Kindle Edition Maldene Category:  Fantasy Publisher: Vault of Knowledge ISBN-10:  1424190304 Type: Fiction Pages: 401 Copyright: 2007 ISBN-13: 9781424190300 Price: $4.95 (eBook) The first Maldene novel continues with our heroes in desperate need of answers to the dark question that is Miro. The first Maldene novel continues with our heroes in desperate need of answers to the dark question that is Miro. A confrontation is inevitable but before that comes, Sabu and his companions need to be better prepared. What does Miro want? Does he have a weakness? And what are these Hevon Gems they seem fated to seek out? Tasked by the King to find these answers before the feared day of destiny that is the Donjflou, they decide to seek them out in the fabled ruins of the last of the Great Human Kingdoms; mighty Thïr T˙orca. The only ancient culture whose fall was not engineered by Miro, perhaps its ruins might house some ancient secrets they can put to use. Allies and enemies alike await them, and more questions than answers, but they will brave anything to save the world from the dark gaze of Miro. Of course, there is the possibility that the ruins could house an ancient trap or worse.       Excerpt CHAPTER NINETEEN: Sydelburg R.K.: 9,990, 23 Arüdwo: We have been traveling along Threegan Road for over a thousand miles now and are well into the interior of Catho. We have had no major incidents impeding our progress and so have been making pretty good progress, even despite the sorry state of our mounts. With Lindel's help, though, our horses have been improving a bit. Along the side of the road we have been traveling, there have been the occasional old stone road-marker. I believe these to be ancient leftovers from the old Kingdoms. Their markings would correspond with the language of the times, and their placement consistent with the Kingdoms' habits of maintaining road systems throughout their domains. I would have loved to study them more carefully, but both Eldar and Lindel reminded me of our goals by physically pulling me away from the markers. Rather rude of them. Especially since the next time we came across one, Lindel urged my horse into a sudden gallop past it. We have encountered a few other travelers along the way, more than a few coming from the interior. Several of them have been fleeing raids from tribes of beast-man creatures coming from the nearby hills and mountains. Apparently these raids have been severe enough to force several families to flee and entire small villages to be abandoned. Quickfoot may have been right about our walking into a little war. We have passed by several small towns poking out from the woods alongside this road, staying in some for the evening, renewing our supplies, and moving on. From such places we have been picking up information on our possible destination. The mountain range of Catho is some six thousand miles long and over fifteen hundred miles wide. While not the largest range in the world, this would be more than big enough to leave us searching until we'd died of old age. The dimensio-book of history has given me some information with which to narrow down the search, but we still need to learn more. We are told that Threegan Road ends at a town up ahead called Sydelburg; maybe there we can learn more. R.K.: 9,990, 24 Arüdwo: We are passing by some farms now, with Sydelburg just up ahead. I've seen some of the farms reduced to scorched plots of land, while others' crops grow but sparsely and weak, as if from poisoned ground. I've seen many people crowding both down the road and in from the countryside towards Sydelburg, their homes on their backs. As we near the edge of town, I see guards about in the streets in greater numbers than one would normally think sufficient. I've seen a makeshift graveyard with several freshly dug graves. Definitely a city under siege. The dirty streets were clogged with humanity; individuals who hadn't had time to wash in many rises of the sun, whole families carrying the remains of their lives with them, as well as the occasional rogue selling the necessities of life at over-inflated prices to the desperate. Bronto had to elbow his large frame through the refugees and the beggars, while Lorel had to wade through the needy as they pulled at him and begged for scraps of food. Lorel gave out what scraps he had on him as the dirty faces passed on by, but it wasn't enough; he realized that it wouldn't ever be enough for this horde of the dispossessed. He couldn't help even a small portion of them. Eldar, his instinct for cities never failing, led them through the crowds, down smaller side streets, and around the maze that was the town, and out into the more spacious town square, its cracked and faded fountain not having seen water for some time now. "We've got to find someone that knows the area, maybe even a local mystic," said Sabu as they walked past open-air cloth booths selling anything from fruits to personal ornamentation. "Maybe I can speed up our search," Sindar offered. "I haven't been idle in the practice of my mental powers, after all." "Okay mister psychic," Eldar mocked lightly, "which way?" As Sindar concentrated, they walked out into the more open central area of the square, people buzzing about around them, as they held their own small island of safety next to the old cracked fountain. "The East side of town, but a short walk from here," Sindar finally said. "I've just spoken to him, and he's expecting us." "That was fast," Eldar remarked, "an appointment and everything." "Then we're off," Shong said. "Good," Lindel sighed, "this wash of refugees is a bit unsettling." "Wait," Lorel stopped them as they were about to leave, concern on his face, "there must be something that we can do to at least alleviate the needs of these masses." "That would do little good," Candol disagreed, "the raids will just produce more. The needs of Indra would have us onward to larger concerns." "And does your Indra not care for the suffering of an individual, or of the impoverished masses before us," Lorel said, face tight with anger. "Touchy, aren't we," Mauklo commented. "I think I'm going to like him." Candol put a hand on Lorel's shoulder and calmly looked him in the eye before answering. "Indra would have us look after the cause of all this about us, and not just cure its symptoms." Lorel looked at the priest, gazed slowly out at the masses passing around them, then back at Candol, the truth of his words showing upon the priest's face. Lorel seemed to consider Candol's words, his face relaxing a bit. "Still," Lorel said, more calmly, the pain of emotion still showing in his look and his stance, "there must be something that we can do to lessen their suffering." "The strong among them will survive," Kilgar shrugged, "the rest should learn to fight better." "You are so cynical for one so young," Lorel said, looking down at Kilgar. "But maybe I shall teach them to fight; or at least how to survive. I must do something while we are here." "Good," Eldar interrupted, "then how's about you take Bronto, Shong, and Kilgar, and go work on that while we get our directions." "That I shall!" Lorel brightened. "No help shall be refused while I am about." "Then again," Mauklo sighed, "I may have spoken too soon." "Kilinir and myself have our own errands to seek after," Kor-Lebear put in as he stood next to Kilinir, "maybe we'll join you later." "One wonders what type of errands those two would have," Lindel commented. "Then we'll meet back here at nightfall," Sabu said, "and leave tomorrow when the sun rises at mid morn." A cloaked figure watched them from amongst the surrounding crowds as they left to their various errands. The room they walked into seemed small, so crowded was it with all manner of books, vials, and odd implements of research and magic. Dust hung from the low ceiling in wispy cobwebs, the dim light leaking through the covered windows lightly illuminating them. The frail door slammed shut behind them, as they saw the only other exit to this room was a door-like opening on the opposing wall, covered over with a thin grey cloth. Sabu, Eldar, Sindar, and Mauklo had entered the mystic's small abode, the others with them having decided to stay outside. The mystic's place was at the very edge of the city's eastern side, being surrounded by a small slum area with a fair view of the outlying farms and the distant mountains beyond. It was an innocuous shack in an innocuous part of town. "Are you sure he knows we're coming?" Eldar asked, as they looked around. Before anyone could answer, a voice came from the area beyond the covered opening. "Of course I know you're coming! I'm a mystic, aren't I?" came the irascible voice. "Sotüva, you young ones can be dense sometimes." They looked over as, from behind the grey cloth, walked out the mystic. He was old and grey, his white hair coming down to his shoulders, his chin clean-shaven, his skin the white one gets from having seen no sun in too long a time. He wore a long night-shirt, its dingy off-whiteness coming down to his bare ankles. He walked with a slight stoop, and with small steps, but at a fast hurried shuffle that told of an energy that only true impatience can supply. "I heard your friend's mind call," he said rapidly. "Dangerous thing, broadcasting your mind openly like that; no telling who else could hear you. Sit down anywhere." They looked first at the source of this rapid tirade, blinking at him in mild befuddlement, and then looked around for a place to sit. The old man went over to a dusty old chair and sat down, while Sabu and Eldar tried to find a place for themselves. "Just move some of that stuff aside," the old man said, "my name's Bathow." Sabu gently moved some old books aside and sat down on what looked to be a chair, while Eldar just shrugged and, rather noisily, pushed a whole section of books, vials, and whatnot, off of a table and sat up on top of it. "My name's Sindar, and I think I'll stand," responded Sindar, looking around doubtfully. "I think I'll supply my own seat," Mauklo said, walking over to an open space. Mauklo pointed a finger at the ground next to him and, with a short pfft, a clean, small, leather-bound chair appeared. "There," he said, while sitting down, "definitely more dignified." "Oh yeah," Eldar smiled, "never mess with his dignity." "My name is-" Sabu began, offering his hand out to Bathow. "I know who you are," Bathow interrupted impatiently, turning to shuffle through some papers on an old desk, "I'm the best mystic in Catho, so give me some credit. You want to know how to get to the Dragon Mountains and the Valley of Lights. A fool's errand if ever I heard one. Especially with all the raiding going on between here and there." "The petty squabblings of some goat-herders and beast-men shall not deter us," Mauklo said calmly. "If you are truly as good as you say," Sabu said, "then you should know why these raids will not stop us." "I think he's just faking it," Eldar said, dangling his feet off the edge of the table. "Sindar told him our names when he made mental contact. The rest, he doesn't know from horse flop." "I know enough to keep shut in front of my elders," Bathow growled. "Ha," Eldar smiled, "I'm probably older than you are. I just don't show it like you humans." "Older and twice as foolish," Bathow countered. "Yes, I have the information that you want, and it's enough to get you all killed. You should do what I do; hide from the forces of darkness and hope that they pass you by." "I have little patience for cowards," Mauklo stated calmly. "You may call it being cowardly," Bathow replied, "I call it staying alive long enough to pass my knowledge on to others, that it may not be lost." "And then, what would you expect those others to do with the knowledge that you give them?" Sabu asked. "Why, keep themselves safe and hidden so that they too may pass on the knowledge when their time comes." Bathow replied. "But then, of what use," Sindar interrupted calmly, "is having power and knowledge if you can't improve the world with it? If you have such knowledge, yet hide away with it, then you do even less than the peasants outside. By not using your knowledge, it is as if the knowledge had never existed in the first place. What then do you preserve your knowledge for?" Silence came down with Sindar's words, spoken with the calmness of truth, while Bathow seemed lost in thought. Finally, he looked up, his grey eyes now showing a purpose. He raised up his right hand, rolled it tight into a clenched fist, and muttered a few quick syllables under his breath. A quick flash of light discharged from his fist, and then he relaxed his grip, letting down his hand. "We are safe from unwanted ears now," Bathow said more calmly, "and I can assure you, my young wizard, that I do what I can." "Aside from acting so unpleasant, you mean?" Eldar observed. "There are forces that seek after those who would boldly do right," Bathow said, "and knowledge and power are useless if one is dead. So, I hide. I do what I can for the world around me but . . ." "Just not too openly," Eldar finished, taken aback, "I'm sorry." "You seem kind of open to us." Sabu pointed out. "Like I said," Bathow replied, "I'm good at what I do. I've been waiting for you all for a good number of rels now. It has been for the likes of yourselves that my knowledge has been passed down through the generations; ever since the time of the old Kingdoms. Here are the maps that you came for." Bathow reached amongst the papers he'd been shifting around on his desk, and produced some rolled up into a cylinder. These he handed to Sabu. "Since the old Kingdoms, you say?" Sabu asked. "From what source did it originate?" "My ancestor was a high advisor for one of the Kingdoms," Bathow answered. "When the world collapsed around him, he sought to preserve some things for future generations, that his learning not be lost in the mists of time." "Indeed some things worth learning," Sindar observed. "Perhaps you could serve as our teacher, maybe even travel with us." "No; time is short," Bathow replied, relaxing back into his chair, "he hunts for you more than any. Be careful, for the game is his." "Anyone know what he's talking about?" Eldar asked. "Obviously," Mauklo said, "he's giving us some precognitive advice." "It is never what it seems," Bathow quietly intoned, his eyes looking distant, "never. Don't spend a lifetime learning that the hard way; like I did." "If you have been waiting for so many rels," Sabu asked, when Bathow had finally stopped and was beginning to lose his distant look, "why now, do you seem so rushed?" "It is good that you do not yet have any family," Bathow said, seeming to ignore Sabu's question, "those that would be heroes should not have anyone close that can be threatened." "I had a family once," Bathow reminisced, "A wife and two stout sons, at an age when I sought to change things. I learned the hard way how one can be broken. Now, I have no one to pass on my learning to; my knowledge shall finally be lost." Bathow looked thoughtful, then suddenly shook himself out of his reverie. "Ignore the ramblings of an old used-up man," Bathow said, a bit more briskly, "and pay attention to his advice. Time is short." Before they had time to ask another question, the outside door flung open, a golden-haired elven figure standing in the doorway. "A raid comes," Lindel said, notched bow ready in his hands, "a cloud of smoke rising up through the farmlands. There looks to be a lot of them." "That's the trouble with that spell," Bathow said, getting up, "it not only protects one from being heard, but from hearing as well." "Sounds like a reason to rumble," Eldar said, hopping up off the edge of the table. "So much for our dose of altruistic advice," Mauklo said, standing up, the conjured chair disappearing in another short pfft. "I'm sure we might be able to do something about this raid," Sabu said as he got up, "we've faced worse." Bathow just smiled as they all went outside. It was afternoon outside, Bathow was the last to leave his small home. They walked down the street, towards where the city suddenly left off, overlooking the farms beyond. They were on a slight rise, Candol and Quickfoot there waiting for them, a large cloud of smoke rising in the distance. "Sounds like we might get a little workout," Eldar grinned. "After all, how bad can these beast-men be?" Thunder, the sound of a hundred deep drums, come beating through the ground. Distant cracks of lightning, rumbling low and rhythmic. "Someone tell me I don't recognize that sound," Eldar said. Quickfoot dived behind Candol's fluttering robes, his face peering out from behind. "I remember them!" Quickfoot whimpered. They watched as the distant cloud of dust got closer, along with the thunderous hooves. "It certainly sounds the same," Eldar said, looking less sure of himself than before. "If you wish to have a look at our foe," Bathow said, coming up next to them, "there is a way." With a wave of his hand, the air in front of him shimmered and shifted, quickly forming into an image, floating up in the air in front of them. They all looked at what the image beheld. "Chupek; it can't be!" Lindel exclaimed. "You mean there's a whole tribe of these things?" A cloaked figure crouched atop a nearby rooftop, observed them as they watched the conjured image. Horses danced through the vision, large horses, their hooves almost claws, long mangy hair covering their bodies, their breath snorting out angry dark smoke. On their backs were the beast-men, their twisted animal faces glaring out as their clawed hands tugged the reins ever tighter. Through the image their distant guttural cries could be heard, as they swung their twisted swords out in front of them. "They're just like the ones we killed back when we met Lindel, Sindar, and the others," Candol said, peering at the image. "That's okay," Eldar brightened, getting out his sword, "we killed them before, we'll do it again. And now we're better at it than before." "We'll need to be," Lindel said, nodding towards the approaching cloud, "take a look at the size of that cloud." Sabu bit his lip, looking at both the image and the cloud of dust, as if quickly calculating something. Finally, he turned to Sindar. "Call the others," Sabu said in a serious tone, "there's hundreds of them out there." "It would be in the best interest of the local rich to help these refugees," Lorel was saying as he, Bronto, Shong, and Kilgar walked up the street towards the large house. "If we could convince at least one of them to offer some assistance, then we will have helped." "I guess so," Shong said doubtfully, "but diplomacy isn't among my skills. I feel much more comfortable in battle than with words." "You and me both, my friend," Bronto chuckled. "Words are a waste of time," Kilgar said, clutching his long curved knife, "politicians use words." "Don't worry, comrades; if need be, I shall do the talking," Lorel said, as they went up to the door. The door had a large ornate knocker, with which Lorel pounded twice, each thud echoing loudly throughout the large house beyond. Moments passed before the large door began to slowly creak open. "We would speak with the good sir or madame of the house," Lorel began speaking immediately, "about the plight of the poor refugees that you have surely noticed about town." The door opened fully, revealing a lady. Definitely into old age, yet still walking with the straight back of vigor and youth, her white hair seemed to stand straight up on its own, radiating out in all directions from her head like they were trying their best to launch themselves outwards. Her white wrinkled skin suggested tiny stringy muscles underneath. Her rich-looking, if somewhat old, clothes hung around her like a small tent protecting its young, if such a structure could indeed have any. She looked out at them, wrinkled face expressionless. "I am the owner of this house," she said in a high cracked voice that sounded like broken glass. "We would not trouble you," Lorel went on, "but it weighs upon the soul to see such numbers in so desperate a situation. Now maybe, with your own fine fortune, you could at least help feed some of the desperate that have . . ." While Lorel prattled on, her eyes looked at each of them in turn, finally wandering over to Shong, who just gave a polite nervous smile. The lady then smiled broadly, her wrinkles slowly moving out of the way of her expanding mouth, as she interrupted Lorel's speech. "Well!" she almost shouted, in a screech of a voice that could compete with fingernails on a chalkboard. "Aren't you just the cute one! Why, come in, come in." Shong turned his head to look behind him and see who, in his direction, she was talking to. Unfortunately, there was no one behind him. She opened the door wide, and motioned them in. Lorel led the way in with an offered 'thank-you', followed by Kilgar, Bronto, and Shong. "I think she likes you," Bronto whispered to Shong. "Don't say that," he whispered back. The interior of the grand house looked richly furnished, or rather would be if someone had bothered to clean it the last several rels. The ceiling high overhead boasted a dusty and cracked chandelier with several old candles in it. A carpeted staircase wound up to a second floor at the rear of the large greeting room. Dusty carpets lay everywhere, and the tall windows were all covered over with thick layers of tapestries. The door closing behind them, the rich old lady turned to face them. "My name is Margo Courtneed," she said, staring directly at Shong, "but you can call me Margo. Do you know you're just the cutest young man to come in my home in a long while; ever since my fifth husband died." "Miss Courtneed," Lorel interjected, "about the poor refugees, surely you have noticed-" "Oh, there's always refugees," she said offhandedly, and then faced Shong again, smile on her face. "So, have you a wife?" "Uh, no," Shong said doubtfully, "I've never been-" "Ah good," she went on. "You know, you remind me of my third husband." "Miss Courtneed," Lorel persisted, "the raids are a danger to all, they deprive one of their homes and lives. That is why they so need your help." "You look just sooo strong," her voice screeched on, as she walked up next to Shong, putting a flirtatious wrinkled arm around his waist. "I bet you're pretty good with that sword. Care to show a mature lady how to use it?" Her old dress hung loosely about her old skinny limbs. A smile cut through the crevices of her face as she batted eager old eyes at Shong. "She scares me more than that first dragon did," Kilgar whispered to Bronto. "You and me both kid," Bronto whispered back with a quiet chuckle. "Uh, my friend here is right," Shong said, trying to politely squirm his way out of Margo Courtneed's grip. "The needs of the refugees are much more important than any personal ones." "Oh, if that's all that's stopping you," she said, drawing her arm even tighter around Shong's waist. "I'll see that they're fed whatever I can spare. Will that make you happy?" "Why may the gods of good thank you, my lady," Lorel said, though Miss Courtneed seemed oblivious to the others, "an act that shall surely reward the giver." "Now, with business done," she continued, "how do you feel about large weddings?" Shong looked imploringly at Bronto, helpless in the old withered arms of the assertive lady. Bronto grinned back at his friend's predicament before intervening. "I am afraid that he already has a girlfriend," Bronto said. "Oh?" she responded, looking up at the others for the first time. "Three as a matter of fact," Bronto continued, "and he must already decide between them." Shong looked like he had severe stomach pains, while Margo glanced back at him in surprise. "Is this true?" she asked. "Well, uh," he hesitated. Shong looked up at the wrinkled face looming over him, the rich old clothes, and the hair trying to still launch itself outwards. He came to a decision. "Why, uh, yes," he said, hesitantly, "there are these three young girls who-" "Ha, is that all?" she said, resuming her smile and attempt at a seductive pose. "I can compete with any young girl. I can offer you anything they can." "They're the King's daughters," Bronto said. "They are?" she asked surprised, and then looked a bit downcast. "I suppose that's a bit hard to compete with." "And, if there's one thing I would never want to do is offend a King," Shong said hopefully, as he squirmed his way out of her loosened grip, "especially the biggest King around." "I suppose," she replied despondently. Shong was halfway to Bronto when he looked on at the poor woman, feeling sorry for her. "And besides," he added, "they're so young, if I were to refuse them all they couldn't take it nearly as well as one of your mature worldliness. You know how young girls are." "Why yes," she brightened. "The poor dears, I mustn't be so selfish. They could get broken-hearted so easily." Shong looked relieved. Then, Margo got a bright look in her eyes and looked over at Shong. "Maybe, in a few rels, when they're over their infatuation with you . . .," she offered, in her cracked screech of a voice. At that timely moment, Bronto's eyes got a distant look to them for but a moment. His face turned serious as called out. "Sindar," he said, "he calls to us. The beast-men are making a raid on the town." "Oh, then we must go to protect the town," Shong said, grabbing out his sword as he mouthed a silent 'thank-you' to whatever gods may be listening, "and to see that no vile beast comes near your precious self." They all rushed to the door before Margo could think to stop them. Shong was the first one out. "Thank-you, my hero," she called out after him, as Bronto and Kilgar quickly followed their comrade out. "I will not forget your gallantry." "And thank-you, Miss Courtneed, for the gift to the refugees that you are to make," Lorel said, still standing in the doorway. "The gods shall smile upon thee for being so-" Lorel's speech was suddenly interrupted by a large arm grabbing him around the chest and quickly lifting him out through the door. "Oh," Margo Courtneed sighed, "it's always the cute ones that are so brave." A hundred men were arrayed along the edge of town, each in his studded leather armor with his own sword ready for immediate use. Bathow stood with Sabu and the others at what seemed to be in the middle of their lineup, watching the cloud get ever closer. A dark-haired man dressed in metal scale armor approached them from the back ranks. "No civilians in the front lines," he said. "Get back to town; you too, old man." "The officer in charge, I take it," Sabu said. "Captain, we have fought these creatures before; we may be able to be of assistance." "Now there's an understatement," Eldar said under his breath. "And Bathow here is a great mystic," Sabu finished. "I'll have no responsibilities for wet-behind-the-ears civilians and the local crazy man," the Captain answered. "I'm sure you mean well, but this is work for professionals. And, as for Bathow here being a mystic, if he is then where's he been hiding it all this time?!" "He's right about that," Bathow said, his night-shirt flapping in the breeze, his white hair hanging about his shoulders, as the Captain shouted out orders to his troops. "I haven't been of much use in my life. Maybe it isn't too late to change that." "In the eyes of Indra, it never is," Candol advised. "Okay now," the Captain came back to them, "no priests, young pups, and old men at the front. They'll be here in moments." "Since you refuse to listen," Sabu said, "then let me put it this way." Sabu faced out towards the oncoming cloud, now easily discernible as contorted figures riding atop their mangy mounts of death, swords singing through the air in anticipation of blood and death. He raised up his staff, muttering several indecipherable syllables under his breath. The Captain just shook his head and stepped towards him, but was blocked by the point of Eldar's sword. "Not a good idea," Eldar smiled, "just wait for it." The top of the staff glowed a bright blue, as well did one watery-looking gem set atop it. Sabu pointed his staff at the oncoming horde. Crack of thunder, ground splitting open. Sound of rocks tearing apart, the rumble of large masses of ground being moved aside as if by some large hand. The earth beneath their feet shook as the ground in front of the horde tore loose from itself. Mounts tumbled as the ground beneath their clawed hooves moved and buckled. Directly in their path, stretching all along their oncoming front line, a large crack opened up in the ground. Ten feet wide it opened, swallowing the first rows of screaming mounts finding themselves suddenly charging into its depths. But Sabu wasn't finished, for with the sudden bright glowing of the Water Hevon Gem, a wall of water soared straight up out of the pit, remaining as a standing wall of water ten feet thick, over a rent in the ground that still didn't know its own depth. Sabu lowered his staff, cocked his head to one side, and looked the Captain in the eye. "Okay," the Captain said slowly as he took in the scene, "I guess you can stay after all." "I knew you'd see it our way," Eldar said, lowering his sword. "And you say old Bathow here's a mystic," the Captain asked hopefully, "for if he really is, then we sure could use him." "The best," said Sabu, the hope and faith in his eyes staring straight at Bathow, as if by will force alone would he wake the old mystic up from his self-pity. Bathow straightened himself up as all eyes focused on him. He straightened out his nightshirt as well as his stoop. He raised his chin, a defiant look taking hold of his face. Time seemed to peel itself off of him like an old rind, as a new determination seemed to youthen his entire self. He looked at the Captain, dingy nightshirt flapping in the wind, the roaring sound of Sabu's wall of water in the background. "Yes, I'm the best mystic in all of Catho," Bathow said, in a voice more sure of itself, "and it's about time I started to act like it." Bathow snapped his fingers, and his old dingy shirt changed into a deep purple robe, its dark color speckled with strange mystical symbols. Around his neck he now wore a glistening pendant, its purple gem set into a golden sunburst. The Captain's eyes opened wide with astonishment, several other nearby troops also staring at the wizards in their midst. Bathow raised his hands up to waist level, palms upwards. He just concentrated a few moments, not even muttering a single syllable. Traceries of light seemed to flick across his palms then dance outwards, leaping first to the Captain and then outwards to each of the arrayed soldiers in turn, spreading like some bizarre wildfire of light. Bathow put his palms down and then looked up at the Captain. "My powers are those of divinations and protections, as handed down my family line from the great Purple Wizard of the old Kingdoms, from a time now forgotten. You and your men are now protected from the bulk of what those beasts can deal out. But I suggest that you hurry." The astonished Captain looked out at where the old mystic had nodded. Through the wall of water now, the hook-hoofed mounts and their nightmarish riders were leaping, most landing in a fallen heap, but all quickly getting back up again. They stayed there as more of them came through, as if waiting for their numbers to grow before charging forth. "Okay men," the Captain shouted, "come on, let's get them while they're down. Charge!" As the Captain sounded his charge, the robed figure on the rooftop looked straight at the back of Bathow, a soft dry high-pitched cackle escaping from beneath the hood. Bronto drew his immense sword from off his back as they ran down the crowded streets. The sounds of battle were in the distance as people scurried about to seek refuge in their homes and businesses. Shong was at his side as he rounded a corner to catch up with Kilgar and Lorel, also weaving their way through the panicking crowds. "This city sure is . . . a lot bigger when you have to . . . run across its entire length . . . in but a few short diids," Shong commented between breaths as he ran. "As Eldar would say, what fun would a battle be if we didn't have to work for it," Bronto said, without even breathing hard. "How bad do you think it is?" Shong asked, as they rounded a corner, nearing the edge of town. "All Sindar said was that we're in the middle of a small war," Bronto said, "and that was good enough for me." "Given the circumstances," Shong replied, "having to rescue someone's pet cat would have been enough to get me out of there." Bronto smiled at his friend's close escape from Margo as they finally came to where the buildings suddenly dropped off in favor of the surrounding farms. Kilgar and Lorel were standing at the edge of the small road, looking down the grassy slope at what lay below, when they finally caught up to them. "I know not what type of vile creatures they fight," Lorel was saying, "but we must help those men down there that fight them." "We know what they are," Bronto said, looking down over Lorel from half a foot higher, "and they're very dangerous." "By the beard of my koren," Shong remarked, "there's so many of them this time." "How is it that the city troops hold out so well against them?" Kilgar asked. "They should be torn apart." "That'll be Sabu's doing no doubt," Bronto answered. "We must fight by their sides to protect the city," Lorel decided as he then ran down the slope, sword in hand, to join the battle. "Wait," Shong shouted, "you don't know these creatures!" "Well," Kilgar said, pulling his knife, "that's one more we have to protect." "Come on," Bronto said, as they all charged down the grassy slope. The city's troops had met the creatures as they came through the giant wall of water, gaining the advantage as the beasts came plunging through. But the creatures were tough enough to still prove more than a challenge. The troops' swords had little effect on the creatures or their mounts, as the creatures in turn sliced through with their own steel-blue swords, shattering the troops' swords, slicing through their studded leather armor. But Bathow's magic was still serving its purpose: the troops were proving harder to kill than the invading creatures might have expected. The weeds in the field became fiery tendrils, reaching up to grab at the clawed hooves of the creatures' mounts, as Sindar flexed forth his magic. Eldar was out in the field, his sword alight with deep red flame, slashing at nearby beast-men and their mounts. Lindel stood with Sindar, each carefully aimed dark-metal arrow sailing forth from his bow landing square between the eyes of an invader. Candol was with Bathow, lending the support of Indra in the protection of the troops, while Quickfoot had found a safe spot behind a wall from which to throw his precious daggers. Sabu was standing next to Mauklo and Sindar, lowering his staff after having just delivered a bolt of lightning at one of the creatures. Mauklo watched the battlefield with interest. "We may be able to help them win this little war," Sabu commented. "It isn't a war," Mauklo said, in a matter-of-fact voice. "Maybe it's too small to be a war by your standards," said Lindel while notching his next arrow, "but it's big enough for these people." "That's not what I meant," Mauklo said, "I meant that those creatures aren't fighting as if they're in a war." "Sounds like you have an interesting observation to make," Sabu said as he thought about what next spell to use. "Notice how they change tactics," Mauklo pointed out towards the battlefield. "They have no set battle or plan of attack. They try several different methods of combat, retreat, and then try again differently." "I see what you mean," Sabu said as he studied the battle below more carefully. "If not a war, what then?" "It's a training exercise," Mauklo said. "Some other force or commander of theirs has sent them on these raids, and at this city, in an effort to train them in combat." "What would they be training for, then?" Sindar wondered, as he finished up his latest spell. Lindel's arrow sizzled through the air to impact in the skull of one of the creatures while they thought this over, its pointed tip protruding straight out the back of the center of its deformed head. Bolts of blue flame shot out from the swords of some of the creatures, roasting a few of the troops beyond what the protections of Bathow and Candol could withstand. Eldar slashed away with his flaming sword as one of the creatures took aim at his back. The tip of the sword flashed blue as Eldar battled away unawares. "Eldar, look out!" The shout had boomed across the field, attracting the elf's attention like a blow to the gut. He turned to see flaming blue death racing through the air towards him, but a few scant feet away, and closing. He saw within its flames the death it had caused back on the island where he had first met Sindar, the death of Thorlan at its fiery touch. Almost instinctively, he raised his flaming sword as if to deflect it. The blue flame hit. Like light hitting a mirror, the blue bolt deflected off of Eldar's own fiery sword, to slice through the air and hit, instead, another of the beast riders. The unintentional target had but a brief moment of shock before he was reduced to a shower of black dust drifting upon the wind. "Hey great!" Eldar shouted. "I didn't know I could do that. I'm liking these Hevon Gems better all the time." Eldar turned around to have a look at the source of the bellowed shout that saved his life. He was rewarded with the sight of one of the beast-men flying through the air, mount and all. It landed with a water-drowned scream as it went into Sabu's wall of water. The six-foot seven-inch source of both the shout and the flying horse came running across the field, large sword out in front of him. "Bronto!" Eldar shouted out, as he raised his greeting. Another figure came leaping down beside Bronto. Landing in the midst of several of the mounted fiends, he whirled his sword about with a speed and accuracy that most mortal men would never learn. He landed on the back of one of the mounts, quickly beheading its rider with his sharp sword, and jumped up again as another nearby rider slashed down at him. The creature slashed down through empty air, instead hitting down upon the spine of the riderless mount, for Shong was now on the back of another rider. Its spine severed by the blow, the riderless mount collapsed to the ground in an unearthly scream of agony. A high-pitched battle cry caused one of the mounted creatures to turn towards the source, just in time to have a long curved knife plunge straight into his forehead. As the rider fell wide-eyed onto the ground, Kilgar ran over to retrieve his knife. "It's about time you guys came and joined the fun!" Eldar shouted as he slashed about with his own sword. Another blond-haired figure came slicing down into the midst of the creatures, curses for the foe upon his lips, his sword singing out in front of him. From up on the hilltop, Sabu and Sindar watched while Lindel let loose with another arrow. "Lorel looks to be brave enough," Sabu commented, "but foolish." "He doesn't know those creatures as do we," Sindar agreed calmly, "he could get himself killed." A bolt of blue flame shot down in front of Eldar. The elf leaped aside, looking up a bit angrily at the rider, several yards away, that had sourced it. "Hey, cut that out!" he shouted, then brightened with an idea. "Okay, two can play at that game." He pointed his flaming sword at the rider and briefly concentrated. A long tongue of red flame leapt out of the sword and towards the rider. Both rider and mount exploded into a screaming flaming mass, charging off through the battle. "Ha! That'll show ya'!" Eldar exclaimed. Lorel bravely chopped his way through the battle, as if trying to face off the entire small army by himself. He fought by the sides of the city's troops, his sword in front, as a rider's blue steel sword met with his own. Blue steel cleaved through normal steel, shattering Lorel's sword upon impact. Lorel took a few steps back, his eyes searching about for a new weapon. "I shall smite thee with my bare hands, if need be," he shouted out. One of the city's troops slammed back against him, the body sagging limply to the ground, a large hole through his chest. Without a thought, Lorel quickly grabbed up the dead man's sword, brandishing defiance with it, as another body flung itself at his feet, dead. Lorel looked around himself. The six or so city troops that he was fighting with were now all dead. Surrounding him were the grinning beast faces of the riders, all looking ready to sharpen their swords upon his bones. Lorel, not a frightened thought in him, continued to hold onto his sword defiantly. "Okay," he said, ready in his battle crouch, "let's see how many of you want to come down with me." At that moment, the mount and rider that Eldar had turned into a living campfire came riding by at breakneck speed, past the backs of two of the riders encircling him, and straight towards the wall of water. Lorel looked at the flaming hand of death ride by, his eyes widening, his jaw quivering. "Fire," he said softly, "why'd it have to be fire . . ." His voice trailed off as his sword dropped from his hands, eyes widening with the pure fear that only the truly fearful can have. The riders watched in puzzlement as Lorel dropped down to his knees and began to whimper. "I hate fire," he said quietly, as the flaming rider and mount finally hit the wall of water in an explosion of fire and steam, "fire, . . ." He curled down into a crumpled heap, twitching spasmodically. "I was afraid he would get himself killed," Sabu said as they watched Lorel from atop the hill. "He and your other friends who just charged onto the field, weren't protected by my spell," Bathow said. "I had no warning." "Well, Bronto and the others probably don't need it anyway," Sabu smiled, and then frowned, "but Lorel, . . ." The riders closed around Lorel, ready for some brief fun before they went back to the rest of the battle. Lorel began to twitch violently before he was closed off from sight. "Too late now," Sindar pointed, "they've got him." "Now's when the fun starts," Mauklo said to himself as he looked on. Suddenly, one of the riders exploded from off of his saddle, knocked from his saddle by some sudden force. It landed on the ground, clutching at his crotch and rolling around screaming. A small figure leaped up on top of its mount, blood dripping from its mouth as it looked at the screaming creature, chewing something. It swallowed and grinned out at the others around it devilishly. It was short, little more than four feet tall and ninety pounds; green hair hanging down in scraggly lengths to its shoulders, dark green eyes looking out from a face dimpled with warts. Its tough-looking skin was green and leathery, with what could be either warts or old feather stumps, all encasing its shriveled looking body. Clawed nails tore off the last vestiges of once-clean armor and smooth cape, flinging them to the ground as it gnashed its fanged teeth in anticipation. Its eyes held the looks of an insanity far beyond even what the riders seemed to want to put up with. It lunged at the nearest rider. The rider brought his sword to bear a bit too late, as the small creature went clawing and tearing for the rider's throat. The rider's sword arm flung from side to side trying to ward the creature off. But the small one didn't seem to want to kill its prey, instead slashing at it, ripping the skin away in ragged lengths and spitting acid saliva into the wounds. The blue sword flashed brilliant with bolts of blue flame behind its back as the rider struggled vainly to stay conscious. The other riders nearby hurried out of the way of the randomly flying bolts of blue flame. Finally, the small one stood up on the mount, looking down at his handiwork, as the now dead rider started to slip off of the mount. It spotted the blue sword and bent to pick it up by the hilt, then slashed with the sword a few times in the air while the mount under his feet bucked, sending him to the ground. "Ow!" it said in a voice like unto gravel with a sore throat. "Pain! Schanter not like pain! Schanter love pain!" It stood up, carrying its new found sword. It pointed the sword in the direction of the fleeing mount. "Schanter no like shaggy horse," it said. A bolt of blue flame leaped out, hitting and engulfing the fleeing horse, as it exploded into bits of hot hairy charcoal landing upon the ground. "Ow! Schanter don't like fire," it said, leaping up and down in both fear and delight. "Fire! Fire pain; love pain!" It started to aim the sword at other points in the battle, the look of madness in its eyes perhaps even more scary than the attacking beast riders. "Our friend Lorel appears to have been keeping a secret," Sabu observed casually from atop the hill, as the small creature began chasing one of the mounted riders with bolts of blue flame. "Yes, a rather serious case of insanity coupled with subconscious lycanthropic abilities," Sindar responded, "and I can see in its rather twisted mind that, while Schanter appears to know of Lorel, Lorel isn't aware of the existence of Schanter. He appears completely ignorant of his condition." "Well, let's not tell him," Sabu advised, "I think it better that way. We'll have to warn the others about him too." "It is kind of funny," Mauklo said, smiling pleasantly. "Funny?" said Quickfoot, coming up to the others. "He's seriously insane; that guy's wacko!" "The humor, my little friend, comes in when you realize that Po-Adar saw this within him when we encountered them both. That was his joke upon us all; waiting for it to come forth unexpectedly. That was why he let Lorel live. Old Po must be somewhere laughing at us all by now." "Well, joke or not," Lindel interjected, "we have a battle to fight, and there's still too many of those creatures out there." Sure enough, more of the creatures kept leaping out through the wall of water, and others had even found their way around the long crack in the ground. As great a help as the strength of Bronto, the sword skill of Shong, Kilgar's knife, and Eldar's attitude were, there were still more and more of the creatures. The city's troops were slowly backing up against the hillside, standing against the inevitable weight of sheer numbers. "He's right," Sabu said, "there's too many of them, and there's too many of the city guard down there for me to try any large scale magic without hurting them too." "I may be of help," Bathow walked over, his purple robes flapping in the wind. "I have within me a spell, the likes of which no dark force may suspect that I have. I can erect a shield around this entire city, protecting it from these raids for good." "Then just don't stand there," Candol said as he too joined them, "in the name of Indra do it!" "You appear to have been hiding a lot from your people," Sabu remarked. "Hiding I have been doing for far too long," Bathow replied. "This spell shall take a lot out of me, but I shall try. I will need to concentrate for a while." Bathow closed his eyes in concentration, raising his arms heavenward. They could feel the energy crackle around him as the winds picked up in force. "Sindar, call the others back," Sabu said, "we don't want anybody getting caught on the wrong side of this shield." Sindar nodded and sent out his mental message as power rose around Bathow. The old mystic lifted his eyes towards the sky. "I do for this town what I couldn't do for my own family, so long ago," he shouted out into the winds. "To protect!" Thunder crackled as a shell of air seemed to harden itself over the city. Everyone watched the mystic as he concentrated on the most powerful magic in his long life. Sound of thunder clashing down upon one's soul. Red streamers, as life's fluid goes streaming out from outstretched hands. Old body shivering as purple robe stains red with the blood flying out from every pore. Thunder crackle quickly dispersed as a dying mystic loses hold of his spell, to collapse upon the ground. "Bathow!" Sabu and Sindar both shouted as they leapt over to the fallen mystic's body. Bathow coughed up blood as Sabu bent over him, young learned eyes searching for a reason. From up off the field, Eldar came running to join them. "Hey guys," Eldar said cheerfully, "I heard Sindar. What's-" He stopped short as he saw Bathow lying there upon the ground, blood from head to toe, his skin as raw meat. The silver-haired elf quickly knelt down at his side, cheerfulness suddenly turned to concern. "What happened?" he asked. "We don't know," Sabu answered, "one moment he was casting this spell, and then-" A loud dry cackle interrupted them. From atop a nearby roof stood a robed figure, clawed hands peering out from its sleeves. The wind flung back its hood, revealing a face that could only be called female in the loosest sense of the word. Black hair hung down like dry rags about her deformed features, her eyes dark with hate. She glared down at them with dark intent. "Loma," Bathow choked out, "I might have known you were behind the raids." "You reveal yourself too soon old fool," came Loma's dry cackle of a voice. "You should have stayed in hiding and let it all pass you by." "Who is this hag?" Eldar asked. "A witch," Bathow wheezed out weakly, "the dark forces she serves are best left alone, but she-" A spat of coughing up blood cut off what he was saying, while Loma just cackled joyfully. Candol came over to Bathow's side. "I can help him," Candol said as he knelt down, "it isn't too late." "Touch him and die priest!" Loma yelled, as she pointed a clawed finger at them. A red-colored bolt of lightning leaped out from her pointing hand. It sailed through the air, arrowing straight towards Bathow, the force of its passage knocking them all aside. Bathow's weak eyes just had time to see the rapidly approaching moment of his death before it struck. In a scream of agony, the red bolt hit, sending reddened chunks of flesh flying everywhere. The remains of the old mystic that weren't splattered all over everyone, were left as a withered husk of old meat, too beat up as to be recognizable as anything but a slaughterhouse leftover. To say that Bathow was dead, would be putting it mildly. "Now for all the other would-be heroes," Loma's cracked voice called out. "As if this brave man hadn't had a hard enough life, you have to have him end it this way," Sabu said getting up. "I'm getting real tired of seeing this sort of thing happen all the time." "Then you can die as did he," she cackled, "that you won't see it anymore. Feel the wrath reserved for all those who cross the mighty Vold and his allies." Suddenly the distant roar of Sabu's wall of water changed pitched as it collapsed back down into the crack from whence it came with a loud splash. Both armies looked on in puzzlement at the sudden change, as an entire army of riders was revealed, stretching out beyond the deep crevice into the fields beyond. Then the ground began to shake as a central portion of the deep crack began to close, the armies on the other side looking on in anticipation. "Hey, who canceled my spell?!" Sabu said indignantly, as the others rushed to their feet. Bronto, Shong, and Kilgar came rushing up over the hill to them, as they looked around for the source of the interference. Even Loma looked up. Mauklo stood, facing out towards the crack, hands raised as he controlled the forces that were now closing the crack. Lindel angrily notched an arrow and aimed it in Mauklo's direction. "Traitor!" he shouted as the arrow was sent flying. As the crack closed and Mauklo turned around, lowering his arms, Lindel's arrow coming straight towards him. At the last instant, though, the arrow seemed to lose its momentum and skittered to one side, to land harmlessly upon the ground. Mauklo smiled pleasantly as he fingered the amulet he wore around his neck. "I knew this amulet of Torai's would come in handy," he said, as he started to float up off the ground, facing towards Loma. "I've decided to join up." Loma smiled, a wicked crack crossing her wrinkled face. She pointed in his direction. Behind them all, the riders on the far side of the now-closed portion of Sabu's ravine started to spur their mounts into a gallop across. The riders already in battle began to rally, as what was left of the city's troops began to run back towards the city, reaching their legs towards the imagined safety of its, mostly wooden, walls. "You betray your friends," Loma cackled. "Do you find such betrayal so easy?" "I imagine if I really thought of them as my friends I might," Mauklo shrugged as he floated over to her rooftop, "I suggest that you kill the one with the staff first; he's the bright one." Sabu glared up at Mauklo, clasping his hand tighter around his staff. "If you're so eager to join with me," she said, "why don't you do it? This could be some sort of trick." Mauklo looked honestly shocked as he landed on the roof next to her. Below them, Sabu had his staff ready, while Lindel notched another arrow. Bronto, Shong, and Kilgar, weapons ready, were looking up at the yellow-skinned human. Beyond them the riders tore across the field, cleaving all in their path. Except, that is, for a small area around a short leathery-skinned figure firing out random bolts of blue fire from a sword; firing, jumping up and down in glee as a rider is roasted, and then firing again. "A trick?" he said with honest hurt in his voice. "Would I risk an entire city on some trick?" He gestured to the battle field beyond. Riders poured across the ravine by the hundreds, a number of them now flooding into the city, fighting the city's troops in the streets. "I guess not," Loma smiled, "nobody's that rotten." "But, if you must have proof," Mauklo said, holding out his right hand, "then why don't we kill them together?" "Don't do it Mauklo," Sindar shouted up at the two of them, "she'll just betray you in the end!" "It sounds like a delightful way to start a partnership," Loma cackled agreement, as she put her hand in Mauklo's. "Let's fry them together." "I so admire a woman of power," Mauklo said, as Loma looked down at the rest, her eyes glowing a bright red, "especially one who can so organize such an offense against the rather lackluster defense of this town." "Oh, well it helps when you have the local Mayor to assign them on the opposite side of town," she smiled, as she pointed a glowing finger at Sabu. Sabu raised his staff up defensively, Lindel aiming his bow. "How deceptive of you," Mauklo smiled evilly, "to have the Mayor on your side. But, to business." "The Mayor is a cultist of Vold," Loma commented, as she clasped tightly onto Mauklo's hand. "But now it's time for them to die. On the count of three. One." Mauklo concentrated his energies, as Loma powered up her spell. The others below clutched helplessly at their various weapons, readied spells they may not have a chance to utter. "Two." Beyond them, the riders flooded across the field and on into the edges of the city. Mauklo readied to channel his own magic through Loma. Lindel carefully aimed his bow up at them. "Three!" Mauklo let loose his concentration, channeling it through Loma's tightly clasped hand. But, it wasn't assisting magic that came through. His hand glowed red hot, heat like unto fire. Fire shot swiftly up the inside of Loma's arm, turning her entire left arm a brightly glowing cherry red. Loma screamed out in pain, but Mauklo held on tightly, smiling at her. Lindel let loose with his arrow. "What's the matter," he asked, as Loma started to double over, "don't care for my assistance?" Her entire arm exploded in a blast of fire, disintegrating her arm and part of her shoulder. At the same time, Lindel's arrow impacted solidly into her right chest. She screamed as she was thrown over the edge of the building, Mauklo left holding the burned remains of her hand in his own. "I guess not," he shrugged, as he casually tossed the hand over his shoulder. Loma's body never hit the ground. Sabu's raised staff sent out a wave of pure force, hitting the very target that he'd been aiming at all along. The witch Loma disintegrated into a fine spray of dust. "It's a good thing that we know you well," Lindel shouted up, as he lowered his bow, "but one of these times that act isn't going to work." "Maybe one of these times, I won't be acting," Mauklo grinned back down. "But you actually shot that arrow at me. I might have been hurt." "I'd noticed your little amulet several rises ago," Lindel said, as Mauklo started to float back down to the ground, "so I played along. But right now, your little act may have still cost us the city." "This was the only way," Sindar said, "she would have killed us otherwise and enslaved the entire city. But we do have a difficult battle on our hands now." "And a traitorous Mayor," Eldar added, "what about him?" "Consider him . . . taken care of," Mauklo said as he landed on the ground, "there are those that will know what to do about him." "Good," Bronto said, swinging out his sword, "then we can do something about saving this city." "What about Wacko out there?" Quickfoot pointed out towards Schanter, still gleefully chasing riders with his new found toy, leaving bits and pieces of limbs behind him. "Put him on the end of a stick and set him loose against the rest of the riders," Sabu shrugged. "I think he can handle himself." "Come," Shong said, starting down the street with his sword, "the battle's gone past us." They raced down the streets, not knowing how or if they were going to save the town, but only knowing that they had to try. ...

MALDENE - Volume Two
But for the fact that it would have become too big to hold, this could have been made into a single volume as the story runs straight through!

The characters are well defined; Sabu is the academical one, a nerd, full of scientific and logical explanations even at a time of crisis ; he has to be stopped every now and then; Quickfoot is a small guy, a nimble thief but lovable; he has his uses. Candol with the amazing, divine gift of healing, even overcoming death at times due to his faith in his God Indra. Eldar, Lindel, Shong , Sindar , the lovely and brave lady, Dwingale,
Bronto.

All brave soldiers and warriors. You have twin personalities, one super - imposing on the other, with a crazy joy in experiencing more and more pain!

Three of them join their minds into a unique, strong spiritual bond to feel, see and overcome terrific dangers and save the others! There is nothing physical here!

Visualise huge, endless spaces of snow to be crossed on foot; avoiding killer/flying dragons, trees that come up alive to devour the people! Lovely palaces with gold and diamond ornaments, Hevon gems with various magical powers; a magic bag into which all their essential objects can be stored in a tiny space, light enough to carry ! Transporting portals from one place to another in a jiffy! Dragon sword, magic amulet, piles of gold and gems.

Yet huge, deserted cities, civilizations destroyed by greedy, ego- maniacs ... the army of the Undead! The mysterious young-old, blind but golden eyed, golden haired gypsy.

This is not a story. It is history!

I cannot tell you the plot, I will have to go over and over again to get it all!

Is it over with the end of the second volume?

Is the evil Miro dealt with?

NO!

"All goes according to my plan...I laid down a thousand rels ago. That brave group...one of them is under my complete control!"

WHO?

The two volumes take a lot of very intriguing reading ! You will forget your own life's problems when you join those of the a adventurers of "Maldene"!

This is Mark Tierno's first book.

God knows what he will conjure up in the next one with his unfathomable fantasies!

Maldene
I enjoyed reading both Volume 1 &2 of Maldene, they were well-written and kept my interest. I would highly recommend them to other readers.