but instead of charging the leader reached down and clasped a medallion that hung at his chest. It was ebony black with ancient inscriptions inscribed onto the smooth surface. He held it tightly with one powerful hand and a soft red glow began to encompass both the medallion and his hand. As the medallion grew brighter, the leader's eyes appeared to glow red beneath the masked helm. Soon his entire head emanated a faint reddish glow making him seem out of focus in the morning light. Reaching out, the huge warrior touched each of his comrades' weapons. When his hand met metal, their weapons glowed bright red for several seconds before returning to a normal, dense gray. Faster than it had come the glow dissipated from the leader, except for his eyes that remained fluorescent red. For an instant the morning remained calm, quiet. Then they charged. Screaming out like banshees in the night the five warriors rushed forward. Notwithstanding they were better than a quarter mile from their target, they drew their weapons with fervor, grinning with the anticipation of wolves to a lame deer. Calmly, the black clad young man sat watching the oncoming foe, knowing this would be his stand. He shrugged dismally, turned his head and spat. Pushing all thoughts of escape from his mind, he fell into deep concentration. Sweat began to build on his face, his brow furrowed and his eyes closed, as he forced the fear from his mind and fatigue from his body. He rolled his head from side to side looking not unlike a puppet in a slight breeze. The five came on. The young man's body began to shake with the overcoming of his mental and physical wounds, but then went still. He opened his eyes slowly squinting in the light. The galloping horses were now just a few hundred yards away not slowing in the least. The young man saw the red glow of the foremost rider's eyes and raised his eyebrows in wonder. He came to his feet swiftly, bringing his arms straight out in front of him. Palms facing out, the man on foot looked as though he would attempt to hold the riders at bay with his bare hands. Indeed, all but leader slowed his mount to a trot, then stopped altogether. The four riders looked around in a daze. Perplexed at the thought of attacking an unarmed man they lowered their weapons. Noticing the dilemma of his comrades the leader reined in his great stallion and turned on them. His eyes glowed brightly. "Attack!" He roared, his voice a booming thunder in the stillness. The others snapped out of their bewilderment, but made no motion to resume the charge. "Your weapons! Raise your weapons!" The Leader called, pointing at their weapons. The swords and battle axes glowed red like before and the spell broke. The warriors raised their weapons and shouted with anger at the fax pas. They would not be fooled again. Rising up on its hind legs, the leader's stallion spun in place and crashed down; launching into a gallop. The other, now maddened, warriors followed close behind and the distance between the combatants quickly closed. Knowing that his was a formidable opponent, the leader would not risk any more delays. He would ride up and cut the other down with a single blow. It was only a matter of seconds. The man in black felt differently. At the failing of his earlier attempt to botch the attack, the young man brought his hands together, interlocking all but his forefingers. He raised his clasped hands up above his head and brought them down pointing at the leader. Then at the leader's horse. Weapons gleamed in the sunlight as the great warrior closed to within fifty yards of the young man. The thunder of horse hoofs filled the air. Just as it appeared the warrior would trample the young man the leader's great stallion balked and skidded to a halt sending the, fully armored warrior hurling over its head and crashing in a heap on the gravel-grass shoreline. The other riders reined their horses around the stallion and their fallen leader, bringing them to a stop in a half circle twenty feet from the black clad man. Rising to his feet as if he had merely tripped the large warrior stood. He reached over his shoulder and in one smooth motion drew a massive sword from its solid black sheath strapped to his back. The sword's handle and blade were dark black like the medallion. The blade gleamed menacingly in the sunlight. Slowly, he advanced on the other... ********** "Did you see that," whispered an excited youth, barely able to contain his voice from being heard. "How could I miss it, Pahl" replied his companion, just as quietly. "But he should have broken his neck at that get up. Flyin' off that horse like that." Pahl moved closer to the edge of the thicket, sliding on his stomach and pulling himself with his hands. "And he got up like he meant to take the fall." "Quit moving around. You're going to give us away." "Look at that sword," continued Pahl heedless of the other's prudence. "All black like soot. You ever seen a sword like that in Aubon? Or Gahlen for that matter." "Let's hope he doesn't decide to use it on us," was the candid reply. "Come on Pahl, we had better be off." "We can't go now, Derek," stated Pahl, looking at his companion as if he should have known better. "What of the man in black. He is unarmed." Derek was behind and to the right of Pahl, squatting on his knees and looking through the brush. He turned and looked at Pahl. "What are we supposed to do? Charge out with our hunting knives and short bows and cut them to kindling? Those are trained fighters Pahl, not forest rabbits. And when was the last time you saw fully armed warriors out here?" Pahl frowned at his friend's lack of enthusiasm. But actually, he had not seen any warriors travel through Aubon much less ones as ferocious as these appeared. The only fighters he had seen were free lance mercenaries in the city of Gahlen, but Gahlen was more of an Eastern trading town than a city. The two young men were from Aubon, out hunting the lake area. They had left their village before sunrise, but it took a few hours to reach the lake. They had not seen much game yet and were target practicing on trees and bushes when they heard the galloping horses and came to the edge of the thicket. They had arrived just before the large warrior fell from his mount. Pahl glanced up at Derek. "Look," he said. "The warrior is more than a match for that man in black, and I don't fix on lying here and watching him get killed." His face was a mask of determination in an effort to force his companion into action. Indeed, the warrior bore down on the wounded man, eyes ablaze and black sword held out menacingly. The young man did not move, nor did he retreat, but stood calmly in front of his opponent, arms hanging loosely at his sides. Seated atop their mounts, the four warriors waited. Without warning, the large leader swung his black sword in an arc. It came around in a blur of speed that would surely finish the man in black. He would be hewn in half like a stick before a sharpened ax. Amazingly, as if anticipating the move, the young man jumped straight back letting the blade cut through empty air with a swish. Recoiling from the miss the warrior brought the sword above his head in a small circle and swung it down in a forward lunge. Again the young man dodged the blow, diving to his right into a roll and back onto his feet. The large warrior moved in front of the agile man in black and brought up his sword. His voice boomed out with a strange hollow ring, "It is useless to continue your weak resistance, Retter. Your tricks will not help you now." He reached his right hand down to clasp the medallion and moved a step closer. The man in black watched him warily. His eyes fixed on the black sword. "Did you think that the Warlord would send someone weaker than the last? I will finish you like I have the others!" Emphasizing his point he lunged forward swinging his sword in a wild frenzy. The young man dodged the first two passes. Almost quicker than the eye could follow he leaned and bent out of the way of the terrible blows. At first it appeared he was too quick for his massive armor clad opponent, but with skill born from a harsh land of death and battle the warrior soon tired his prey. A short distracting feint with his leg followed by a harsh upper cut, caught a glancing blow on the agile young man's shoulder, knocking him sprawling into a bush. Blood poured down the young man's left arm as he tried to untangle himself from the bush. Desperately he crawled away as the warrior moved closer to finish him. Sweat and blood now drenched his black shirt. Severely wounded and tired, he knew now that he would not last against this attacker and backed away from the warrior searching vainly for escape. Moving in behind their leader the four other warriors closed on horseback. The leader, now stood right above the blood stained man, and raised his sword to deal the mortal blow. As he did, two tipless arrows struck the flanks of the closest rider's mounts. The arrows did not penetrate, but the harsh sting made the horses bolt. Riders, caught ill prepared for the sudden lurch, fell to the ground with a brutal thump. The two horses barreled into the leader from both sides, sending him flying into the same bush from which, the young man had previously crawled, banging his helmed head on stone. The sword flew out of his hand and stuck into the sand ten feet away. Startled by the bolting horses the other two horses began to buck, but then they too were smitten across the flanks by another assault of tipless arrows. Following the first two horses they bolted, sending their riders to the ground and trampling the ones who had previously fallen. Amazed, the man in black rose to his feet and looked about. He could see that the large leader had been knocked unconscious as well as two other warriors. The horses were still galloping down the shoreline except for the large stallion, and the two conscious warriors were groggily shaking their heads trying to figure out what had occurred. Then he saw them--two young men waving toward him from the trees. He shook his head, clearing it. They couldn't be more than seventeen or eighteen. What were they doing here and why had they saved him? "Come on!" One of them shouted. The man in black needed no more encouragement. Quickly he limped over to the stallion, grabbed the reins and with a wince of pain swung into the saddle. He kicked the sides of the horse and charged into the two men who were slowly coming to their feet. Knocking them to either side, he turned the horse around and galloped to where the two young men impatiently waited. In a matter of seconds he had ridden to where the others stood holding their bows. Without hesitation they jumped on the stallion behind the man in black. Kicking the horse's sides the man guided it into the forest at a trot. Soon they were in the forest dodging in and out of trees and bushes that seemed to buzz by even at this slow speed. "There is a small trail about a half mile south-east," said one of the young men. "Our horses are tethered at the edge of it." "What is your name?" Asked the man in black as he reined the stallion to the right barely missing a tree trunk and almost dislodging the others. "Um...my name is Pahl," replied the young man who had previously spoken, "and this is my brother Derek. Well, actually he's my adopted brother, but still my brother all the same." "Pahl, we don't even know the man," whispered Derek in foreboding. Derek looked older than Pahl with straight brown hair and a muscular build. While Pahl, only a few months younger looked more like a year or two because of his curly blond hair and slim stature. Saying nothing more for a few minutes the three concentrated on skirting the bushes and trees and staying on the horse. The big stallion could accommodate them but only with difficulty and even after a quarter mile it began to sweat. When they slowed to a walk Derek said, "We need to stop and bandage your shoulder. That was a nasty blow he gave you. And that arrow tip must come out." "We'll stop when we reach your horses," replied the wounded man. "Until then keep a watch for the five. They must not catch us." "No one could catch us now!" Exclaimed Pahl, a big smile crossing his face. "Did you see how we disarmed them. It will be hours, perhaps days before they round up those spooked horses." "Don't be too sure," came the reply. The man in black was not at all certain of how long it would be before the five were back on his trail, but he knew it would not be long. He started to say something more, but instead fell forward onto the horses neck dropping the reins. Pahl, who sat behind him, held him from falling while Derek jumped off the horse and grabbed the reins. Pahl lowered the man down from the horse with the help of Derek and they set him against a tree. Derek delicately pulled the shirt off and applied several pieces of cloth from both of their shirts to the wounded man's shoulder, binding the makeshift bandage in place with leather string used for tying game. Then they did the same with his side wound, but left in place the arrow in his leg. The local healer in Aubon would have to take care of that. Leaning back the young men grinned at each other, feeling like they had really accomplished something worthwhile. They had felt miserable for most of the summer working at a fur trade in Aubon with Pahl's family. Derek's parents had been killed by bandits two years previous when a caravan heading to the capital became targeted. Armed mercenaries accompany most caravans and a volunteer group of hunters called the Eastern Brigade routinely patrol the roads. Under the command of the Duke of Gahlen, this force kept raiders and robbers under check. Since the death of Derek's parents Pahl's family had adopted him. The two young men did everything together, including the hard chores. The work at the trade had occupied most of their summer. Derek took a piece of cloth and after dampening it applied it to the unconscious man's face and forehead. He wiped away the dirt and sweat and checked the bandages. They did not look good. "Pahl," said Derek. "This man has a serious fever. There's something more wrong with him than the wounds." Pahl didn't have a chance to answer. The man awoke with a start and looked at Derek and Pahl and then at the bandages. He touched the wounds lightly with his finger tips and then attempted to get up but to no avail--his strength all but depleted. "How long have I been out?" Asked the man and without waiting for a reply he said, "Help me up. We've got to go." The brothers looked at each other, concern mirrored on their young faces. "Help me up," repeated the wounded man. "I think you should rest a bit more," said Pahl. "And I think you should help me up before my friends arrive and there is no longer a need," said the man with a weak smile. Lifting the man to his feet, the two brothers helped him over to the stallion and into the saddle. They picked up their bows and pouches and secured them to the horse behind the rider. "Who are you?" Asked Derek genuinely curious as to the man's humor in such a devastating situation. Had he been subject to such an attack he would be anything but humorous, much less eager to ride horseback with an arrow in his leg. But the man didn't seem to mind and that amazed him. "I am many things," responded the man. He paused contemplating how he might tell them who he was. "Yes, many things," he repeated. "None of which you are likely to understand. But if you are asking for a name, I am called Hawk." "Hawk," said Pahl. "You mean Hawk the Wanderer?" "The same," said Hawk. Derek gave Pahl a questioning look so Pahl explained his knowledge of the man. "A Northern Dwarf mentioned you when I bought some boar skins from him. He said you helped him out in a pinch one time. Said you were pretty much a loner with no friends." The man raised his eyebrows at that last comment and Pahl thought that he might have been too bold. Then he smiled and Pahl's tension eased. "Must have been that good for nothing Podez," sneered Hawk sarcastically. "Haven't seen him in a while." Hawk leaned forward in the saddle fighting off the pain he was feeling. Derek took the reins and started leading the horse through the wood, while Pahl walked along side Hawk making sure he didn't fall off. Despite Pahl's earlier confidence that they could take their time the need of the Aubon Healer demanded swiftness. Hawk's wounds, despite his attitude were severe.