"Ryce’s Journey: Ch. 1" by Andrew C. Euston

The sun had barely risen over the deep russet of the mountain’s earthen exterior. A small village at the mountain’s base groggily awoke, a new day’s work requiring immediate attention. Fields lay freshly tilled and prepared to accept the seeds of new life that farmers bestowed upon them. The doors to an unpainted farmhouse opened lazily and a young man with jet-black skin stepped out. Hair of the purest white flowed past his shoulders. The young man was only nineteen but seemed to bear a burden much heavier than one his age deserved. His eyes were still accustomed to the darkness of night and he brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. The man’s ears were noticeably longer than normal and ended in points, indicating that he was not only Elven but he was a Dark Elf. After stretching and yawning, the man prepared to begin his daily fieldwork. A young woman stepped out through the open doorway. "Ryce, honestly, you have to remember to close the door," the woman grumbled, also rubbing her eyes as they came into contact with the morning luminescence. Ryce winced, realizing his folly.

"I’m sorry Elene. Its just that I have to get all the planting done today if I am to keep up with the other farmers," Ryce apologized.

"Just remember what happened when that family of raccoons got inside," Elene continued to grumble arms on hips. "They ate half of our food. Don’t forget that." Ryce only nodded in agreement with Elene’s point. Ryce figured that he should be more careful. He truly did dislike farm work, but unfortunately, working the land was the only life he knew. His other option had been working in the mine dragging copper around. Ryce’s Elven blood forced him to cringe at the thought of mine work and he held to his belief that mines should be left to the Dwarves. Still slow from the early awakening, Ryce gathered his seed and began his work.

The sun shone high in the spring sky. Mid day, Ryce thought, by the gods I am hungry. Leaving the field, Ryce placed his seed and tools on a bench under an awning on the side of the house. Stepping out of the harsh sun and into the cool shade refreshed him. Deciding that it was time for a well-deserved break in his toiling, Ryce stepped into his home, taking extra care to close the door. He walked into the small kitchen and gave Elene a small kiss on her cheek. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"In for an early lunch, eh? You think the fields will seed themselves?" Elene taunted. Ryce’s shoulders slumped a bit as he released a sigh. "Lunch is already set on the table, I expected you earlier," Elene said, smiling and returning the kiss. Taking his hand, Elene pulled the rejuvenated Ryce out of the kitchen. Minutes later, eating side by side at their oaken dinner table, Ryce and Elene were startled by a knock at their door. Curious as to whom their visitor would be, Ryce opened the door.

"Donovan?" Ryce asked with a puzzled look on his face, "What are you doing here?" Ryce had known Donovan ever since he was young. The two farmers were good friends and frequented the taverns together taking bets on who would have to go home first.

"I apologize for interrupting your meal…hey Elene!" Donovan poked his head into the doorway and gave Elene a wave. "Anyway, Ryce, there are many people coming into the village. They say that they are fleeing some sort of doomsday army…or something."

"Probably something those mages at that magic academy cooked up. You know how weird they get with their studies," Ryce said, dismissing the threat with a wave of his hand. "We still have both fortress Einholtz and Greshal between us and whatever they are running from. No need to worry ourselves over it."

"I’m not sure that I can put it down so easily. Some of the things those mages and knights spoke of give me the creeps," Donovan whispered to Ryce, not wishing to distress Elene.

"Wait just a second, did you say knights?" Ryce abruptly asked.

"Yeah, I did. Ryce," Donovan took an air of seriousness, "Knights do not just run. There is a force out there and if it has forced knights and mages to retreat so far north, than we must face the possibility that it may reach us."

"Sure, sure, and we will become Imperial knights like we planned in our youth. I will still have to see this army to believe it," Ryce said, again dismissing the grim warning.

"Ok then, I just felt that you should be informed of the recent news. I’ll be back at my farm planting, I suggest that you do the same." Donovan said. Turning to leave he gave Elene a goodbye wave.

"Say hi to Rheda for me Donovan," Elene called from the table. Ryce gave his friend a final wave before shutting the door and returning to his place at Elene’s side. The meal was finished with little more conversation and was sealed with a kiss as Ryce again left for the fields. Sighing deeply, Ryce continued his task of planting the other half of his field that was, by farming standards, smaller than usual.

The blistering heat of the day turned to a cool yet hazy night. Ryce looked into the velvet blanket of stars that covered the sky and watched a crimson moon rise, its shape distorted by the humidity. Rain tomorrow, Ryce thought, Perfect timing. He entered the house and removed his earth caked shoes at the door. Passing through the small kitchen and the few other rooms in the house, Ryce noted that he had done rather decently for himself and Elene considering the circumstances. Others that he knew could not afford to purchase homes let alone their own land. He came to the bedroom and stepped inside. Elene sat on the end of the bed holding a letter-sized parchment. Hearing him enter, she abruptly turned to face him. She appeared as a frightened animal would. "It is only me Elene," Ryce spoke softly. Elene sighed softly and carefully placed the letter into her dresser. She lay down on her side, looking away from Ryce and through the bedroom’s single window. After putting on his nighttime attire, Ryce got into the bed and put out the single oil lamp that lit the room. He lay next to Elene and put his arms around her.

"What if what Donovan spoke of is true," Elene asked. The question took Ryce completely by surprise. He did not think that she had heard their conversation and thus hadn’t dwelled on how she would comprehend such a foreboding message. Ryce was left speechless as he worried about how Elene would take idea of an army invading the town. "What will happen to us Ryce?" she asked, beginning to cry softly. "When they get here, will they kill us too?"

"I will protect you," Ryce replied.

"Y-you will?" Elene mumbled, rolling over and facing Ryce.

"I am your knight Elene, remember? You are my princess and the knight always saves the princess." Ryce said, holding her tightly.

"My knight," Elene said. Ryce kissed her tear-moistened cheek. "My handsome knight…" After placing another kiss on her forehead, the pair of lovers fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Far to the south and high atop a fortress that stood like a mountain of carved stone and steel, a lone sentry sounded a horn. The horn echoed through the ancient walls only to be silenced suddenly as its master was filled with innumerable arrows. In response to the call, armed men swarmed about the fortress interior like a colony of ants that had lost its queen. Pieces of the impenetrable stone wall that had protected the imperial standard were torn from their places by an explosion that caused the ground to shake violently. Gates were forced open by inhuman hands despite the soldiers’ valiant effort. Fires raged through the wooden interior of the fortress. In a courtyard filled with armored corpses, hundreds of bestial creatures marched through the carnage scavenging for armor and weapons to equip their ravenous horde. The body of an Imperial general stood impaled to a wooden beam by a long serrated spear. His bloodstained mouth, now forever open, as though asking the gods themselves for mercy. Engulfed in flame yet still held in his hand was the standard of the fortress. Writing sewed into the standard curled as the cloth fibers caught fire. They read, "Forever in Service to Her Imperial Lord, Fortress Greshal Stands Strong."

The next day Ryce and Elene woke much later in morning. Getting dressed, Ryce looked out one of the two windows that shed little light into the room. It was, as he predicted, raining. Breakfast was had in the usual fashion. "Milk, bread, eggs, what else could a man ask for?" Ryce said between mouthfuls of egg. After he finished, Ryce checked his field and made sure that the rain had not washed the seeds away. Everything was where he had left it the prior day. Satisfied of the field, Ryce opened a small closet near the front door. Inside hung his treated leather overcoat. Intricate and colorful designs wrapped around the coat’s exterior. It appeared as though it had never been worn, but Ryce knew the truth. It had been his stepfather’s coat before him and was of perfect Elven craftsmanship. That and his stepfather’s sword were all that remained of the man Ryce had been inspired by throughout his childhood. Placing his arms into the soft interior of the coat, Ryce remembered his father placing the coat into his arms before he left for good. Ryce put aside those memories and focused on the plans he had made for the day. He walked into the bedroom and placed his hands on Elene’s shoulders. "I’m heading to town for the day," said Ryce, "I should be back soon unless something comes up."

Walking past the small guard post that stood outside the main entrance to town Ryce noted the concerned expressions the militiamen had on their faces. With all of the refugees flocking to the town and the threats of armies to the south, the guards were on edge. Walking quickly through the muddy streets, Ryce passed groups of houses and a few small shops that were owned by local families. Everyone in the small town knew each other by name. Unfortunately for Ryce, being a Dark Elf did little to boost his image. Being known as the son of Lafael had all but run him out of town. His stepfather had done no one wrong and only wished to be left alone. After Lafael had returned from a mission into Dark Elven territory bearing a Dark Elven child not even a year old, he was instantly turned into an outcast. This did little to diminish a young Ryce’s view of his heroic stepfather. Upon reaching maturity, his stepmother had told him the truth. Before settling down in Grantz, the town he still lived in, his stepparents had been mercenaries. As their final mission, they were charged with bringing down a Dark Elven general that had been pushing his forces deeper into lands that were under Imperial rule. After defeating the general and his elite guard, the mercenaries, lead by Lafael, came upon Dark Elven child. That child was Ryce. His stepparents accepted the responsibility of raising Ryce outside of the inherently evil Dark Elven Empire.

Ryce stepped onto the porch of the town’s single general store. Staring at the looming wooden sign above the store that read "Edgar’s Supplies" Ryce lifted the latch that held the store's broad door closed and stepped inside. The store had a high ceiling with equally tall shelves that held anything that anyone in this backwater town would ever need. A lanky mustached man behind the store’s counter took a break from stacking shoe polish and folded his arms. "Look what the cat dragged in," the man blurted out with a scowl on his face.

"Don’t give me that crap Edgar. I’m busy today and the sooner I get what I need, the sooner I’ll be out of your store," Ryce spoke calmly.

"The sooner the better," Edgar replied. Ryce picked up the few things he needed and paid Edgar for them. "Now get out," Edgar said impatiently.

"I wouldn’t stay in this worthless hole any longer than I had to," Ryce yelled back as he slammed the door. Outside, dirt roads that ran through the town had become slick and muddy. Water ran down from roofs forming miniature waterfalls. Ryce was contemplating whether to head back to home or visit Donovan’s when he noticed groups of men he had never seen before entering the tavern. More refugees, Ryce thought. Doing his best to avoid puddles of watery muck, Ryce made his way into the tavern. It was named after its current owner, Thomas, but all of the locals, who were the only people that frequented the tavern, simply called it Tom’s. The inside was packed with all manner of unfamiliar faces. Ryce’s nose stung as he was overwhelmed by the smell of human suffering. Taking a seat at one of the remaining tables, Ryce ordered a mug of ale. Few mages had come since the previous day it seemed, thought Ryce. The only people to come through the town now were imperial soldiers and a large amount of common folk from towns supposedly razed by this evil army. He turned his attention to the table at which he and three others sat. Two of the others were men who wore thick steel armor. Knights? Ryce wondered, Donovan was right, they truly are retreating north. The third person was a robed woman. A mage, Rice thought. The two knights seemed to be trying to comfort the woman but Ryce couldn’t hear their conversation.

"Try not to give it too much more thought Aurelia," one of the knights spoke softly. "He died so that we could save you and we are prepared to continue where he left off." The woman named Aurelia feebly attempted to dry the tears that streamed down her cheeks as freely as the water that flowed over the tavern’s windows. Her already damp handkerchief did nothing and soon her sobbing returned in full force. Her form shrank helplessly into the thick wooden chair she sat in. The pair of knights exchanged worried glances and continued to down the contents of their mugs. Ryce eventually gathered the nerve to speak to the knights. Clearing his throat, Ryce placed his mug onto the table making a noticeable thump. The taller knight with long hair that shone like platinum even in the dim lantern-light raised his head from the mug where his private thoughts stirred with ale. Confronted by pain and loss contained within the eyes of that knight, Ryce faltered and found himself utterly speechless.

"Speak, Dark Elf, and pray you do not insult me, for I am not in a forgiving mood," the knight spoke with a tone of utmost seriousness. Ryce panicked.

"Greetings sir," Ryce said with a bow of his head, "My name is Ryce."

"And?" the knight asked, looking uninterested.

"I was curious as to what is happening beyond this town. I heard that there was an army but I have not heard from where this army has come," Ryce answered. A look of anger came to the knight’s face and Ryce braced himself by firmly gripping his chair. As soon as it had come, the anger had fled from his face.

"The army didn’t come from anywhere. It just came from nowhere and has been growing since. Listen, I’d rather not speak of such things right now," the knight said before taking a generous gulp of ale.

"In that case, I shall bid you farewell and good luck," Ryce said. He stood and before leaving the three travelers gave them another bow. Leaving the establishment, Ryce began his journey home.

It rained again the next day. Ryce grew agitated as he watched his field from the bedroom window. "Try not to worry about it too much," Elene said while brushing her thick, light brown hair. "After all, with you in the house, we should probably…" she began to name off every chore they had, at some point in their lives, said they would eventually do. Ryce already had other ideas as to what he would do. He stood in the window thinking of the knight he had talked to the previous day. He had to meet the knights again and to do that he had to make up an excuse to head back into town. Ryce stared into the field while his mind raced. Deciding upon an excuse, Ryce snapped his fingers in mock frustration. "What’s wrong?" Elene wondered.

"Blast it all! I need get a replacement handle for my axe," Ryce kicked the wall and put his hands at his sides. "Better get ready so I can head into town again." Elene gave him an odd look.

"Fine, but don’t come back too late. We should be able to get a little work done inside," Elene spoke as though she had been defeated. Free to leave, Ryce victoriously donned his coat and set out. What a terrible day, he thought as he looked around. Everything was soaked from the constant rain. He could only hope that the rain would end before mid day. Everyone in town seemed to drag about lifelessly. The dreary weather coupled with the refugees and their stories had taken a toll on the populace. The tavern was almost exactly how Ryce had left it. New refugees sat at the tables but Ryce got the same feeling just from looking at them. Only one of the knights remained. The other knight and the mage he had met before had stayed at their camp, which was only a short distance out of town. Ryce took a seat at the same table as the knight. Ryce couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the knight fully equipped. On his belt were 4 swords of varying size and leaning against the table at his side was an enormous two-handed sword. Hearing Ryce take the seat across the table, the knight looked up at him. Seeing Ryce, he was at first startled to see a Dark Elf in the town. His sharp memory kicked in and he remembered seeing Ryce.

"Ryce, isn’t it? The farmer?" the knight asked.

"Y-yes, that’s me," Ryce answered, a bit confused. He remembered that he hadn’t spoken to this particular knight and he hadn’t even told his partner that he was a farmer. "Where is the other knight today?"

"Him and Aur…our mage," the knight corrected himself, "are back at our camp. We are preparing to leave by sunrise tomorrow."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Ryce inquired.

"Actually, yes there is. We need someone who knows the area to help point us in the right direction," the knight explained. Ryce’s eyes widened at the new opportunity.

"I’ll help you," Ryce said eagerly.

"Perfect. Lets head back to my camp. By the way, my name is Jagger, I’m a wandering swordsman of sorts," the knight said as he stood from his chair and fastened the large sword to his back. "Follow me" Jagger said, stepping out of Tom’s and into the dark and rainy streets.

Entering the sparsely wooded area outside of Grantz, the two came upon the camp. The trip had been short but it was enough time for the sky to clear. Birds again sang from their leafy perches as various small and furry animals poked their heads out. The mage Aurelia sat by a small fire pit attempting to ignite it. Jagger approached her as Ryce waited. "Where is Lysander?" Jagger asked.

"Your brother is down by the river trying to catch fish. I tried to show him how to do it correctly but he refused to listen. Doubt he has caught a thing," Aurelia grumbled. Jagger gave out a burst of laughter and headed in the river’s direction. Ryce still stood at the camps perimeter waiting to be told what to do. Aurelia turned to Ryce for the first time. "Oh!" she cried out, a bit startled. She had not seen Ryce the other day and had never seen a Dark Elf before. She was a bit frightened as she did not know Ryce and only knew that Dark Elves were much different from their light kin. "What do you want?" She was backing up slowly when her foot caught on a stray stone from the fire pit, sending her onto her back. Ryce rushed to help her to her feet but was slapped in the face by what came next. "Stay away from me! I’ll kill you where you stand, I swear!" she shouted as she raised a slender arm in his direction.

"I only wish to help you from the ground. Jagger got me from the town of Grantz to aid you in pinpointing where you are on a map," Ryce spoke calmly. "I am not like my brethren and would never hurt you."

"You…you wouldn’t?" she asked. Her arm lowered slightly.

"Here, let me help you up," Ryce said, taking her hand and pulling her gently to her feet. "See? Are you hurt from the fall?"

"I-I’m very sorry about that. I feel ashamed to have treated you like that. It’s just that I have never before beheld a Dark Elf. You have to understand that I only reacted that way due to their reputation." Aurelia apologized.

"It is ok, I get that reaction a lot," Ryce said.

"Really?" Aurelia asked. "That is terrible." She brushed her robe off, restoring the gloss of the expensive fabric almost instantly.

"Do not worry about it," Ryce reassured her, "I have become used to that reaction."

Some time passed as Aurelia told Ryce stories from her travels with Lysander, Jagger, and her lover, Vincent. She spoke of Vincent with high regard but failed to mention his current whereabouts. Ryce wisely chose not to ask, as speaking of Vincent seemed to have a saddening effect on her. Stubby trees rustled in a gentle breeze. "I’m sorry, this must be boring you greatly," Aurelia said, recovering briefly from her nostalgia.

"Definitely not. I always enjoy tales of adventure," Ryce replied with a broad smile that seemed out of place on his Dark Elven features. "My stepparents were retired mercenaries and would always tell me a story of adventure before they put me to bed." The thought of storytelling reminded Aurelia of long tales she had read with Vincent when they lived in his tower. Neither made a sound as the wind blew through their hair, playing with it as a child does with a toy. A commotion ended the moment as Lysander and Jagger returned to the camp.

"Terribly sorry, Ryce. I neglected to introduce you two," Jagger said.

"We already took care of that while you were away," Ryce said, shifting uncomfortably. The other knight, Lysander, recognized Ryce immediately.

"Greetings Ryce, its good to see that you have come to help us," Lysander said. "Hold on, I’ll get the map for you." Lysander moved to his tent where he removed a round ivory case. Opening the case, he took out and unfolded a gigantic map. The map showed, in fine detail, the whole continent as well as both light and Dark Elven territory. Truly interested, Ryce kneeled next to Lysander and began to figure where the camp was.

"This map is ancient," Ryce gasped, still awed by its size and accuracy. "I have only seen one other like this and I was but a child then." Ryce ran his fingers carefully over several different regions. First his fingers came to where his stepparents had found him. He still remembered these areas even though he had been only a child when he was shown them. Three onlookers watched as Ryce traced intricate paths through lands never before seen by their eyes. After tense minutes of waiting, Ryce put his finger down. "Here," Ryce said. "We are here."

"Amazing!" Jagger called out. "You truly have a knack for this." He clapped a hand on Ryce’s back nearly sending him to the ground. "It is growing late, would you honor us with your presence at our table this night?" Jagger said motioning towards a group of rocks with a backpack full of food next to them.

"I would most certainly feast at your table," Ryce chuckled, "but may I first get my fiancée? Our home lies not far from here."

"Surely. We shall prepare the food," Lysander said. Ryce jogged back the way he came.

Elene had been nervous about meeting with the mage and pair of swordsmen. This was, however, not apparent at the meal. The scent of chicken cooked over a campfire brought her to her senses. Talks of local politics and rivalries between mouthfuls of chicken kept everyone reasonably occupied. By the time they had each had their full, Ryce asked for his payment. "What?" the two warriors asked in unison.

"All I wish is to watch you both practice your swordplay," Ryce told them. "I enjoy sword fighting greatly. Watching you is all the payment I ask." Lysander looked to Jagger and shrugged.

"We can do that. Ok with you Jagger?" Lysander asked.

"Fine with me," Jagger replied. In minutes, the men had readied their swords and began their show. Ryce sat with Elene resting her head against his shoulder, although Ryce never noticed her there. All of his attention was on the two men in their mock battle. Swords flashed in the fading sunlight as the two men performed their bladed dance in complete harmony with their surroundings and each other. When they had finished, Ryce was still staring in awe of Jagger and Lysander’s combat finesse.

"Beautiful," Elene said, dozing off at Ryce’s side.

"That brings back memories," Ryce said. "I truly thank you for your hospitality but we must depart."

"Yes," Aurelia broke in. "It grows quite late. The sun shall soon set, you should set off while light remains." Ryce shook Jagger and Lysander’s hands and kissed Aurelia’s hand.

"One last thing," Jagger whispered to Ryce. "I do not with to panic you but you should leave Grantz as soon as you can. Forces of incredible evil are growing more powerful by the day. I fear that they shall soon be upon you." Ryce shook his hand again.

"Farewell my friends, good luck in your journeys," Ryce said as he took Elene’s hand and departed. The journey home was a quiet one with only bird calls and the songs of chirping insects to keep Ryce’s mind off of Jagger’s stern warning. Elene went directly to sleep no sooner than reaching the bed. Before falling asleep, she warned Ryce of overworking himself and his own need for sleep. Ryce had more pressing matters on his mind. Sneaking out of the bedroom and into the short stretch of hallway that lay between the front door and the living room, Ryce opened the closet and stooped to one knee. He felt around on the wooden floor for the secret handholds that he had made so long ago and placed three fingers in each hold. Carefully lifting the wooden board free from its resting-place, Ryce moved it aside and glared into the darkness in front of him. Being a Dark Elf had its advantages, including the ability to see perfectly in the absence of light. Reaching into the crevice, Ryce pulled free a long, black leather scabbard. The hilt of the sword housed within shone brightly in what little light that had crept into the closet. Ryce took the sheathed sword and exited his home. Outside the air was cool and a full moon hung low in the night sky, surrounded by an armada of nameless stars. No sound was made as the cold steel slid free from its leather casing. It was just as Ryce had remembered it. Light yet powerful. That is how his stepfather had described it when he left it to Ryce. Inspecting the blade, further memories returned to Ryce. His stepfather had also told him that the blade once belonged to his blood father, the Dark Elven general that his stepparents had been sent to kill. That’s right, Ryce thought to himself, They were sent to murder my father. A moment passed and Ryce remained as a silent statue with his sword at his side. He did not hate his stepparents for what they did, in fact, he was very grateful for his upbringing. Had his true father raised him, he would have become another wheel in the Dark Elven killing machine. He raised his arm and brought the sword down swiftly. Repeating the move several times, Ryce attempted to expand on it and tried bringing the blade across from side to side. This was trickier but he could manage. Soon he was leaping across his field waving his sword around in an attempt to reproduce moves he said Jagger and Lysander perform. For the time being he fancied himself a proud knight, vanquishing his enemies with ease. Imagining himself defeating beasts, barbarians, and even rescuing his beloved Elene from the dread army to the south. In his mind, not a man alive could best his skill. And so he danced into the night, sword flashing under the light of the luminescent moon and her stars.

Nearby, a soulless creature wearing the flesh of a man looked into Grantz from the shadows. Its colorless eyes took in everything it saw, magically relaying the images to its master. It watched people both enter and leave the bar and sniffed the air. Taking in their human scent, it smiled a cruel and unforgiving smile, bearing a row of pointed teeth that emitted a foul rotting stench. Tomorrow, the creature thought, Tomorrow my master!

Ryce awoke to an awful pounding noise on the front door. Ryce calmed Elene from the surprise of waking from the ruckus. Sneaking to the window, Ryce peered outside and saw that his early visitor was Donovan and his fiancée Rheda. There was something very wrong with this visit though, Ryce knew it. His fears were affirmed when Rheda began to sob uncontrollably and Donovan turned to comfort her revealing a sword in his right hand as well as bloodstains on the right side of his tunic. "Ryce!" Donovan shouted, desperation gripping his voice. "Get out here! Get out here now!" Fear gripped Ryce then. The realization that the army had actually come felt like a thousand pins in his spine. Ryce moved to open the door with as much speed as his panic stricken legs could muster. Opening the door, Donovan could already tell that his shouts had delivered his intended message.

"Ryce," Donovan said, "they are here…so many of them. We can’t hope of fighting, we have to escape right now if we intend to survive." Not a trace of the humor that Ryce had come to know his friend by existed in his voice. All emotion had been converted into the will to survive.

"I will get Elene, you and Rheda head to Tourent. Elene and I will gather what we can and get out," Ryce told them.

"Good luck to you, my friend," Donovan said as he shook Ryce’s hand.

"Luck be with you too," Ryce said. Watching his friend dash away, Ryce rushed back into the house slamming the door on his way back in. Elene stood leaning against the doorway into the kitchen watching Ryce rummage about in his private closet as though he were running on pure instinct.

"Ryce, what was that about?" Elene asked. Ryce stood up slowly. He was wearing his stepfather’s magical coat and attached to his side was his true father’s Dark Elven sword. He walked over to Elene slowly, taking great care not to alarm her. He placed one hand on her back and the other on her head, gently stroking her light brown hair.

"Elene…" Ryce stammered, "we must leave here right away."

"Why would we have to leave Ryce? Really now, what is wrong?" Elene again asked, growing more confused about the situation. Ryce opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by a feral howl from outside of the house. The noise jarred Elene’s memory of the monstrous army from the south. "No…no…they are here. What do they want Ryce?"

"Shhh Elene, do not fear this, I will protect you no matter what," Ryce promised. The sound came again; this time only a few seconds before the front door flew free of its hinges in a shower of splinters. Standing before the shattered entrance was a creature that could have been human at one point. The creature’s skin had hardened into a husk and instead of fingers on its hands, it had long spear-like claws. "Get behind me Elene!" Ryce yelled. Sensing fear, the creature twisted its face into grotesque smile that revealed its many rows of warped fangs. Ryce could smell burning. The roof, possibly more, Ryce thought. The creature dropped the smile and dashed at Ryce, hurling furniture that stood between it and Ryce. Ryce unsheathed his sword from its leather resting-place and raised it defensively. Claw met steel as Ryce fought with all of his strength to stay standing under the force of the creature’s assault. The two weapons met two more times before Ryce buried his sword in the creature’s belly. "Elene, I’ve got it occupied, get outside!" Ryce called to her. Screaming in a rough, guttural voice, the creature gripped the sword by the blade with its clawed hand and tore it from the wound. Ryce wrested the sword from his enemy and sprinted outside to make sure Elene was safe. The humid morning air was pierced by Elene’s scream as Ryce barely made it through the broken doorway of his own home. A second creature had set its hollow, lifeless eyes on Elene.

Falling upon the grim display of force, a lone man named Vincent solemnly stood and watched. His body was clad in steel armor that had an appearance that made it look as though it was carved from solid onyx. Spikes jutted from the armor’s shoulders and elbows. The cape of pure crimson that hung from his shoulders rippled and was tossed about gently by the summer breeze. Unlike the cape, his short, black, spiked hair remained adamant against the wind. He frowned at the numerous burning houses he could see in the distance. He had greater problems at his back and an almost unbearable burden upon his soul. Vincent sighed deeply as he watched the scene unfold. Ryce tried to protect Elene with all of his strength, but then Vincent already knew the outcome. "Such young love…" Vincent closed his eyes and for a moment, remembered.

Ryce was already sweating profusely as he threw himself between the new enemy and his beloved Elene. "You won’t take her!" He swung his sword in its direction to make his point clear. Advancing a few steps, the creature had no intention of standing down. "I TOLD you to stay back, you…!" Everyone’s attention was torn from the immediate situation and turned to the sparsely clouded sky. A long blue crystalline sword entered the chest of the creature that stood before Ryce. The sword was followed by a pair of black steel boots and a deep red cape that settled slowly over its bearer and his victim. The creature had died instantly from the impact. Ryce and Elene stood wide-eyed as Vincent pulled his sword from the creature and dug it into the ground. The clawed creature attempted to strike at Vincent but to its utter surprise, missed. Vincent, with only his gauntlet clad fists, landed a strong blow to the creature’s chest forcing it to bow forward in agony. Now grasping the creature’s ragged clothing in his hands, Vincent sent the creature flying into the side of Ryce’s burning home. Again upon the struggling creature, Vincent pinned it to the side of the house and hammered punch after punch into its exposed belly. Sensing the creature’s aggression fade with its life force, Vincent delivered a kick that sent the creature through the thick wooden wall and into the inferno that raged within. Ryce and Elene could do nothing but stand and gaze in terrible awe at the man’s power.

Walking over to where he embedded his sword in the ground, Vincent tore some fabric from the crushed creature’s tunic. Vincent began cleaning the blood from the blue crystal that his blade was composed of. "I don’t know what you are or even what these people who are attacking us are, but leave her out of this. If you want a fight then I will not run, let Elene live though, that is all I ask," Ryce pleaded. Vincent turned his attention from his sword to Ryce.

"Excuse me?" Vincent asked, not sure what to make of the offer. Tensing his hand on his sword’s grip, Ryce turned to Elene.

"Run Elene, get away from here. I will slow him down, just get to safety!" he yelled.

"No Ryce, I would never leave you behind!" Elene said, holding onto Ryce’s arm. "If you died so that I could live I would never forgive myself!" Vincent put his hand to the side of his head and clenched his teeth.

"Ok, listen here. I did not come to…" Ryce interrupted Vincent’s explanation by rushing at him while yelling and swinging his sword in the air

"Ahhhhhhh! Die you demon!" Ryce screamed. Elene began weeping as she threw her arms out towards Ryce in anticipation of his grisly demise. Calmly, Vincent rose to his feet and caught Ryce’s sword arm and held it aloft. "Escape Elene!" Ryce called, struggling with all of his strength against Vincent’s iron grasp. Turning to find Elene, Vincent found her pounding her hands on his steel plated back.

"Let go of him you fiend, let go!" she said through her tears. Pulling the sword from Ryce’s hand, Vincent let go of his arm, allowing him to drop free. Elene ran immediately into Ryce’s arms and the two embraced, accepting their supposed fate. "Ryce, please don’t let go of me," Elene whispered into Ryce’s ear.

"Listen to me!" Vincent shouted impatiently. "I am NOT here to kill either of you. Did you both not see me crush the two creatures that attacked you and burned your home?" Vincent watched the frightened pair simply stare at him with wide eyes. "I will not kill you," Vincent said slowly and calmly. "Do you understand that now? Think about it, if I had wanted you killed, don’t you think I would have done it by now? What exactly made you think I wished to do you harm anyway?" he asked.

"You look rather menacing with all of that spiked black armor and matching hair. The way you descended from nowhere onto that one creature also scared the hell out of me," Ryce said, still shaken from the encounter.

"The way you took out that other thing bare handed and sent it flying through that wall into the fire freaked me out. Scant few "normal" people are capable of such feats," Elene admitted.

"Yes well, I’m sorry about flaunting my abilities. I do not know my own strength," Vincent said, his thoughts returning briefly to a past incident. "What of the rest of the town?"

"They all lay dead in and around their homes," Ryce replied morosely.

"You don’t seem too skilled with the sword Ryce, how did you and Elene survive an attack that managed to slay all of the others?" Vincent questioned Ryce, raising one eyebrow.

"We have been here at our house. Those things came into our home and tried to kill us. The sword was my father’s before me. Although I know little of swordplay, I figured that it would be better to fight than to accept that we were to die. Then you came, stranger, and I thank you for protecting us. I also must apologize for mistaking you for one of them," Ryce replied as Elene nodded.

"That’s fine, really. We just need to get out of here. What took place here is insignificant. The few men that attacked this town are part of a vastly growing army," Vincent explained. "If you two have any wish to survive, I suggest that you both go to the nearest walled city."

"I…um…well you see, we don’t know our way around. We are both from this town and have lived here our entire lives. I’m afraid we wouldn’t know where to go," Elene said with an air of embarrassment. Vincent audibly groaned.

"You can follow me," Vincent offered, "I am traveling to Tèarmunn, the elven land. My journey will be one filled with incredible danger, so I suggest you part ways with me once we pass a protected city."

"Tèarmunn?" Ryce asked, his eyes widening dramatically. "Where in Tèarmunn are you headed?"

"I am not sure, I have never been there. I must…hey! I thought you said that you have never left this mining town." Vincent replied accusingly.

"My stepmother was an elf," Ryce said. "And you expect me to believe that you have never been to Tèarmunn at all? You being a full blooded elf and all." Ryce turned the attention onto Vincent’s pointed ears.

"OK, are you coming along with me or not? I would be glad to leave you here, if that is what you want," Vincent answered with arms crossed. Elene took Ryce by the arm and whispered something into his ear.

"This guy is our best chance for survival, we should take up his offer," Elene whispered. Ryce nodded in approval.

"We shall follow you then. But tell us, warrior, what is your name? You have saved our lives and even offered to escort us to safety and we do not even know your name," Ryce asked Vincent.

"Vincent Cæruleus," he answered, sheathing his cleaned sword and starting down the road he had originally been following. Having little choice in their path, Ryce and Elene followed.

Ryce took to traveling like a fish to water. An adventurous feeling welled in his heart as he found himself traveling through the world, completely unaware of what he may encounter at the next bend. Vincent took note of this early and even joined Ryce in training in swordplay every night. He knew Ryce needed the practice desperately if he intended on joining any sort of knightly order. Elene, unlike the two men, disliked traveling with her heart and soul. Her only hope was that they would come upon the city of Tourent before something managed to kill them. During one night while Ryce and Vincent practiced, Vincent had a sudden revelation when he found that Ryce’s sword techniques were too similar to his own for it to be a simple coincidence. Gathering his thoughts, Vincent stopped the sparring. "Ryce, I never asked you, where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Hmmm, well it was the day before we were attacked. A group of refugees had been visiting our town. I aided three of them in finding their way on a large map they had." Ryce smiled warmly. He always took great pleasure from memories of being accepted.

"And how did this teach you to fight?" Vincent had his black steel clad arms folded across his chest.

"Yes, yes, the two men had the appearance of skilled swordsmen. Instead of asking for money, I asked that they allow me to watch them spar. They agreed and well…I watched," Ryce replied. "One of the warriors had hair that flowed like a river of platinum while he fought, truly amazing." At hearing this, a feral look entered Vincent’s eyes, making Ryce take a step backwards.

"The third person in that group! Ryce, you have to tell me who it was!" Vincent grasped Ryce’s arm and held it firmly. Ryce panicked. Struggling to get free with his trembling arm, Ryce couldn’t tear his gaze away from Vincent’s frenzied expression.

"It…it was a woman. She had long auburn hair and cried a lot," Ryce breathed a sigh of relief as Vincent released him. Still unsure of why he had been manhandled for such information, Ryce began his training again without Vincent. Later that night, Vincent apologized for his sudden rash behavior and could only explain that the woman Ryce had met was incredibly important and that his goal was to reach her.

The trio made their way north for a solid week before nearing the walled city of Tourent. The decently sized city was, as many sign posts dictated to the group, a very popular place for brigands. Upon reaching a crossroads near Tourent, Vincent stopped Ryce suddenly and explained that a group of brigands had taken a sudden interest in them and were going to make an attack soon. Immediately behind them, four bandits came crashing out of hiding places. Two more blocked the road ahead of them. Ryce pulled his sword from the sheath at his belt and stood ready. "Ryce, watch yourself, these men will do anything for money. Remember that their main goal here is to get rich fast, they will not expect a fight out of us," Vincent reminded Ryce.

"I’ve got these two," Ryce motioned north.

"Then leave these four to me. Stay in the middle Elene, we will keep you safe," Vincent said. Both men rushed their targets with swords in hand and teeth clenched. Elene placed her hands over her ears and wondered what being captured by brigands would be like.

Vincent tore into the mob of brigands with ease. His fists eagerly engaged any enemies his sword could not. When finished, Vincent left the brigands lying either dead or unconscious on the road. Ryce did not fare as well. One brigand laughed and threw insults at him while the other playfully toyed with him. The two brigands underestimated him and despite this, Ryce figured that he could have cut them down, should they have engaged him individually. Vincent could see the brigands losing interest in their game and knew that he had to step in soon. Seeing an opening, Ryce drove his sword low with a powerful thrust, cutting the brigand’s leg badly. "You damned Dark Elf! I’ll teach you good for that one," the brigands growled, ending the sentence with a laugh and a lupine grin. Vincent moved to help Ryce but was cut off by the other remaining brigand. Having no other choice, Vincent tapped into his magic. He only prayed that he could control it. Raising his crystalline sword into the air, he began to chant.

Swing after swing brought the enraged brigand’s sword closer to Ryce by the second. Ryce had to buy enough time for his enemy to tire himself out but as the battle was progressing, it did not appear he would get the chance. Vincent finished speaking his words of power and with a mighty pull, brought his sword against the dusty earthen road. A deafening roar resounded off every tree as a shock wave of pure force erupted from the point of the swords impact. Everyone’s attention was turned to the thunderous wave of force. The brigand that had moved to intercept Vincent was overcome by sheer panic as he dove from the wave path only to be caught mid-dive and violently tossed aside. The brigand that had been advancing on Ryce turned to the wave and then back to Ryce. Turning his whole body to face Ryce, the brigand attempted to throw himself sword first at him. He, like his cohort, was caught by the fury of the wave and carried deep into the forest he had come from.

Vincent assessed the aftermath with careful glances. Deciding that the conflict had ended rather well for himself and Ryce, he walked over to where Ryce was currently sitting and eyeing Vincent oddly. "Are you ok Ryce?" Vincent asked, extending a hand to Ryce.

"How?" Ryce wondered out loud. "How could you have done that? What the hell are you?"

"Its magic, Ryce. I am a mage…or…hmm," Vincent paused, looking at the sword in his hand. "Well I used to be a mage. Now I am not sure what I am."

"Well, whatever you are, you are definitely the most amazing fighter I have seen," Ryce said, grinning and picking himself up using Vincent’s hand for leverage. "Elene?" he called, looking about the area for her. They found her lying exactly where they had left her. "Guess the action was too intense for her," Ryce snickered.

After ensuring Elene’s health, Ryce picked through what was left behind from the battle. He removed a nearly undamaged suit of chain mail armor from a dead brigand and tried the suit on. Flexing his legs and arms inside of the armor, he found that it restricted him very little and provided better protection than the simple farming clothes that he had left with. Ryce took a seat on the stump of a recently cut tree and stuck his sword into the ground before him. Looking deep into the dark elven crest it bore, Ryce thought of the father he might have had and the life he could have led. He placed a pair of ebony colored fingers on the crest and traced the intricate pattern across the cold metal. A pair of swords crossed before a flame. He dismissed the thoughts of his wicked kin, knowing deep inside that he was a better man now, he had been raised for better things than wanton murder disguised as duty. He still wished that his true parents could see him from the heavens and feel the same. A pair of hands on his shoulders startled him from his memories. The hands ran through his hair and crossed around his neck as Elene hugged him. "You fought like a true knight, Ryce, my knight."

"I wasn’t strong enough Elene. Had Vincent not saved me with his magic, I would have died. If I cannot protect myself, how can I protect you?" Ryce’s shoulders slumped noticeably. "If I am to protect anyone, I need to get strength. Strength like Vincent."

"I will be your strength," Elene kissed Ryce and looked longingly into his eyes. Remembering what she had been told, she pulled herself away from Ryce. "Vincent sent me to tell you that we are merely miles from Tourent. He told me to tell you that we are ready when you are."

"Tell him that I will be right with him," Ryce spoke with a false enthusiasm in hopes that it would calm Elene. Elene ran her hand through his hair one last time and was gone. Alone again, Ryce continued to glare at the one thing that tied him to his entire race. "Am I a monster? What if I am doomed to follow in the footsteps of my brethren?" The questions went unanswered yet Ryce could feel something responding to him in his sword. It may have been nothing but if only for a mere moment, Ryce could feel a deep empathy within the blade. Confused by the sudden emotional response, Ryce sheathed his father’s sword and returned to Elene and Vincent.

Hawk eyed guards feverishly patrolled the thick wooden gate that lead past Tourent’s walls. Fueled by horrifying rumors from the south, the guards had every right to question the strangers. After many questions and idle threats, the guards granted Ryce, Vincent, and Elene entrance to Tourent. Ryce walked through the cobbled streets with his eyes wide. He had never visited a city before and the sights conjured a great deal of emotion inside of him. The great buildings and sheer amount of people awed him and the poverty and corruption appalled him. Women stood at corners offering their bodies to passers by while cutpurses and thugs lurked in every shadow. Ever aware of his surroundings, Vincent drew Ryce and Elene near him and whispered to them. "Stay close to me. A great many eyes watch us." Hours of searching Tourent’s merchant quarter eventually revealed the cobbler’s shop that belonged to Elene’s brother. Though glad to aid his younger sister, Ryce couldn’t shake the idea that Elene’s brother despised him for being with Elene. Ryce even caught the occasional venomous look shot in his direction. Vincent had done his duty and decided that it was time he got back on the road. Elene’s brother walked Vincent to the door and thanked him for escorting Elene on the journey, even adding that Ryce would have been little help. As Ryce approached Vincent to thank him, he was pulled through the doorway with him. "Ryce, listen to me."

"Huh?" was all Ryce could manage, confused by the sudden need for secrecy.

"There are two things I must tell you before I go, Ryce. First, the walls that protect this town mean nothing. Second, Elene’s brother does not seem to be very fond of you."

"Yeah, well…" Ryce grimaced. "His whole family has it out for me. They don’t see me as a proper lover for Elene."

"He does mean to do you harm, Ryce. Just watch yourself," Vincent put his hand out. Ryce clasped Vincent’s hand.

"I thank you for everything you’ve done for us. We would have died at our house were it not for you," Ryce hesitated. "Anyway, you had better get on your way. Good luck finding those swordsmen and that woman."

"Keep training Ryce, you have the potential to do anything you can dream. If I ever need a swordsman, I will search you out," Vincent grinned, "You had better get training." With that, Vincent turned and disappeared into the sprawl of the marketplace. Ryce wondered if he would ever see Vincent again and would spend many hours pondering the meaning of his final message. One thing he knew, he would not let Vincent down.

The following days were filled with frustration and many moments when Ryce could feel that his soon to be brother-in-law’s feelings would violently come into the open. Between meals and rest, Ryce spent his time traversing the city market. The many carts filled with anything from the exotic to the mundane brought a sparkle to Ryce’s curiosity filled eyes. His spirits flew high when he found that all of the vendors he dealt with wouldn’t hold any ill will toward him because of his race. He knew that the salesmen were only tolerant because of the fact that they were pressed for money. Ryce chuckled. It was better than nothing, he decided.

Blind hatred clouded several pairs of eyes as they watched Ryce joyfully make his way through the marketplace. "Dark elves walking freely through our city," the thug spat on the ground. "What is this place coming to."

"He’ll have his turn boss, that guy won’t be so happy when he finds out who paid us either," another ruffian held up a generously sized pouch of gold. "The look on the bastard’s face will be worth all o’ this at once." Hideous laughter resounded off of shadowed walls as Ryce continued his tour of the market.

Night had come hours before Ryce had finally settled down for rest. Elene was already asleep in her bed and Ryce didn’t have the heart to wake her. He blew out the candle by his bed and stared out one of the room’s windows. Lying in his bed and pondering his future, Ryce thought of Vincent’s final words. Keep training Ryce, you have the potential to do anything you can dream. The words made Ryce felt wanted and in control, two feelings that he seldom experienced. The sound of the door being kicked open assaulted Ryce’s sensitive ears. Completely off guard, Ryce sat up and with his keen elven vision saw black clothed men with hoods swarming though the doorway. He grabbed for his sword only to find it missing. Turning to Elene, Ryce’s limbs became numb. She was holding his sword in her arms, tears from her face falling onto the scabbard. "I’m sorry Ryce. I’m so sorry." Before Ryce could think of what to say, something cold and hard collided with the back of his head. His vision blurred and he felt himself drifting. Rolling off the bed, Ryce landed hard on the solid wooden floor. Over the senseless jabber of his assailants, Ryce picked out a single familiar voice, Elene’s brother.

Ryce awoke to find himself standing on an empty battlefield. He couldn’t remember what he had been doing or how he got there. The ground was cracked and broken as though it had not seen rain in years. Sun bleached skeletons lay still under the cloudless yet moonless night sky. Dead grass rustled and broke under his feet as he walked. Where am I going? The sound of his thoughts echoed. He looked about cautiously as he heard his own thoughts echo off of the sheer nothingness of his world. "Where do you want to go?" a deep voice returned. Ryce could not help but place his confidence in the voice. I want to… Ryce hesitated, looking into the palms of his hands, I don’t know. Ryce wanted to curl up into a ball and let the earth take him. "How indecisive." Looking to the sky, Ryce was shocked to see the stars moving of their own free will. Who are you? A star about the size of Ryce’s fist dropped from the sky and bobbed about his head. "You don’t recognize me?" Ryce shook his head, never taking his eyes off of the levitating orb of light. "I shouldn’t be surprised. You will see soon enough." Everything went dark and pain filled Ryce’s head.

Ryce groggily opened his eyes as much as he could. The pain was less than it had been but that wasn’t saying much. His arms and legs ached because they were bound to the chair he was seated in. Dismissing the previous events as a dream, he turned his head slightly to the right. A wooden door stood feet from where he was seated. Probably locked from the other side, Ryce thought, remembering his predicament. Shifting his weight from side to side, Ryce was able to loosen the rope binding his legs and rock the chair. Losing his balance, he went careening backwards, his head striking the all too solid ground almost exactly where he had been hit. Feelings of nausea overcame him as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the wooden planks that made up the room’s flooring.

Ryce found himself back on the field. Here again? Scanning the ground, he saw that it was not as sun ravaged as it had previously appeared. Patches of living grass had even sprouted from the earth. Curious, Ryce looked to the sky once again. The one star he had spoken to sat utterly still against the velvet sky. Every other orb of light circled it with dizzying speed. All of the stars gathered at the center of the celestial whirlpool and began to take form. Ryce watched in awe as the light from the heavens took the form of his sword and plummeted to the earth. Landing soundlessly far ahead of where Ryce stood, the tip of the sword’s blade stopped immediately before the ground. Behind the sword, the ground rose up and like a liquid in a container took shape. The first shape was that of a tent. The fabric of the tent appeared expensive as it was dyed a deep blue and trimmed in red. The second form that rose from the ground was a pole that stood the height of the tent. On the pole was a Dark Elven banner that flapped lightly against a phantasmal breeze. His curiosity getting the best of him, Ryce began running towards the tent. Despite the great distance between him and the tent, he was able get close in a matter of seconds. His feet moved effortlessly on the ground as though they were gliding on ice. As he approached the tent, the flap at it’s opening was brushed aside and the orb of light moved to where they sword hovered in the air. The globe’s light expanded quickly and began to take the shape of a man. The transformation nearly complete, Ryce was forced to shield his eyes when the orb’s new form emitted a bright flare of light. Returning his eyes to the man, Ryce was greeted by the orb’s true form. The newly formed man was tall and well built. Clad in ornate, green enameled steel, the man reached one hand out and clasped the sword by the handle. The other hand moved to the winged helmet that completely concealed the man’s identity and removed it. The man was Dark Elven with short silvery hair and short beard. "I am glad that I may finally see you with my own eyes again Ryce."

"Y-you…you are my…" the blood fled from Ryce’s legs as he daftly fumbled for the right words. His mouth eventually made out the one word he had been searching for. "…Father."

"It is true, I am your father," the man answered.

"But how? You have been dead since I was an infant. I know this world is only a dream but I feel that you are not part of this."

"The sword that you wield," He raised the sword and then sheathed it at his side. "It was once, as you know, the sword I used. It now acts as a way for my spirit to reach you from the afterlife."

"Is what my stepparents me of you true then?" Ryce questioned.

"Yes Ryce. Though I am unaware of how much your stepparents have told you," The general’s face softened. "You see Ryce, I wanted to see you raised in a world free of the empty hatred that binds our race. My last wish before your stepparents defeated me was for them to take you and raise you as though you were their own child. I am not only honored that they accepted and carried out my final wish, I am proud of how you have grown."

"I," Ryce looked at the sun-baked earth. "I haven’t become anything. I was driven from my home and now betrayed. You are not mad that I have not become a great warrior or slain hordes of men and beasts?"

"Not even I had done that at your age," Ryce’s father replied.

"Yes, well, I don’t even know my own father’s name," Ryce said sullenly.

"My men called me Tiberius."

"I can’t even wield your sword with as much skill as I should," Ryce said.

"Stop making excuses for yourself Ryce. I can feel your strength from within the sword." Tiberius turned his attention to the tent. "Come, I shall reveal to you what I can." Walking into the tent, Tiberius was gone. Ryce, although nervous of what was to come, followed his father.

The glossy, blue fabric flap of the tent folded around him. Instead of making him feel constricted and helpless, Ryce felt comforted by the soft warm cloth that flowed like water over his skin. The wonderful experience came to halt as the soothing folds of cloth fled from his body. Ryce found himself inside of a tremendous room constructed entirely of ruby-like crystal. Images of events he had experience throughout his life sat still within the crystal. A great pillar comprised of a clear stone rose through the room’s center. Within the core of the room was an image of Elene. She had the sword held with both of her arms. Deep cracks ran through the pillar and Ryce wondered how it managed to stay in one piece. "This is your heart." Ryce turned abruptly to see his father looking about the room with his arms outstretched. "What you see here is everything you hold dear to you."

"And this?" Ryce asked, turning his attention back to the room’s core.

"You must know by now," Tiberius declared. "This," he pointed to the pillar, "is the reason I have chosen to finally show myself to you."

"Elene…" Ryce placed a hand on the pillar but hastily drew it away. The stone was cold to the touch, painfully cold. Ryce placed his hand over his forehead. "How could this have happened? Why did she-" Tiberius silenced Ryce by striking the clear stone with an armored fist. The thunderous clap of sound seemed to jolt Ryce.

"Do you think that she truly loves you Ryce?" Tiberius queried. "Does her betrayal make you think that she still feels for you in same the way that you feel for her?"

"What can I do now?" Ryce asked, turning his attention to his father. "I am an outcast; people I have never met hate me. I have few places to turn and…in the name of the gods, I’m tied to a chair!" Tiberius looked sternly into Ryce’s eyes.

"You live!" Tiberius slapped a hand onto Ryce’s shoulder. "I have faith in you son, just keep living." The pain in Ryce’s head began to return as the dreamed reality faded to black. "Just live."

Ryce awoke into a different room than he had been in before. Two men sat at a table directly in front of him. One held his sword. "Look at this thing man, it’s pretty damn sharp. Massive too, I’m not sure if I could use it."

"Just don’t cut yourself, the bastard probably has it poisoned," one of the kidnappers scolded. Without making a sound, Ryce tested the ropes that bound him. In doing so, he found that the fall that had sent him back to the dream had cracked the wood of the chair. I can easily break the chair and free myself, but when? he wondered. The man holding Ryce’s sword turned his head to see Ryce staring at them.

"He’s awake," the kidnapper said, making a gesture towards Ryce. Walking over to Ryce, the kidnapper brought his hand back and smacked Ryce hard across the face. "You like that Dark Elf? No? Here comes another," the kidnapper laughed. The laughter ended suddenly as Ryce caught his sword between his feet and pulled the chair apart with his arms. His hands free from the chair, Ryce swiftly yanked the sword from his feet, severing the thick cords of rope that had kept his feet together. In a state of complete shock, the kidnapper that had smacked Ryce could only fumble around for his own sword while the kidnapper behind him drew his weapon and advanced. Ryce had been through enough of this. He had quietly taken the verbal punishment of those less than him for long enough. Now was the time to take action. Now was the time to fight back. With a slash of his sword, Ryce had cut the throat of the first kidnapper. The second kidnapper showed little care for his partner, which he showed by throwing the dying man to the floor on his way to Ryce. Meeting the man’s blade with his own, Ryce easily parried the attack and returned with one of his own. The Dark Elven blade dug deeply into the man’s side. By the time the wounded man fell to the ground clutching the gash in his side, Ryce had already forgotten about him. He had more pressing issues on his mind. Ryce stepped into a short hall through an oaken door. The door complained heavily as Ryce forced it shut. It would attract unwanted attention but at this point Ryce did not care. He hadn’t even sheathed his sword from his last encounter. Ryce walked to a window that looked out onto the city. It was evening and all that could be seen were the roofs of countless makeshift buildings. The docks, Ryce thought. He was at least three floors up from the street. Tall building, Ryce reckoned, I wonder what I’ll find at the bottom. The thought of Elene and her brother only served to fuel his rage. I loved her! What is she doing? Why is this happening? Countless thoughts invaded his mind like the ravings of a madman. I have faith in you son, just keep living. His father’s words returned to him. "You’re right father," Ryce affirmed, "If I do not get out of here then I have no future."

Now set in his resolve, Ryce began to search for his escape. Opening all the doors he came by, he eventually found a supply room. The door had been locked but it took little for him and his sword to remove the wooden obstruction. All manner of equipment was simply laid out for the taking. Ryce even found the cloak that he had taken with him from his home. Ryce chose to outfit himself, picking a well fitting armor consisting of linked steel "scales" for the arms and legs and linked steel plates for the shoulders, chest, and back. The armor stood out completely from all of the others due to the uniqueness of its design. Cloaked, armored, and determined, Ryce left the room and proceeded down a set of stairs he had recently discovered. "Second floor," Ryce said to himself.

"That’s right," interrupted a man in black dyed leather. "You should turn back, I might not have kill you."

"You would stop me?" Ryce’s eyes went wide and his face pulled back into a scowl.

"You should be thinking about-"

"It doesn’t matter!" Ryce roared, sending the man into a series of defensive maneuvers with a sequence of powerful strikes from his oversized sword. The animalistic rage that had been brewing deep within Ryce overtook him. "I’ll send you to meet your comrades in hell!" Ducking and weaving between the mighty swings could only protect the rogue so much. One such swing caught the rogue mid-back flip, with the exception that the flat of the sword struck instead of the blade’s deadly edge. The blow was devastating enough though, sending the rogue hurtling through a wall. Around the corner at the end of the room, men gathered around the staircase to the first floor. Infuriated by the attempt to impede his progress, Ryce charged the staircase. Carving a path through underlings and lackeys proved easy although Ryce was cut occasionally when he was overwhelmed. The injuries he sustained in the scuffle were, however, completely ignored. Though appearing beyond reason, Ryce ignored those who had been injured and even allowed those who did not wish to join the ever-growing list of casualties to leave unharmed. Somewhere in his head a bit of sense remained.

Void of emotion, Ryce descended the long spiral staircase that lead to his destination, freedom. Spiraling into the darkness below, Ryce came to the final door. He reached his arm out and slowly opened it. It led to a darkened and empty room that seemed rather ordinary. Ryce walked out into the room and quickly looked around for enemies or a way out. The room contained numerous tables, chairs, and even bar complete with stools. He had found a tall barred door that had the look of an exit when his acute elven vision caught movement from a sheltered booth in the room’s corner. Approaching it apprehensively, Ryce found the one thing he did not want to find. Elene sat with her legs pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. Her whole body quivered in fear from the presence of the lover that she had betrayed. "Don’t kill me Ryce, please."

"What’s wrong with me Elene?" Ryce asked, his emotionless demeanor remaining unchanged. "What happened to the love we shared?"

"W-we are too different," Elene replied, her eyes beginning to show telltale signs of tears to come. "It would never have worked, Ryce. People would never accept us into their world."

"Damn the world, Elene," Ryce announced to the empty room. "If the world means so much to you, then you can have it." Ryce turned his back and slung his sword over his shoulder. As Ryce opened the massive door, the sound of many feet approaching from the stairs could be heard resounding through the empty room. Realizing that he had clearly outstayed his welcome, Ryce turned to leave only to feel two sharp pains in his upper and lower back. Looking back one last time before escaping into the streets, Ryce saw the black dyed-leather wearing rogue he had sent through a wall. He had a miniature crossbow in each of his hands and wore an ear to ear grin that dribbled blood from one side.

"Now we are even," he said through bloodstained lips. Ryce kicked the door closed behind him and walked down the sloped street. He could feel each crossbow bolt protruding from his back. Blood trickled down his leg, leaving the occasional footprint. His vision blurred and his body felt lighter by the minute. Not much further, he though. He was not even sure of where he was going; all he knew was that he was going to be free. Some watched him as he shambled down the road to nowhere while others simply moved from his path. Not a single person helped. He didn’t mind though, he expected no help. It was what he was raised to expect. He could hear the men behind him now. So close, he sighed, so very close. A woman leaning against a wooden beam outside of a tavern looked up from the ground in time to see the cloaked, hooded, and armored figure that was Ryce fall to his knees in the middle of the street. She could already hear an angry mob heading in his direction. It only took a split second to make up her mind. Dashing into the street, the woman positioned herself under Ryce’s right arm. Scanning the tightly packed area for an escape route, her eyes came upon an alley that ran between the tavern and an adjacent building. Watching the merchants and commoners part ways as the vicious mob neared them, the woman pulled Ryce into the inscrutable gloom of the alley.

Walking with a slight spring in his step, Elene’s brother marched confidently toward the headquarters of his hired thugs. The door was open, he thought, they never leave the door open. Stepping indoors, the well-to-do man shrank into his expensive coat. Wounded men sat at tables while others drowned their pain at the bar. "No," he mumbled, "I refuse to believe it."

"He got free and fought his way to the door," a man in a uniform consisting of black dyed leather explained.

"How the hell did he get past all of you? And where is Elene?"

"I’m here," Elene said in a voice like a whisper. Her brother had lost his patience.

"You told me that he had no training and had absolutely no idea how to use a sword. He killed people here Elene, many people." The failure had set fire to his eyes, which were now firmly set upon Elene.

"I’m sorry. I…" she remembered the terrifyingly empty face Ryce had worn in her presence. Ryce had been covered in blood as well, both his own and those of his enemies. The thought his face frightened her much more than the blood that had been splattered over his armor. It was something she had never seen in him before.

"He’s gone now," her brother turned to the ajar door, "and with any luck, he will die of his wounds by nightfall."