The Shaman flung another fireball with a turn of his wrist, laughing as he did. It struck the ground not far from Alden and Ceres' feet in a whoosh of light and heat. They jumped aside, shielding their faces from the rising flare with upraised hands. Alden bent down and slapped at a flame that erupted from his pants cuff.

The Shaman produced two more fireballs to replace the one he expended, seemingly drawing them from the faraway volcano. They swirled above his outstretched hands in a circular motion as he narrowed his eyes. "Surrender the Lady, and you may go on your way. Refuse and die."

Alden placed himself between Ceres and the Shaman. He turned his head to eye the bow and quiver of arrows attached to the saddle of his horse a few paces away.

The robed man shook his head with a sly smile. "Tsk, tsk. Unwise, young man. You would not make it. Oh, and Lady Ceres, try to call a Spirit and, well, your burns will be quite painful."

Alden turned to Ceres and whispered, "Can you send Pyr away?"

"Nay, not while she is linked to him."

Waithe growled as he stepped forward. "I have an offer for you, Shaman. Leave and we shall let you live."

"You try my patience, old man."

A line of fire raced along the ground from the Shaman. Waithe dove out of the way just before it reached him. While the Shaman's attention was on Waithe, Alden grabbed Ceres' arm and pulled her with him behind a large boulder. A fireball flashed red and yellow on the front side of the boulder, setting the grass and brush beside it ablaze.

Waithe ducked behind a large tree. Small fires started by the attacks began to spread in the dry foliage. He knew he had to act soon before it forced Ceres and Alden out into the open. Another fireball struck at the base of the tree as the Shaman laughed in a sick glee. Some of the flames circled the tree, scorching Waithe's arm. The horses spooked and ran past Waithe, but Alden's horse stopped close by.

Waithe called out. "Alden, have you any more of your blast jars?"

Alden replied. "Aye, one more. Right saddlebag."

The Shaman scowled. "I grow tired of this." He raised his arms and two more fireballs began to swirl above him, dancing around the Fire Spirit.

As drifting smoke from the fires obscured the Shaman's view, Waithe jumped out and sprinted the short distance to Alden's horse. He ripped open the saddlebag to extract the jar, also grabbing the bow and arrows attached to the saddle. With a slap to its rump, the horse galloped away. Waithe dove out of the way as another fireball whizzed past. As he rolled, he lit the blast-jar fuse from a patch of burning grass. He tossed the bow and arrows to Alden, then launched the jar. It bounced along the ground and rolled to the feet of the Shaman.

The Shaman smirked as he looked down at the sizzling device. "What toy be this? Some kind of--"

The explosion cut short his words, the sharp sound reverberating off the rocks behind him. He fell back and slumped to the ground. His body writhed as he put his hands to his injured face.

Ceres jumped out from behind the rock. She creased her brow and called out. "Spirit Pyr! Be gone!"

The Spirit disappeared with a fizzling pop. With no power to hold them up, the fireball that moments before swirled above the Shaman dropped, engulfing him in flames. Splintered cries erupted above the roar of the fire. Ceres froze in place as her jaw dropped, eyes glued as the struggling figure that soon stilled stilled within the fire.

Waithe yelled out as he drew his long knife. "This be not over yet!"

The four black-uniformed men that stood behind the Shaman hesitated, as if unsure what to do, then stepped forward with blades drawn. Alden notched an arrow to his bow and jumped out from behind the boulder.

A loud roar erupted from behind the men as a giant charged at them, his massive maul held high. Yorg bared his teeth and yelled a battle cry as he swung his weapon. A dull thud sounded as the maul smashed against the head of one man. Next, a mighty swing crashed through the parried sword of another to strike him down.

The other two men flanked the giant, holding their swords at ready. They stayed just out of reach of Yorg's swinging maul, waiting for an opportunity to attack. Yorg grunted in frustration. Alden took aim and let fly an arrow. One of the men collapsed with the arrow embedded in his chest. With his attention now narrowed, a single swing by the giant took care of the other. Yorg grunted as he nodded to Alden, who smiled and nodded in return.

Ceres ran towards Yorg, weaving through patches of fire. She said in a breathy voice, "Eira, where is she?"

Yorg motioned Ceres and the others to follow. Waithe and Ceres did so while Alden rounded-up the horses. Away from the fires the giant stopped under a large thick tree, then reached up in the leaves to pull down a wide-eyed little girl. He deposited her in Ceres arms. Tears welled in Ceres' eyes as she hugged Eira to her chest.

Ceres handed Eira to Waithe and rushed in to hug the giant, the top of her head only coming up to his chest and her arms unable to fully circle his waist. She whispered, "My dear Yorg, thank you." Yorg's face erupted in a toothy grin and he patted her gently on the back.

*****

Waithe winced as Ceres dabbed the burns on his arm with a green medicinal oil. Within a few moments, the pain subsided. He nodded. "Thank you, daughter."

She did not look up to his eyes, rather keeping them downcast. After a brief pause, a singular sob escaped her mouth.

As Waithe pulled her into a hug against his chest, the tears began to flow. "My dear Ceres, what troubles you so?"

She sniffed. "I... I killed a man today..."

"The Shaman?"

She nodded her head against his chest.

Waithe had all of the arguments as to why the Shaman's death was justifiable: that he would have otherwise killed her companions and taken her away to a dark fate; that he was already lost to the Darkness; that the explosion may have ultimately been fatal anyway; and that she would not have known that the fireball would fall on him once Pyr departed. But she already knew all this. To her, it was still a failing and an irreversible loss of innocence.

He simply whispered, "I understand."

"You warned me this would happen."

"Aye, my dearest daughter. This be an imperfect world. I know you have a good and loving heart. No one else be better suited than you for this noble quest."

"Am I, Father?"

"I firmly believe so. And I think there be a chosen destiny here for us all. Think of it. The Spirits brought us all together. Phy came to you at a young age as a friend. She led you to me and then to Eira. Our path took us to Alden. Then Phy forced our meeting with Yorg, although I wish she would have done that in a different way. You be right about Phy, she be a mischievous one."

A grin came to Ceres. "I suppose so."

Waithe held her at arm's length. "Now that we are away from that wretched volcano, let us see what the Shadow Spellbook might tell us."

*****

The brown leather-bound book was small, when closed only just bigger than an outstretched hand. Ceres sat leaning against Alden as she tentatively opened it. Waithe and Eira prepared a stew over a fire while Yorg laid snoring loudly on a patch of grass.

Ceres sighed, "I hope this book was worth the struggle to retrieve it."

She passed her open palm over the blank pages to reveal the writing as Alden peered over her shoulder. They read silently for some time, pausing only periodically to turn a page. From Ceres' solemn expression, Waithe surmised that the writing disturbed her.

Daylight had begun to fade from the sky when she closed the book. Waithe and Eira took the opportunity to serve the stew as they gathered together around the crackling fire. For a few moments, there was no other sound but the clink of spoons against the metal mugs and an occasional slurp.

Ceres commented between bites. "Father, your stew be wonderful. What is your secret?"

Waithe grinned as he mussed the dark hair of the little girl who sat between him and Ceres. "I think that be Eira's touch." After another spoonful, he asked. "What find you from the Shadow Spellbook?"

"The book is more of a journal than a spellbook. Sorne, that was the name of the Dark Shaman of the Northlands who brought forth the Taint. The history texts had neglected to give that. Sorne was indeed a Tau. Disturbing was it how he turned from that responsibility."

Alden continued as Ceres dipped her spoon into her mug of stew. "He lamented the wars, the death, and desolation from the constant quest for power among the Lords. His parents and sister were some of its victims."

Ceres shook her head. "His words conveyed so much grief and despair. He writes that it ripped the light away from his heart. He sought ways to end the wars and suffering through Magic. He even called on the Time Spirit Aon to reverse time itself, but the Spirit would not respond. His first intentions were not so evil."

Alden spoke, "Aye, but then he began to seek power from the Darkness, and he did become truly powerful, perhaps the most powerful Shaman ever. The writing tells how he learned to crack the barrier and call the dark power forth. Meager it was at first, but as more Darkness flowed through, the crack widened."

Ceres bowed her head. "As his power grew, his writing became as disjointed rants about vengeance and how he despised humanity itself. The Darkness he thought he could control... It seduced and corrupted him. So sad was it."

Yorg grunted and scooped up another mug full from the pot, appearing more interested in the food than the conversation.

Alden continued. "Sorne plotted to bring about the End Times. He wrote that it would put a stop to the pettiness of humanity and bring order to the Realm." He shook his head. "But how would he believe that the end of things be such?"

Ceres said, "Nay, it is not that way. The End Times are not the end of all existence, but the end of free will, of emotion, of everything that makes us human. Then the Darkness would truly reign. Even war and chaos are better than that version of order."

Alden nodded. "As history tells us, the Dark Shaman murdered his Lord and took control of the North Lands. That be true, he wrote of it."

Waithe asked, "How could Sorne bring about the End Times?"

Ceres responded. "That is an important learning from the book. A special connection to the flow of time has a Tau. But once corrupted with Darkness, there is a way for a Tau to call forth the End Times."

Waithe furrowed his brow. "Yet he did not."

"That is because other Tau existed in the Realm, thus the flow of time was still protected." Ceres expression turned grim. "Then he sought to remedy that."

Waithe clenched his jaw as he lowered his mug. "So, it be Sorne who had my wife and your mother murdered."

Ceres cast an absent gaze at the fire's dancing flames. Her voice quivered. "Aye. She... She was the last Tau to be killed."

Alden's eyes grew wide. "He thought all other Tau dead, but unknown to him, one still lived. You, my dear Ceres. Do you realize that your mother saved more than just you? That by her actions she averted the End Times? By the transference of the Tau onto you, the Dark Shaman could still not accomplish his goal."

"Aye, but in its stead, we have the foul Taint." With moistened eyes, she looked up to her father. "My mother called the mark of Tau a burden when she gave it to me, but I feel it not as such. Rather, I feel it an honored duty."

Waithe asked, "What must we do?"

"I must learn to control the Darkness."