The Magi crossed through the line of weeping trees and onto the peninsula. He stood on a higher point of the land, looking down towards the teardrop shaped land below him. The ground was formed from the same moor as the surrounding countryside. Tufts of grass, matching his high ponytail, jutted out from the soft ground, being pulled this way and that in the strong midday wind. At the center of this ground formation, a large boulder had been set deep within it, its top having been carved out to make a flat circle large enough to fit seven men laying down. The gray surface had its rim chiseled about with runes of the north’s long forgotten tongue. It was within these words that he found the two men.

  “I would have no problem taking a moment, if you are in need of one.” The man speaking held a wooden practice sword high above his head in a ready position. Abner had never seen this man before. He found him to look similar to the outlanders he had met over the past weeks, and judged him as such. Based off of the peppered beard and hair that had been cropped nearly bald, he concluded that the man would have been middle aged. However, the way in which his loose garments draped over his form caused the intense strength beneath to reveal itself. Under the thin cloth, along the man’s raised arms, a lean muscular frame took shape. More than this, the man had a clear height advantage over most men of the region, standing nearly six and a half feet, even taller than Abner’s lanky body. The Magi felt an undeniable awe at the stranger’s form. Especially when compared to his opponent.

  Across from the older man stood another figure. Shirtless, and with a pale skin that could have matched snow, this much younger man stood with his wooden sword held out in front of him, keeping his adversary from making a direct assault. About his waist he wore a linen wrap over his pants, and nothing else upon his body. The shoulder length black hair draped over his face was dripping sweat, and his breathing came heavy. His physique, when compared to the other man’s, might as well have been laughable. Though there was clear muscle definition, anyone might have mistaken King Malakai for a boy still within his teenage years. In truth, he was only two years Abner’s junior.

  “There would be no shame in stopping for today.” The older man spoke again. Still the smaller figure did not speak, and only watched his opponent with unblinking dark eyes. The outlander sighed, and gave a quick nod before tensing his body. Abner observed the man’s feet nearly imperceptibly inching their way towards Malakai, who remained motionless. The distance between the two was being closed by the second, and soon the man’s greater reach of arm would decide the bout’s outcome. The Magi watched with rapt attention. He sensed the world about the two fading away as his vision tunneled upon them.

  It all went over in the time it took him to blink. With a cry, the larger man brought his weapon down to strike the smaller’s shoulder, so as not to crack open the King’s head over a practice match. It moved like a shooting star, down to break the naked shoulder beneath it. But it never found its target. All Malakai did was move his sword a fraction of an inch to the right, though with frightening speed and force. There came a clack of wood striking wood, and the outlander’s sword went just wide of where it had meant to land, instead scraping along the side of the King’s right arm. In this moment, Malakai wasted no time. He thrust his wooden sword out, and caught his opponent in the throat. The taller man doubled over, coughing and clutching at his neck.

  Abner started at the strike, and took a step back. Malakai did not move from his position, or speak words of concern to his staggered opponent. The Magi looked about and, after seeing that no one else was about, made to start walking down the hill towards them. His hands went into the side pack, checking for anything that might aid the injured man.

  “Let him be.” The king’s voice came through calm. Abner halted, shocked that Malakai had been aware of him. He watched as the outlander slowly regained his composure, rubbing his neck and attempting deep breaths as he stood erect once more. He squared his shoulders, let out a final cough, and then smiled at the king.

  “About damn time.” He reached out his hand. Malakai, who up until now seemed the spitting image of a northern tribal soldier, abruptly lowered his wooden sword and met the man's hand with a smile. His whole body loosened and his eyes brightened as they looked upon the other man.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Their conversation lowered in volume, as the two men began speaking of the match in more technical details, exchanging thoughts like two cooks discussing a stew’s merit. Abner felt the tension in his jaw fade and his breathing return to normal. He continued his path down towards the stone platform.

  “Nice to see you making new friends, sir.” The two looked at the Magi, and Malakai let out a light chuckle.

  “I take what I can find.”

  “In this case, a playmate to abuse.” He stepped up onto the stone and the two men moved to greet him.

  “Oh, I would hardly say that.” The king embraced his pale friend and then gestured towards the outlander. “This is Aharon. He comes from the outlands.”

  “Yes, I see.” Abner took the man’s hand. The outlander’s grip felt strong and warm, compared to that of the king’s embrace. He looked at the Magi with a homely grin, which surprised Abner after having just seen him take a harsh strike to the throat as he did.

  “He is a sword master by trade.” Malakai leaned on the wooden sword like a staff, and looked at Aharon with a sense of pride. “One of the best, if his work today is anything to go on.” Abner looked him up and down, and noticed the dark smear surfacing on his neck.

  “Not to be rude,” the Magi said, “but is this the advertising that would prove such a thing?” The king and the outlander looked at each other before laughing.

  “Well,” said Malakai, “after eighteen matches, I think he should be allowed to lose the nineteenth.”

  “Eighteen?” Abner looked over at his king, and took in his shirtless form in far more detail than his previous distance would allow. All along his pale body, from his shoulders to his navel, thick black welts had formed in the shape of lengthy one inch lines. “Oh, my.” Was all the Magi could say. To which, the two men laughed again.

  “Well, don’t be so shocked.” Said Aharon. “Your king did very well for someone whose sickness has affected him so.” He placed a large hand on Malakai’s shoulder. “I have faced many men in my time. Until today, I have only met three who could best me.” He looked back over at Abner. “In fact, many would have given up after only three matches.”

  “Yes, well, many would have given up after one if the blade was made of metal.” Malakai’s words came out dry. Aharon squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

  “Give it time. Your old skill will return.” The king nodded, and looked to the stone beneath them for a few moments before speaking.

  “Thank you. With your help, I hope to find this to be the truth one day.” He looked at Abner. “Aharon, will you be so kind as to give me and my advisor some time alone?”

  “Of course. I will leave you two, and see if there is any more of that sweet wine left about the fortress.” He gave a nod to Abner and handed the wooden sword off to him. “Here, in case your king feels the urge once more.” He started back up the hill with an eager smile and vanished through the willows. Abner watched him leave, then turned back to Malakai, a concerned look on his face.

  “You mean, he actually likes that awful wine my sister makes?” His eyebrows went up at the sight of his king moving about the platform, practicing his sword techniques, unmoved by the numerous bruises swelling upon his body. He looked down at the wooden sword hanging awkwardly in his own hands and then back up to the northerner. A sadness began to fill his heart at the earnestness of Malakai’s efforts. “You told him it was a simple sickness, then?”

  “I expected you back within two weeks. Not a few days.” He spoke without looking at his advisor. “Did you find her so quickly?” Abner looked away and to the fog. The Magi squatted down to relieve his weary legs after walking about the entire fortress wall.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “No, I’m afraid not. I was only able to make it as far as Mountcrane.”

  “I see. So then, some news during the meeting brought you back here.” He finished his movements, and turned back to Abner. “Then Barak has decided to move. Does he lead his forces against Greyrock or beyond the Mountain Pass?” Abner began scraping the wooden sword along the stone, making imaginary drawings.

  “It would seem he is leading all of his new forces towards the Mountain Pass. They should have already arrived there by now.” Malakai nodded and looked off to the fog.

  “I see. When does he expect our forces to join him in countering this, what did they call him? The pale man?” Abner paused his scraping and looked down to his feet as he responded.

  “Yes, well, Barak feels that our help with this matter is not exactly needed at the moment.” He did not look up. Malakai continued watching the clouds.

  “I see.” He said. “Then he expects us to focus our forces on Greyrock.” he turned about. “Is that why he sent you back here so soon?” Abner finally looked up at the king once more.

  “What would that matter?” His words were louder than intended. “Does Barak of Mountcrane command the true king of Northguard?” Malakai rolled his eyes and went back to swinging his wooden sword about. Crows from the moor began making their way across the water and landing within the nearby grass around the stone.

  “Does Abner deny me my answer?” The words, while calm, hinted at a mild frustration. Abner let out a heavy sigh.

  “He seems to not want our help. It would be implied that he views us as a hindrance.”

  “Well then,” Malakai did not stop his practice. “We have little to fear. If Barak thinks he can handle this pale man with his own forces, then who are we to deny this?” Abner stood, and faced Malakai.

  “Is that all you have to say about this?”

  “What else is there to say?” Malakai stopped swinging his sword about and walked towards the far end of the platform facing the lake. A crow landed within the stone’s center, and remained looking at him silently. “We have other enemies to focus on now. I have sent riders out to begin recruiting within the villages.”

  “I heard that Greyrock has been doing the same.” He walked over to stand beside his king. “Some near a hundred thousand have answered the call.” The two stood looking out to the fog for some time, taking in the cold day before them. Then, Abner spoke again. “My sister tells me you send riders even out to the Groves.” Malakai did not answer. “I think it would be wise to focus on the loyal population. Perhaps even to send men to the river villages along the Bluehead. We might find some who would join us. Perhaps Ironveil might-”

  “Why are you here, Abner?” The man did not look at the Magi as he waited for a response. Abner thought for a moment before responding.

  “The houses of the Warren would total somewhere around twenty thousand, even if they were to all join their forces together.” He swallowed hard and licked his dry lips. “If Greyrock attacked them now, the war would be over within a month.” He looked down the length of the wooden sword. There were many notches along the shaft. He then looked to Malakai’s weapon only to see the same.

  “They are skilled men.” Said the king, “Cut from deadly steel. I have never seen another type of soldier like that of the men from Warrenhall.” He held his head high, a proud expression on his face as he too held up his sword and looked down the length. “And, without combined forces, you might be surprised.” Abruptly, Abner swung his weapon down upon the king’s own, breaking the shaft into two. Malakai stepped back, shocked at the sudden aggression. Abner breathed heavily as he lifted his own sword’s point up to Malakai’s chest.

  “Not many years ago, you would have been fast enough to stop me from doing that.” Malakai scoffed, and swatted away the wooden sword with the palm of his hand. He bent down and picked up the half sword, then held it in a ready stance.

  “And not many years ago,” responded the king, “you would never have needed to use a weapon.” Abner nodded, then surprised Malakai by throwing his own weapon into the fog. A splash rang out, and then only the sound of crows cawing remained. Malakai looked to where the weapon went, standing frozen in place.

  “You’re right, sir.” Said the Magi. “I am no longer capable of what I once was. Those times have long past me by.” His hand rubbed against the book within his side pack. “Perhaps someday things might change. However, we cannot wait for that day.” He took a step closer, and Malakai stood straight to look at him. “If you and I ride with Warrenhall to face our enemy, we will all die. Of this, I am certain.” Malakai looked about, confused.

  “This is truly a first. Abner, my long time advisor, telling me for the first time to not find my courage and do the impossible.”

  “You misunderstand.” Malakai took a sudden step forward and raised his fists excitedly.

  “Do you not remember what we accomplished in the old days? You and I, together. Please, my friend, do not lose our way now.”

  “Malakai!” Abner, who rarely referred to his friend by his true name, surprised the king with his shout. The Magi closed his eyes to collect himself before speaking again. “There is something different this time. It is simply not as it was before.” Malakai lowered his hands and looked Abner up and down. He smiled.

  “How do you mean?” The Magi hesitated to answer, and turned to look back out to the fog once more.

  “I must confess, I have not been totally forthcoming with you. Not long ago, I was sent a letter from the south. My old friend, Thomas.”

  The Magi proceeded to explain the story of Giles, that he had learned from the letter sent to him from the southerner, and from the mouth of the assassin himself. Throughout it all, Malakai remained motionless, his expression unwavering. Even at the mention of the strange demon hunting the killer across Tovoran, he seemed unmoved. At the final end, when Abner explained how he came to know all of this, Malakai simply crossed his arms over his narrow chest.

  “Abner,” He said, softly. “Why are you here?” Abner closed his eyes again before speaking.

  “Barak and his wife asked me to travel to Warrenhall to offer my council. They wish for me to leave my post here so that I might find a way to stop the coming war.”

  “And you think they would accept this offering? The Warren are the only people who have wholly rejected your order as strongly as they reject the king of Greyrock. Perhaps even more.”

  “I don’t know. However, it might be our only chance.”

  “Why not simply offer your services to the king and queen of Greyrock instead? After all, aren’t they the ones we fear in all of this?” Abner shook his head doubtfully.

  “They are already aided by a Magi. She, well, she is not one I would trust to avert this coming storm. However,” He turned to the king and pointed a finger at him. “The Warren are our ally. And they trust the word of the king who united the north while he was little more than a boy. If you were to send your recommendation with me-”

  “You would leave me and my people at this time? With this Pale Man at our walls and Greyrock mounting their army against any who might stand with the Warren?” Malakai shook his head. “Perhaps you should find some place to sleep off this way of thinking. Coming back here with talk of demons and the like. Come see me tomorrow, and we shall talk of what our next move is to be.” The king turned and began walking back towards the fortress. Abner felt his heart racing, and desired to call out to Malakai, but his mind would not think. Then the only word that revealed itself to him sprang from his mouth.

  “Atla!” Malakai stopped, and slowly turned around.

  “What?” At this moment, the Magi’s mind returned to him.

  “An assassin was hired to frame the Warren. A tribe has been wiped out. Two of the regions are on the brink of war. A demon runs freely across Tovoran. And, through all of this, we have heard no word from King Theo. Can’t you understand that something is happening in the south that is beyond our sight?” His voice slowly grew to a shout that echoed about the waters. The crows blustered and scattered about. Malakai stood motionless, his brow in a deep furrow.

  “And you speak now of Atla?” His voice was calm. Abner nodded.

  “I do.”

  “Perhaps, you are in need of some sleep.” He turned again.

  “When the Pale man comes.” Abner called out. “If he crosses the Mountain Pass. He will find a country of kingdoms nearly destroyed by their squabbles. And beyond that, the south will be standing as it always has been. If the two regions march on us at the same time, not even Greyrock will be able to stand.”

  “Get some sleep, Abner.”

  “There is no other way. I have to go to Warrenhall.”

  “Go to bed, Magi.” Malakai waved over his shoulder as he walked past the willows and out of sight.

  The world went silent, and all that remained with Abner were the few crows that had yet to follow his king. The Magi stood in the platform’s center, a sad isolated figure. Though the sun was at its highest, he felt the world had gotten colder than it had been in the early morning. Abner found himself rubbing the book’s outline once more as he pondered to himself. After a few minutes, he spoke to himself.

  “Even Sir Marron had to make hard choices.” He nodded to himself. “After all, no king gave him his mission to slay the beast.” His eyes lit up, and he took in a cold breath. “Imagine what that is like.” Suddenly, he lifted his head up and squared his shoulders. “Very well. There is no other way.” He started walking up the hill. Then he thought to himself once more. The face of Giles came to his mind, and he looked up to the highest tower of the Fortress. Within its tall window, the figure of his sister stood, looking out to the world beyond the lake. “Let’s hope he arrives soon.” He continued walking. “After all, Abner does not like to leave a place without planting the seeds first.”