Outside, Aegan looked out on the city streets.  To his mind, being as he was from the Empire, Rilan was really no more than a large town.  He shrugged, and moved towards the small park around which most of the city was built.  Across from the Blue Tyven and the small park was a big cobble-stoned area that obviously doubled as a parade field.  Lording over the parade field was a stone edifice that was obviously the local governmental building.

Aegan appraised the structure with an eye for construction, and grudgingly admitted that, like everything else in Rakore, it was built to withstand a siege.

The two dwarves with him were silent, save for the clanking of their full plate.  They ignored the sound of their armor, and watched the streets and sides.

Few people were out at that hour, especially near the tiny park with its handful of large ever-greens and one old oak tree.  Light spilled out from a few shuttered windows, illuminating the insects attracted to the light.  The smith idly wondered what the locals used for a screen against the insects.

The door to the Blue Tyven opened, spilling with it light and the sounds of Tram and his wife singing.  The figures that were shadowed by the light revealed Anna and Eriel, and the two paused only long enough to find him, before moving towards him.  Four dwarves followed less-than-discreetly behind the two females, before they were plunged once more into dark red light.

Eriel led the way, with Anna reluctantly following.  When they were only an arm's length away, Eriel said, "I'm sorry, Aegan."

The smith smiled faintly, and turned to look back across the small park and the parade field.  The red light that illuminated everything was dim, despite Maroth still rising, its leading edge well over half-way across the sky.

He said, "He vas a good man, before he gave up the paladinhood.  He vas a better man, aftervards."

Anna said nothing, but she looked at Aegan with the kind of fear he had often seen in his people, his fellow Vridarans, when they realized he might be more than what he seemed.

The elf maid glanced at her mercenary companion, and turned back to Aegan.  "What was it, then, that made him give up the paladinhood?  The loss of his hand?"

The smith gazed silently at the Blood of the Dark God swallowing up the stars.  He finally said, "My parents vere killed during the Season of Death..."  He labored to pronounce the common words clearly.  " 'The War of the Undead', as you call it here.  That was vhen I vas but an apprentice smith, and Master Mendelvich took me in.  His own son had been lost, during the fight vith the Dragon Nation."

He sighed, and watched in silent admiration as a shooting star fell into Maroth, blazing a trail of bright white light, trailed by greasy smoke.  Though the distance had to have been immeasurable, the sight was beautiful.  Within moments, the star had died, and its black trail was torn to thin smudges by the alternating bands of red and red-brown that made up Maroth -- like storms of vast power that destroyed everything in their path.

The sight was not unusual, and Aegan saw perhaps one a year.  It was usually an omen of great import -- both good and bad.

He swallowed, and changed the subject somewhat.  "Vhy do you ask, Eriel?  Mad at me, for almost dying ahead of Prophecy?"  He turned to look at her, and gauge her reaction.

The delicate elf maid said, "Yes, actually.  You've gone and spoiled all my fun.  Why, though?  Do you think the gods will protect you, because of that Prophecy?  If that's what you think, then you're wrong!"

Aegan nodded, clasping his hands behind his back.  "Aye.  I know that I could still die ahead of time.  To be honest, I miscalculated.  I vas more concerned vith protecting the roadvay to Lok Magius, and buying time for the dvarves, than vith keeping myself alive.  If I had to do it again, I vould lure more of them avay, instead of just going in like that."

Anna asked, "What, exactly, happened?"

Eriel said, "Oh, our wonderful hero here charged in, killed a few orcs, and then got hammered by a dozen orc arrows, and almost got killed by a roc or two."

Metal clanked on metal, and one of the dwarves was suddenly before Eriel.  Short as the dwarves were, he still only reached her breasts, but his thick and powerful build and fiery red blond beard that was red in the light of Maroth could not be ignored.

The dwarf said in a thickly accented tongue, "Tha Gahle liSear 'as olready been made an hon'rary dwarf, elf."  He spit upon the ground, as though the word 'elf' was a curse word.  "Dinnae 'sult him so."  He turned to Anna and said, " 'E kill't six orcs.  Froze one solit, an shatter't 'im.  E's bless't by Morad'din an by Arg'Gunass.  'E took off the heads o orcs wit a hammer, an e's a smit.  E' bought time for a 'toon o dwarfs tae bring down three full roks, an we norm'la get but one, an two escapes.  E' 'as courage, lass.  E' 'as a dwarf's heart."

The guard, whom had been completely silent until that moment, had stunned Eriel.  The dwarf turned to Aegan, and nodded at him, and without another word, tromped back away several yards to give them space to talk.

Anna struggled through the language, and said, "He said..."  The mercenary glanced at the dwarf, and then at Aegan.  "He said you were blessed by both Galgiran and Argunas...  The Demon God?"

Where Anna's look had been wary before of Aegan's magic, it was positively charged with wariness and even a bit of fright after the dwarf's short speech.

Eriel looked at Aegan oddly.  "That's why the dwarves couldn't heal you with Galgiran's blessing, because of Argunas' blessing on you.  Your sorcery...  Your demon blood, healed you; the ice within you was too strong for Galgiran's heat."  She turned to the dwarves.  "But how is he blessed by Galgiran?  Just because he's a smith, and Galgiran's the Forge God of the Dwarves, doesn't make him blessed."  She looked uncertain.  "Does it?"

The dwarves shared glances with one another, and the one that had spoken, apparently their leader, said, "Ye've all been bless't by Morad'din, elf.  E'en yew."  He cleared his throat, and said, "Shale dark aln, Morad'din."

Aegan understood immediately, even as Eriel struggled through it.  He whispered, "Our amulets.  The fire vithin them is lit by Galgiran himself."

Eriel's eyes went wide in the red light from above, and one hand went to the amulet about her neck.  Her hand explored it in renewed wonderment, and she held it up to look at in the red light.

Anna merely checked to make sure hers was there, and then turned to Aegan.  "So all he means," and she glanced at the dwarven guard leader, "Is that because you have the blood of demons in you, you're blessed by the Demon God?  Right?  It's not like you're Argunas' right-hand man?"

Aegan shook his head, and the motion grabbed Eriel's attention before she could answer.  Something about his demeanor frightened the elf.

The apprentice reached deep within himself, and confronted that other version of himself.  For perhaps the first time, he calmly concentrated on the power within himself and willed it to the surface without need or desperation.  He closed his eyes, concentrating, sucking the heat all around him into himself, channeling it, and using the image already in his mind as a template for the demonic powers within his blood.

Heat energy became magical energy.  The energy used the template within his blood and bones, flesh and soul, and then sucked down even more energy to feed the bindings.  A cycle of absorbing energy, and using it to absorb yet more energy began.

He took a deep breath, swelling his lungs, and then slowly let it out.  His breath fogged in the summer air, lit red by the light from above.  Ice crackled as it formed on his fists, and then from the middle of his chest, all over his chest, running in sheets that grew thicker and thicker with every breath, crackling and rearranging into plates of ice over the mithral chain he wore.  The ice on his fists became short blades of ice, and it also began to form at every joint -- even his jaw -- forming spiked ice that would make every bit of motion hell for anyone trying to wrestle with him.

When he opened his eyes, they were glowing blue-green orbs that lit up their faces, and sent a shiver of dread through them.

Air flowed down off of Aegan, so cold that it was freezing on his skin, and then turning into fog as it flowed down his body.  Ice crackled and popped as he flexed his knees, and then brought up one hand to look at in the red light from above, and the blue-green light from his eyes.  His hand slowly closed into a fist, and then opened.  Tiny spines of ice were on the insides of his hands, so that whomever he would grip would find tines of ice in their skin, giving the smith awesome purchase.

Aegan said with a voice that was deep, resonant, and chilling, "The blessing of Argunas means only that he has seen something that terrifies even the Demon God.  The blood that runs through my veins is not his to control."  He took in another deep breath, ice ridges forming over his eyes to protect them and hood them.

"Argunas is my enemy, but he is also my willing ally.  I do not seek to destroy a god.  I have not that kind of power.  I do have the power to get you two, and one other, into the Halls of the Pixie Queen.  I will shatter the shell guardians.  That is my purpose."

Anna took an involuntary step back, as Aegan's blue-green glowing gaze swept over her.  Her skin was prickled with goose bumps, and her hair was standing on end.  Something within her screamed at her, and it was all she could do to hold her ground.

One of the dwarves shouted, "Ambush!"

A bolt of lightning flashed from the corner of a building, and it illuminated dozens of armed men on horses bearing down on the park.  The riders fought to control their mounts as the lightning arced across the roadway and through Aegan.

The smith screamed as his back arched, and his arms swept up in agony, electricity arcing over him and around him like a living thing.

Eriel screamed in shock.

Anna Helldove knew nothing of magic, but she knew plenty about combat.  Her bow was off from over her shoulder and strung before Eriel's scream died in her throat.  The mercenary thought the elf maid a twit, and drew two arrows at once from one of her quivers.  The dwarves had formed a defensive line, even as the rest of the dwarves began to boil out of the Blue Tyven's front door.

Two riders fell from their saddles as she let go, and then drew two more arrows.

Eriel forced herself to concentrate, willing herself to believe that Aegan would survive no matter what, and tore her eyes from him just in time.  A flash of light from the corner of a building briefly illuminated the spell-caster, and then a tiny sphere of light zoomed towards them, trailing liquid fire behind it.

The elf maiden's hands quickly moved through the somatic components of a spell, and with a flick of material from one sleeve and several short, clipped and rising words of power, she released a bolt of purple and blue magic right back towards the ambushing spell-caster.

The liquid fire and the blue-and-purple bolt smacked into each other with a shockwave of power and light, briefly illuminating the riders before they struck.

Men with mail shirts and swords guided their mounts to run over the dwarves, saving their sword swings for the three members of Prophecy.  Two horses went down in screams as the dwarves cut them down.  One horse leapt over the dwarves, and one dwarf was bowled over in his plate -- and in so doing, broke the legs of the horse that went over him.

The rider astride the horse that leapt was knocked out of his saddle by one of Anna's arrows, though she had to dive as the horse bore down on her.  When she came to her feet in a half-crouch from the roll,  a flurry of blue and purple bolts of light ripped two more riders from their horses, and one of the riders was torn in half by the destructive energy.

Anna glanced to Aegan as she drew two more arrows, and saw Aegan place both hands out before him as though to physically stop the charge of a one tonne war horse.

The horse shattered as it touched Aegan, and the rider fell, startled, onto the frost mage.  The startled rider couldn't even let out the start of a scream as his torso froze and shattered on the immoveable bulk of the frost mage.

Aegan's glowing blue-green eyes had a tint to them, as though from the heart of sun-lit glacial ice, and the growl he turned on the remaining riders was a primal howl of the elements.

A second horse rode by the frost mage, and the sword of the rider hit Aegan where his bull neck met his shoulders -- the apprentice sorcerer went down, even as the broken end of the sword hurtled through the air with a whistling sound to plunk into the ground near Anna.

Eriel let loose another spell of blue and purple bolts, aiming it at the dim figure of the spell caster just around the corner.  The ambushing mage, in turn, let loose a counter-spell of their own, and the two spells met in mid-air in an explosion of power.

Anna tossed her composite bow aside, and drew the huge knives at her sides as one of the riders dove off his horse at her.  The impact cracked one of her ribs even as she rolled with the attack, and angled one of her blades up under the man's belt.  His sword never managed to strike her, as she parried it with the other knife, and then gutted her opponent.

A dwarf hauled the rider's body off of her, and stood back to back with her as the remaining riders rode around for another charge.

The remaining dwarves were forming up in an impenetrable shield wall, and Eriel turned to see the horseless rider that had taken Aegan down preparing to deliver a coup-de-gras over Aegan's body.  Before the mercenary could throw her blade, a crossbow bolt from one of the dwarves caught the rider through the temple, and he went down in a heap over the slowly-moving Aegan.

A tense moment passed, and was gone.

Aegan, in a crackle of retorts and breaking ice, stood back up, liquid air once again streaming off of him.  His blue-green glowing eyes were livid as he pointed at the riders, and beckoned them to come to him with his fore finger.

There was a scream from the corner of the building, and the Lord Reeve of Rilan carried forward the spell caster in one hand.  The ambushing spell caster's feet were well off the ground, and Sir Bridar's dark leathers and tattoos made him seem a seven foot tall shadow of red-tinged death as he crossed in front of the light spilling out of the Blue Tyven.

The spell caster was plainly a woman, and at that sight, the remaining riders turned their horses and began to flee.

One dwarf casually raised his axe to kill a wounded rider, and Sir Bridar called out, "No!"

Before the desert elf could elaborate, the dwarf's head turned in the direction the riders had begun to flee.

A commotion there forced some of the riders to flee back towards the dwarves, or around them.

Most of the few remaining riders fled back onto the cobble-stoned parade field, but they were quickly being surrounded.

People poured out of buildings, armed and armored, increasing the number of those surrounding the riders.

Anna glanced about, and close to a hundred people were out in the streets, armed with swords, axes, bows, crossbows, spears, and even nets.  Behind them, the roof of the Blue Tyven had close to a dozen of the dark elves crouching on it.  A dozen guards boiled out of the governmental building on the other side of the parade field and formed up.

The mercenary swallowed, never quite realizing how militaristic Rilan truly was.

A hippotaun, with five dwarves sitting in the saddle along its spine, slowly advanced on the half-dozen remaining riders.  Another hippotaun came out of a side street, where it must have been moving to get ahead of the riders, before seeing them already caught.

The riders threw down their weapons, surrendering.

Aegan fell in a heap.

Sir Bridar called out, "Don't kill anyone!  We need them for questioning!"

Anna cried out, "Healer!  I need a healer!  A priest!"

Despite her reservations about mages, and Aegan's powers, the mercenary was at his side in a few short strides.  Her gauntlet hands barely shielded her from the cold still seeping out of Aegan's body.  She could find no pulse, which wasn't unusual in her leather gauntlets -- but she also saw no breath spilling foggy and red from Aegan.

Eriel began to chant, invoking a quick spell.  A moment later, a ball of blue and purple light blazed above them, providing plenty of illumination.

What they had taken to be liquid air streaming off of Aegan had been blood from one of the rider's strikes.  His neck and shoulder were awash with blood, and the sight sickened Eriel such that she immediately began to dry heave, and then throw up her inturiel kevask.

The light wavered with each heave, but Anna was grateful for the light, none-the-less.  She wished she had her pack with her, instead of wherever the dwarves had taken it; instead of good cloth or bindings for wounds, she was forced to use the cape of the man that had done such damage to Aegan.

As she pulled the cape from the rider's body, she realized that he was wearing half-plate over chain mail, and that it was painted with the sigils of the Merchant God.  As she unhooked the cape, she froze, seeing on the rider bracers of highly polished silver, and a strange pattern of ellipses laquered on in black.  The rider had been a paladin to the Merchant God.

Anna moved quickly, folding the cape as best she could, again and again, back and forth, and then placed it gently over Aegan's wound.  She was afraid to apply pleasure, for fear of causing further damage, but she knew that without pressure, the arteries had no hope of being slowed long enough for a healer to arrive.  Aegan's wound was mortal.

A set of hands on Anna's shoulders nearly caused her to attack, and then she saw that a crowd of people in robes -- elves, humans, and even a dwarf -- had gathered.  Several amulets, bracelets, and other oddments found themselves in the hands of the crowd, and faint murmurs in half-a-dozen different tongues joined into a tumultuous gathering of godly might.

Eriel screamed, "No!  No!  Stop!"  Above them, her ball of blue and purple light flared angrily.  "Your prayers will kill him!"

She tried to push one aside, even as another priest, an elf, moved to grab her arms.

The elven priest turned to several of the dwarven infantry, and said, "She's frantic from the battle!  Hold her!"

The dwarven infantry, however, pried her out of his hands.  The escort from Lok Giran began slowly but defiantly pulling the priests away from Aegan.

Anna screamed, "No!  He's dying!  They have to heal him!"

Eriel frantically searched her memory, hoping beyond hope that she had memorized at least one spell having to deal with the cold.

A beautiful male voice asked, "Why would prayers kill him?"  It was the bard from the Blue Tyven.  His guittern was nowhere to be seen, replaced with a rapier with red blood covering its narrow blade.

The elf maiden said, "Ice!  I need spells of ice!  Something cold!"  She flexed her hands desperately, trying to figure out how she could help Aegan.  His wounds had been bad, before, but he had held on long enough to get them to Loren Razorbraid, who had understood.  She cast about desperately, looking for Sir Bridar, but didn't see the giant elf in the sea of concerned faces.

The minstrel, whose name she finally remembered was Tram, called out in a musical language that was not elven, but close to it, to the dark elves.  Several of them raced inside the Blue Tyven.

Tram said, concern and reassurance in his melodic voice, "We bring down ice from the top of the mountain, to keep the beer cold.  Will that help?"

The dwarven infantry still had a firm grip on the priests, even as a few tried to get to the wounded human yet -- blood having long since soaked through the teal-colored cloak.

Someone gasped, "That's Sir Camden!" and pointed at the fallen paladin nearby.

The slight elf in priest's robes shouted, "No!  Joseph!"  She rushed to the dead paladin, and examined him, hoping to find a pulse or a faint trace of breath.  When she found nothing, knowing that she wouldn't with a crossbow bolt through the temple, she wailed, "Why?!"

"SILENCE!" roared a voice with such command authority that even the dwarven infantry quit clinking in their armor for a moment.

A human of moderate height and lean build, with skin permanently reddened by the sun, and a strong, straight nose strode into the light, escorted by several other humans in expensive half-plate and mail.  The human wore a chain shirt under a tabard of rust-red, with a sigil on the left breast of a clenched, gauntleted fist with a gold ring on each finger -- the symbol for the Baron-and-the-Bishop.

The human looked over everything, and glanced up at the blue and purple sphere of light overhead.  He asked of Aegan, "Why is no one healing this man?"  His tone of voice held an accent to it that few could place, and his dark eyes were fierce in the light.

Tram spoke up quickly, "Baron Complan, he is a mage immune to normal prayers for healing.  Only ice can help him."

As if on cue, several of the lithe and lean dark elves elbowed through the crowd with huge blocks of ice.  They hesitated before the baron until the man flicked his hand to indicate they should continue.

The black elves quickly arrayed the blocks of ice at Tram's direction, near the wound and under his arm pits, and between his legs.  The last block he shattered with his rapier, and arranged quickly around Aegan's head.

Eriel helped him arrange the shards quickly, and then they both stepped back, waiting.

Baron Complan, apparently a man of little patience in combat, asked Tram, "What's going on?  I have a dead paladin, a mage that cannot be healed, and dozens of dead bodies all over my door steps!"

Sir Bridar's voice was death as he said, "I believe she can answer your questions, my lord."

He spoke from beyond the light of the bright ball above, and so seemed lost in the darkness.  He strode forward, and in one hand he still had the mage suspended above the earth; his grip was tight, for she gasped for air with every breath.  His other hand held her hands behind her back, and her back was bowed as though she were trying to escape the pain he brought to her.

Anna would forever remember the strange color of the giant elf's orange eyes in the blue and purple light.  She regretted ever having tried to pass herself off as one of his rangers, for the image was one that would haunt her nightmares for years to come.