AARIUS GRAIL RAN for his life. He was sure he could feel the slobbering hot breath of the Mantamel Hounds on the back of his neck. He could hear their snarling grunts and the breaking of limbs behind him as their massive hairy bodies crashed through the surrounding forests.

Medgar's Mage Summon Master had enchanted them for a most villainous task. Patrolling the outer perimeters of the Oath Guard Tower and tonight they were proving their worth. His own breath came in short painful gasps that hit the cold night air turning to steam, even as the icy gasps he sucked in stung his lungs, but he pressed on. Though his heart slammed against his chest like the drums of the TsuTomu servants, Aarius plowed through briar and the frozen finger like tendrils of vine draped brush knowing he could be overtaken at any moment.

He remembered the ear-splitting scream of his master, a horrid gut-wrenching howl and how it had echoed off the walls of Oath Guard Tower.

'IMPOSTER!'

The accusation rose above the din of swirling wind that had encapsulated Medgar along with the glance of utter betrayal on the ancient Mage's face.

Aarius had wasted no time. He fled the tower on Emeralding Coast he had been forced to call home for ten long years, thankful that he had been privy to avenues of escape in spite of the strict tenets Medgar had enforced.

From this night forward Aarius would be a fugitive. There would be no forgiving nor forgetting as long as Medgar lived, and Aarius knew it well.

But he hadn't meant to turn the Mage into a shadow bane! He didn't even understand how it had happened! One moment he had been reciting the verses of the strange script etched into the Reliquary walls and the next thing he knew Medgar was screaming in agony. Aarius would not soon forget the hollow moan or the curses that had followed. Medgar cried out for his regiment and Aarius knew he had only seconds to escape.

His fleeting thoughts now turned dark with pain as he felt the rip and tear of brambles lash through his thin, soft skin boots. He felt the warm thick coagulation of blood between his toes. Still, he heard the shrill bay of those death hounds on his heels.

He burst forth from the slicing undergrowth and into a grassy plain that stretched out before him, until it didn't. Too late Aarius realized he had come to the edge of land. There was no time to think anymore as his body lurched forward and his weight cast him downward into the darkness below.

Aarius hit the river with a blinding smack and what little breath he had was forced from his lungs as he sank below the frigid water only to pop up moments later gasping for his life as the fast-moving current carried him down stream. He distinctly heard the splashes of the hounds as they hit behind him but there was no way for them to catch him now. As his body grew numb Aarius let the river take him, hoping he could find freedom wherever he ended up.

High above on the cliff overlooking Chromite Falls two Battle Mages peered down into the misty darkness below. Faces glowing silver with anger as they realized they had lost their battle hounds and the boy who had destroyed their master. By the hot and cold of Mithra's Stone, there would be hell to pay when they returned to the tower with the news.

The elder of the two, a mage even older than Medgar himself, cursed a vapid sentence knowing he could very well face his death for this infraction and with the thought he made a hasty decision.

"You'll keep this incident mum. The boy is dead. The hounds are dead. Understand?"

The younger Mage nodded but could not shake the feeling of dread that came with the announcement. "I don't like it," he scolded arrogantly. "What if the hounds are to return? What then? Medgar won't believe any of it for a minute."

"Are you challenging my judgment?!" The elder shrieked.

"No! But you will challenge Medgar over this. I won't be a part of this fabrication."

"So, you do make a challenge, as I see it. And here we will settle it!" The elder mage floated back several paces and lifted his gnarled fingers, evoking a glowing ball of fiery magic. He bounced it on his palm watching the fear develop on the face of the young upstart. The young ones could never hold their tongues. It was a wonder any of them lived to old age. The elder lived simply because he had learned humility early on.

"There is no need for this," the younger stuttered. "I'll hold your secret to the grave, I swear!" he begged.

"Indeed, you will," the elder smiled with an irritating jeer. He drew back and thrust the fire ball with supernatural force but stopped it just before it struck and held it suspended with a long-jagged beam of pulsing light. He mockingly savored the expression of pallid fear on his younger ally and reluctantly pulled the burning orb back to his hand where it silently hovered until he smothered it with the other decrepit hand.

"That's the least of the power I need to extinguish you from existence cur," the elder sniggered insultingly. "Don't forget it."

The elder turned and floated away only feet above the ground, leaving the youth properly shamed to trudge behind him but the young mage only took a few steps before turning back to run to the edge of the cliff where Aarius had disappeared only moments ago and thrust himself over.

The elder Mage never turned back. "Weak milksop. Good riddance then," he muttered. With a swish of his paneled vermeil robe he vanished and landed back in the courtyard of the tower where he went off to find Medgar and tell him all the unfortunate news.

______

"What do you meannn the boy is dead!" Medgar howled from the darkness of the isolated tower chamber where he had taken refuge to hide the awful condition he now found himself in. A shadow bane was useless. His powers now impotent.

No one must find out beyond his loyal guard or his rule over the land of Hannelora was finished. A deranged cry broke the still atmosphere which was turning more volatile by the moment.

The brass goblet he held flew across the room and smashed into the stone wall echoing Medgar's helpless anguish.

The elder mage cringed. "They're all dead Master. The hounds and Cedor, the poor soul fell off the ridge after the hounds-,"

"I don't care about hounds and infants!" Medgar raged. "The boy! Without the boy I shall never rule these lands! It will be all for naught!"

"This is not true, Master! We shall find magic, to restore you fully! It will only be a matter of time before we find Ymoso. He holds the key to all of the Kingdoms. You know this. We have no need for the boy."

Medgar held up a trembling hand and pointed a crooked finger at the mage.

"Osador, I will tell you a mystery. If you do not wish to find yourself slaving in the mines, what you have said must come to pass quickly. Do not make the mistake of thinking I am powerless over you for I possess many allies, one in particular which would love nothing more than to see you banished from the tower and to take the very control you hold so dear. And one more thing. I will not hear of losing another protégé. I had special plans for Cedor. Now he must be replaced. You will gather the acolytes tonight in the main hall and test them as I watch from the upper balusters. I will call the name of my choice and he shall be separated from the others to serve as my apprentice."

"As you desire Master," Osador bowed.

"At dawn see that you retain a legion for immediate dispatch to those cursed mountains. This time you shall accompany them as well. Do not return to my sight until you have taken hold of Ymoso. I want him brought here alive, Osador. Once I am restored you may do to him what you wish, but I would caution you to make haste, as I will not forget my earlier promise," Medgar hissed slowly.

"It will be done, but Master, leaving you here alone? Is it such a good idea?"

Medgar bellowed with a wicked laugh. "Do I detect a worrisome tone in your voice Osador?"

"Concern, perhaps for your wellbeing, master."

"Or perhaps for the wellbeing of your position here," Medgar hissed eyeing the mage with a nasty sneer.

"Of course not," he managed to say between clenched lips. "We will leave on the morrow."

"See too it that you do. Now leave me. I must now ready myself, to receive a new
student."

Osador turned on a heel and swept from the chamber cringing at the sound of Medgar's laugh in his ears.

He made his way down the dimly lit curving tower stairwell to a small notch in the wall and turned in, accessing a secret wall-walk which deposited him right into the great room. It was empty save for the servant Grell children who swept the stone floors, and they didn't bother to look his way.

A great stone archway draped with a rich tapestry was the entrance to the massive solarium and it was here that Medgar's acolytes were housed.

The chamber had been enlarged to include a lecture hall, library, alchemy forge, meal gallery and various solar rooms to grow and store plants, herbs, and other devices of arcane used by Medgar's mages.

Osador's own private chambers were here as well but he had no time to rest today. He called together all the students of the hall, instructing them to meet him in the great room as soon as possible. He informed them that Medgar would be choosing a new apprentice tonight, as a terrible accident had occurred and Cedor was no longer with them.

A low hum of dismay filled the room but soon an excited buzz of hopeful voices replaced it as each mage imagined himself the next to hold a special place in the fortress. Training under Medgar was a highly sought-after position, but all the brash competition was irritating to Osador. Just as Cedor had become arrogant and proud, so again would the next chosen.

He clapped his hands in frustration.

"Come now! Quiet!" He scolded. "Medgar will have nothing to do with unruliness! If he hears one more peep, he may not choose any of you!" Osador shouted. "Come now. Line up. Show some restraint and order!"

A collective hush settled around the cavernous room to Osador's relief and he led forth the aspirants to meet their challenge. He hoped it wouldn't take too long.

In the end, to Osador's chagrin, he was forced to test them well into the night. His frustration, a source of glee to Medgar who stayed hidden in the shadows of the inner balcony above them all. He finally chose his favorite and as Osador would have guessed, an arrogant young pup called Elian, which Medgar promptly changed to Eliodor.

The lad was sent to the bath house where he would be washed, shaved, groomed, and dressed by Medgar's Scinlaece's. Then, he would be fed the meal of a king, given herbs to relax and sung to sleep by these cunning tofra's who would enchant him and coddle him for weeks on end.

Then and only then would he be brought before Medgar. This was the ruse he used to control his apprentice. Rewarded with luxuries for good behavior or whipped and luxury withheld for disobedience. As far as Osador was concerned it did little to teach the art of their arcane and produced nothing but a spoiled, conceited mage. It was the very reason Cedor jumped from a cliff.

Osador, exhausted from the tension of the day retired to his quarters. He had little time for rest but found that he couldn't sleep anyway. He called for his Grell to bring him a mug of heated bitter herbs and the thin, stunted little creature scurried to do his bid. He swallowed the harsh potion in one gulp and lay back with his eyes closed until his mind relaxed, instructing the Grellian Halfling to rub his feet. The events of the day wafted across his thoughts coming to rest on the boy they lost.

Not Cedor. He wouldn't give two rats of a thought to that hapless brown nose.

No. It was the Grellian lad who claimed his thoughts tonight. He had sensed the lad was somehow different from the others. Not so much in looks, though he was a scant bit taller than the others. No. With him it had been his intelligence which caused Osador to look twice. Oh, the boy tried to hide it, but he had been in the stronghold with them too long, as long as the other children, who barely spoke a word even to each other.

Whereas the fetchlings remained subdued by Medgar's spell-craft, the boy was often found wandering in unexpected places, but upon notice, he never acknowledged the trespass, but instead took on a trance-like expression as if he had no mind whatsoever.

The guards often complained about this to Osador, but to no avail for Medgar was quick to become offended if questioned about his magic saying the boy likely took a fall and had become addled in his mind.

Addled. It infuriated Osador. This Grell fetchling was so addled he was in fact able to read the primitive arcane scratched all over the reliquary walls in the lower keep. Even Medgar hadn't been able to date the writings or access the alchemy of those runes. That's why Osador had gone straight away to Medgar when he discovered the boy down there.

For a first, Medgar grudgingly went along. He didn't like the underground passages as they were always filled with water and difficult to maneuver, but once down there close enough for Medgar to see the boy, it became tragically evident.

Before Medgar could utter a word, he was rendered useless, bound by something even he could not overcome.

The very memory of the sounds evoked by the curse froze Osador in his thoughts and the cold sweat of fear enveloped him so, that he died right there in his bed.

The Grellian child rubbing his feet was instantly freed from his enchantment and all over the fortress as other Grell fetchlings were suddenly set free chaos broke out but the alliance of Medgar could not contain it.

Even the hounds of Mantamel could not be contained as fetchling children and hounds alike poured from every chamber, nook, and hall. A screech of anger echoed through the dark tower as Medgar was made aware of the situation, but it was too late.

The outer baily courtyard filled with commotion as fetchling children ran for their lives.

The small Grell in Osador's chamber trembling and hungry shoved a half-eaten loaf of bread between his teeth and squeezed out of the narrow slit above the bed using Osador's body as a step to his own freedom, dropping down several feet and landing on the back of a guard mage, knocking him to his knees.

Their arcane was useless without Medgar's Bond Mage Osador. The child plummeted the guard with muffled screams, clawing at his face, never losing the bread clenched in his teeth and escaped, taking a large swath of the guards' beard with him.

Throughout the night, the Grells who were able, never stopped running. The dark tangled forests surrounding Oath Guard Tower became a refuge for some while others made it out to neighboring villages.

By morning, the news reached the ears of Eiliq Clack as he ambled along the path to Crescent Cove intent on refilling his ale urns.

The Armiger who led the troops of Riagon Nor, Helkild Glaef, thundered past with an army of the Blade-Forged fast behind him.

Eiliq stumbled to the roadside to keep from being plowed over dropping one of the earthen urns which rolled into the ditch. He cursed a foul sentence having to do with the rudeness of mercenary soldiers, tripped on his tunic and rolled down the small incline into the ditch next to his urn.

"A curse on ye, Riagon Nor!"