The Great Quest for the Darkstone

Thelwyn Korman leant orward in the saddle of his steed and looked to the north. Amidst the early morning haze there was little to see save the high mountain peaks, wreathed in a fine mist, and the base of the Kettin foothills shimmering in the far distance. The crisp morning air filled his lungs as he breathed deep, letting the scent of the city wash over him. To any other, the smell would be nothing pleasant, indeed Aina in the summer was believed by some to rival the smell of an unwashed goblin, but to Thelwyn, it reeked of home. A home he was about to leave for what he knew would be a long time.

Thelwyn twisted in his seat and looked back at the city behind him. It was nestled at the foot of a rise, snug between two high hills. Beyond it, Thelwyn could see the shine of the sea, the sun glinting off the mast of one of the tall ships. Already there would be people working on the docks, sailors hurrying to obey the call of the captains, galley slaves toiling under the feel of the whip. The docks were never still. Even at the earliest hour when decent folk were deep in sleep, the docks were alive with activity.

Sighing, Thelwyn twisted again and let his eyes fall on his army spread out behind and to his right. His army! Thelwyn could almost have laughed out loud if his heart hadn't felt so heavy. There were barely thirty men under his command, and each man newly trained. Apart from himself there was only his Second, Jarwin Redgar, who had seen any action. Jarwin, he knew, was a seasoned campaigner and could be relied upon to cover his back if they met any trouble. The others were untested and barely out of the Academy. Indeed, this was to be the first campaign for many of them, and what a campaign to start with!

Thelwyn motioned to Jarwin and turned once more to face north, letting his gaze fall upon the road his company would take. It led away from the city and up into the mountains. He planned on following it for some distance before turning off and taking a trail he knew deeper into the Pardor range. He had no intention of leading the men into Verin, a dangerous place even for a trained warrior. No, he would take them into the mountains, along the old game trails. The way was likely to be a lot harder, and would take several more days but it would be worth it. Yet even this way was not without it's dangers. The mountains were rife with wolves, and though not known to attack large bodies of men, it was not unheard of.

Jarwin swung his horse around beside Thelwyn and let his gaze travel along the road into the mountains. "It's going to be a hard journey my friend. Even before we begin there are problems. I heard rumours before we left the city that the ogres have left Verin, driven out by the recent droughts. And the wolves are going to be more trouble than usual. Hunger does strange things to a beast."

Thelwyn grunted in reply. "I know all that Jarwin and I said as much to the Lord when he suggested this fool quest in the first place. He took as much notice of me as he does everyone else, which is to say none. I don't like this anymore than you do, but when the Lord has his mind set on something not you, I or even the Gods can change it, and more fool he who tries. No, our task is set and we must make the best of it, and I'll hear no more complaints. Now go and ready the men, it's time we were on our way. I want to be into the mountains by afternoon."

Jarwin nodded and without a word, turned his horse back in the direction of the company, his gruff voice barking out orders. Thelwyn smiled humourlessly. He had a bad feeling about this journey, and when he felt that way, he was usually right.

The trail made harder going than Thelwyn had anticipated, and it was twilight before the company entered the mountains proper. Thelwyn called a halt and the weary troop dismounted and set about making camp beside the trail. Thelwyn watched them from his saddle for several minutes, ensuring all was in order, then rode ahead up the path, calling out that Jarwin was in charge until he returned. He gleaned some satisfaction from the uneasy glances a few of the men threw him, but he knew his own business and he was not about to reveal it to some fresh-from-the-guildhall recruits.

It was almost dark when Thelwyn reached his destination but he risked neither a lamp nor a torch, knowing only too well the dangers. He dismounted and made his way quickly from the path. He had been here before and he knew the route well. Climbing nimbly over the rugged terrain, he made his way up a steep incline and at last came out at the top of a high ridge of rock. From here he had a good view of the land, even in the murky half-light of late evening, and he used it well. In the far distance he could make out the lights of Aina, twinkling against the dark backdrop of the sea. Nearer, to his far left, he could just make out the outline of the Kettin foothills. Neither of these interested him and he turned his gaze in the direction of the mountains.

There was not much to be seen. The tall mountains were nothing but varying shades of gray against the steadily darkening sky. He kept his eyes fixed on the highest point of the trail in view and was soon rewarded with a slight glow. It was a campfire, hidden, but still barely visible among the rocky crags. It was impossible to see who had made the fire or even how many were there but he knew instinctively that it would mean trouble. It was not trolls, that he was sure about. Trolls were too dull and stupid to think about making a fire, and they would certainly never think to hide it. It could be any of the so called "civilised races" but something told him to rule them out. His instinct said that whoever had made the fire was danger.

Thelwyn grunted. It was no use sitting and idly speculating, he needed to return to camp and move them off the track. He had not meant to leave the trail so soon, but this changed things. He still knew of one or two small paths leading through the mountains from here, but it would most likely double the journey time. He bit his lip in frustration. Not even a day from Aina and already the task ahead seemed impossible.

He scrambled back down to his horse and cursed the fates. This fool quest was doomed from the beginning. What the Lord was asking was impossible.

As he led his horse back to camp Thelwyn recalled that day two weeks ago. He had been called to the house of his Lord, one Kardin Porthane, current head of the council of Aina. The Lord had seemed in a fine mood and Thelwyn had relaxed slightly. Kardin had spoken of inconsequential things for several minutes before throwing forth his idea. It surprised Thelwyn like a blow to the face and he could still hear the words ringing in his ears: Find me the shards of the Darkstone Thelwyn, and bring them back to me.

Thelwyn chuckled to himself. Find the Darkstone indeed. Like it was something a man did everyday.

The Darkstone. The one thing which man feared and prized more than anything else. The stone of the Gods, which had cracked the world like you would crack the shell of a nut. And it was Thelwyn's job to find it.

He arrived back at camp and ignored the looks of his men. He tethered his horse and beckoned to Jarwin. The older man finished what he was doing and hurried over, his steps hastened by the look on Thelwyn's face. The two men walked a few yards from the camp and Thelwyn turned to look up at the mountains. "Well?" asked Jarwin quietly. "What did you see?"

"Fires." said Thelwyn simply. "Or at least one fire. But I think there are more. Call it what you will but I sense danger ahead if we do not leave the road. When we go back I want you to break camp and head into the trees. We need to put some distance between us and whoever is up in the mountains."

Jarwin was silent for long moments his gaze fixed on the road. "Thelwyn, I have been a soldier for many years now as my father was before me. I have rode on many campaigns, fought in many battles. And yet, I have never done anything as foolish as this. To seek the Darkstone is madness!"

Thelwyn cursed and rounded on the old warrior. "Don't you think I know that? Nothing but this quest has entered my mind since it was given to me! And do I think of the glory? Do I think how best we could achieve our goal? No! I think how foolish it is! Because it is an impossible quest we are on, and because we know that, we are more foolish still for being here. But we have no choice Jarwin. Return to Aina and we forfeit our lives, you know the Lord as well as I. Continue on and we at least have a chance to survive. Oh I agree, we will never find the Darkstone. But at least we will have tried. And who knows? The Lord may have forgotten why we left in the first place. No, we can curse the fates all we like, but we must go on."

Jarwin sighed. "You are right old friend, I just feel I am getting too old for this. Years ago, I would not have given such a quest a second thought. Now I can think of little else save a warm fire and a mug of ale. Who knows maybe I am too old!"

Thelwyn smiled despite his mood. "Nonsense, you are in better shape than I am! Come on you old campaigner, we have young soldiers to take care of and a quest to complete. Let's get on with it before I change my mind and decide to face the Lord afterall!"

For the next three days, Thelwyn led his small command further into the mountains. The landscape became more hostile the further they travelled and Thelwyn felt the weight on his heart increase.

By the middle of the fourth day they had reached the pass through the mountains. It was little more than than a narrow tunnel through the rock, but it led to the western side of range and that was good enough for Thelwyn. He organised the men into single file and led the way into the narrow gorge. Jarwin took up the rear, his keen eyes keeping careful watch on the tops of the rock walls.

It was three hours later when the company finally emerged into sunlight again. Thelwyn led the way downwards, eventually calling a halt within a small glade where a stream gurgled down the mountain. Thelwyn led his horse to the stream and tethered it beside the water then looked back at the path they had followed. It was steep and Thelwyn was proud of the men for navigating it with relatively little difficulty. He let his gaze travel up the slope then hissed and drew in his breath sharply. For a moment there had been a glint, as of the sun shining on metal.

Thelwyn signalled swiftly to Jarwin and hurried to the edge of the trees. The older campaigner followed quickly, ducking behind a dense crop of bushes. "What is it Thelwyn? Ogres?"

"I don't know yet," replied Thelwyn, peering intently up the rough track. He could see nothing at the moment, and the gathering darkness was doing little to help. Then he saw it again, the sun glinting for a second off a piece of polished armour. Jarwin saw it too and cursed. "Shall I ready the men to ride again?"

Thelwyn was silent, gritting his teeth. He watched the trail for several minutes more before answering. "No, I'm sick of running. These people, whoever they are, have been following us since that first day when we left Aina. It's time to find out who they are, and if that means a fight then I am ready."

Jarwin turned to Thelwyn, a worried frown creasing his features. "But Thelwyn, are the men ready? We do not know the size of the force following us, their race, or even their skill! These men we command are untested in the field, we could be slaughtered."

Thelwyn cursed and it was plain from his face that he was holding back a fierce anger. "Wait here." Thelwyn scrambled forward through the bushes and began to make his way swiftly, but silently up the side of the track. Jarwin watched him, a worried frown on his face.

Thelwyn moved as fast as he could without making any sounds, using the undergrowth at the side of the track as cover. Within minutes he judged that he was close to where he had seen the glint of armour. He slowed and moved forward very carefully, close to the ground. He could now hear the occassional clank of metal or the low whisper of a voice. Thelwyn reached a bush at the very edge of the track and carefully peeled aside the thick covering of leaves. He moved to look through and barely managed to conceal an anguished cry. A cry of fear.

Jarwin watched Thelwyn scramble back down the mountain like a terrified mountain goat. One look at his face was enough for Jarwin. He signalled to the men to saddle up swiftly then turned back just as Thelwyn reached the edge of the camp.

"We move out now!" hissed Thelwyn, hurrying to his own horse and readying it swiftly.

"Thelwyn! What is it?" Asked Jarwin, worriedly. "I've never seen you this way before, and I have rode with you in countless battles!"

Thelwyn spun around, the fear hidden once more under the calm mask. "You say you have never seen me afraid before? You're right, I never have been. You and I have fought together many times. When the ogres would march from Verin, you and I would be there to battle against them. When goblin raiders entered our lands we never stopped until every cursed one of them were dead or gone. And we never once felt fear. Loathing, hatred maybe, but never fear. Yet we never faced foes like these before Jarwin! And we should be afraid!"

"Shadow Stalkers Jarwin. A force of twenty or more Shadow Stalkers, and in their vanguard, a vampire. One of Seluctruh's foul minions, here, close to our home!"

The colour drained from Jarwin's face and his eyes bulged. "Stalkers? How is that possible? Not here! They can't be. The Eyan's are becomming slack! And the Elves? what of they? How could they let a band of stalkers pass their lands unhindered?"

Thelwyn snarled. "The elves are too bottled up in Erin to notice if all the Stalkers in the world marched passed their doors. And in any case, that is not the only route. They could have travelled north and east, past Keldabar and the Glandar lands."

Jarwin nodded. "They could, but you know how the minotaur feel about Stalkers. And they like vampires even less!"

Thelwyn lifted himself up into his horse and swung his gaze over his command. They were all mounted and nervously awaiting his command. "What does it matter how they got here Jarwin? They are here, and on our trail. We have to flee now! As fast and as far as we can. To fight would be like throwing these men to the lions. We have only one chance now and that is to ride like we have never rode before. Are you up to it old friend?"

Jarwin smiled, and mounted his horse, a dark black stallion named Midnight. "I'm up to it Thelwyn. Let us see what these young men are made of!" He spun his horse to the west and spurred it forward, speeding from the clearing like an arrow from an elven bow. Thelwyn smiled grimly and waved the men forward. "Ride! All of you! Ride like The Dark God himself is after you!"

And they rode, sweeping down the mountain as one. Thelwyn followed them, cursing the fates, the Gods, and himself.

They rode for three solid hours, as fast as the mountain trails would allow them. And each time Thelwyn looked back, the glint of armour was there, as if taunting them. Jarwin finally called a halt, about midway down the mountain. The group was weary, and many of the men looked ready to fall from the saddles. Thelwyn dismounted but left his horse saddled. "You have ten minutes, make the best use of it you can," he called, ignoring the hateful looks he received. If these men survived, they would ride under harder commanders than he. It was time they learned the life of a real soldier.

Jarwin met him, worry and fear evident in every line of his face. Thelwyn nodded sadly. "We have no hope old man. The devil spawn are with us every inch of the way. It is only a matter of time before they sweep down and crush us." He slammed a fist into his gloved hand. To think that it would end this way. Killed in command of a group of fresh faced recruits, against a foe so powerful every race in the world feared them, on a fool quest that no sane man would ever attempt. He thought back bitterly over the past campaigns, the glory, the honour. No! He would not let it end. If he had to fight back the Stalkers himself, then so be it.

Jarwin's eyes widened. "North? But what is there north? There is no safety that way."

"Maybe not," replied Thelwyn. "But it is the last thing the Stalkers will expect. Is it not said that they have little love for tracking? Maybe they do not even know which way we head but guess our route as the most obvious. It is worth a try at the least. If we go on as we are, then we die."

The men climbed tiredly into their mounts once more and Thelwyn led them north, covering their tracks for the first few miles. They moved swiftly, keeping under the cover of a line of trees and tall bushes. Thelwyn kept his gaze on the trail behind them, watching carefully. So far there was no sign of pursuit, but that did not mean there would be none. He pushed the group harder, a strong fear spurring him onwards.

An hour into the ride and Thelwyn began to let himself hope. There had been no signs of the Stalkers, and there was now a good deal of distance between his command and where they had broken camp. If he could keep them safe for a few more hours, they could break west and head towards Gorud. The tribesmen there would be little help, but north of that was Windy Bluff, and the Stalkers would never dare ride on a town that size.

The night had come upon them swiftly an hour back and Thelwyn began to grow concerned about the terrain. He was unfamiliar with this area of the Pardor mountains, and it was possible that they might suddely ride of the edge of a canyon in the dark. At last, regretfully he called camp and the group dismounted with relief. He smiled humourlessly and dismounted from his own steed. He planned on camping only until the first tint of daylight appeared then they would be on the move again.

He saw Jarwin approach him in the dark and nodded as he tethered his horse to a tree.

"It seems you were right Thelwyn," said the old campaigner, relief evident in his voice.

"Maybe," said Thelwyn, turning to look at his old friend. "The Stalkers may yet find our tracks and if they do, I want to be as far from them as possible."

Jarwin nodded. "I assume you plan on trying to reach Gorud within a day or two? I think we can make it." Thelwyn could imagine Jarwin rubbing his beard in the dark and grinned. Jarwin was like a sturdy rock. He never broke.

"I believe so too old..." Thelwyn's words were cut of as a screeching horn pierced the night. He cursed and spun back to his horse, untying the reigns and pulling himself up onto the saddle. Another horn rang out, somewhere to the south and the west, still some distance away but nearer than the first. "Jarwin, we must ride!"

But the old man was already on his horse, yelling commands to the dazed men who were milling about in confusion. Thelwyn cursed again and rode to the edge of camp. through the trees he could see dim flames moving steadily closer. Torches, and their carriers most likely the Stalkers. At last, the men had mounted and Jarwin was spurring them on north once more. Thelwyn followed in the rear, gritting his teeth as more horn calls rang out behind and to their left. He twisted his neck and saw the torch lights were only a short distance away. Before long the Stalkers would be on them.

He pushed his horse to greater efforts and rode to the front of the group, where jarwin had his head down, moving like the wind. "Jarwin!" Thelwyn shouted. "I'm going to ride on ahead, to make sure the terrain is safe. Keep them moving, we have little hope, but what we do have, I plan to take!"

Jarwin nodded but didn't answer, keeping his attention on riding. Thelwyn moved ahead, his mare barely seeming tired. Within minutes he had left the group behind and was riding up a steep incline. The land seemed safe, if a little tricky to navigate but he wanted to be sure. He rode a little further, watching for sudden drops or blocked routes.

He had turned back at last and was riding back towards his command, when he heard the first scream of pain. Fear coursed through him and he urged his horse faster, coming upon his command like something from a nightmare.

What he rode into was utter carnage. The Stalker forces were upon his men, hacking and slashing like frenzied beasts. Thelwyn judged in a moment that at least half his men were dead, or so far gone they were not worth thinking about. Those that were left alive were fighting for their very lives. Thelwyn thundered into the midst of the Stalkers, drawing his sword and swinging it down in a deadly arc. A Shadow Stalker head rolled to the floor, it's features twisted into a snarl of utter hatred.

The Stalkers turned on the new threat and gutteral curses split the night air. Thelwyn felt the blood of battle burn in his ears and he welcomed it at last. This was something he knew, fighting the Dark Gods servants for his land.

He swung his sword in sweep after sweep, feeling it cut into flesh and watching the Stalkers drop around him. Cold steel cut into his arm but he barely noticed. He turned his horse and felled the Stalker with a thrust of his blade.

He saw Jarwin fall from the corner of his eye and felt momentary grief pierce his heart. But the true grief could wait. For now, battle was all that mattered. He parried a weak blow and brought his sword around in a powerful upper thrust, slashing the creature from waist to neck. The Stalker tumbled to the ground, dark, thick blood spilling to the earth. Another of the creatures charged in from the left and Thelwyn blocked it's blow, kicking out strongly.

He trotted his horse in a half circle, breathing heavily and glad of the momentary respite. His eyes glittered as he watched the Stalkers moving slowly forward. It was impossible to count their numbers in the darkness but he knew he could not fight them all. His men were all dead. Their bodies heaped about the ground, hacked to death by the cruel blades of the Stalkers. Thelwyn felt anger, rage and hatred surge through his body. Hatred towards these evil creatures and the God that had created them. He raised his sword high, snarling at his foes. "For Aina!" He yelled and dug his heels into his horses flank. He sped forward, his hatred carrying him on into the heart of the Stalker ranks.

For a moment, Thelwyn felt hope. He had cut down two of them before they had known he was among them and a third was writhing on the ground. But as quick as it had come, his hope faded. The Stalkers swept forward as one. Thelwyn fell heavily from his horse and felt his head strike a rock. He knew nothing more.

A harsh voice croaked out from Thelwyn's left. "Tie him and bring him with us. Our Lord will surely enjoy his company!" Laughter, then silence. Thelwyn blacked out once more.

Thelwyn had no idea how far or how long he was carried by the Stalkers. His journey was a half-waking nightmare of pain and fear. At times he would mercifully black out and the pain would ebb. But the inevitable waking would always come, and with it the voices of his captors and the pain. From the few times he was awake, Thelwyn guessed they were still somewhere in the mountains but much further north. The stars were positioned wrong, and he knew from instinct that he had never been here before.

For the most part the Stalkers ignored him, and for that he was glad. But at times, when the light was dimming, he caught sight of something terrifying to behold, something with fangs which seemed to drip blood.

It was getting dark once more as the Stalkers seemed to at last reach their destination. They slowed from the forced march they had so far maintained, and their gutteral, evil voices fell silent. Thelwyn glanced ahead from his position near the rear of the column. They were walking through dense undergrowth, bushes and trees intertwining on either side to form thick walls of green. But ahead, the walls seemed to fall away, and Thelwyn could clearly see the fallen rubble and broken columns.

Thelwyn gritted his teeth to keep from making any noise. They were about to enter some sort of ruin, a place he knew nothing about. Indeed, a place nobody seemed to know about if Stalkers had made it their home. A sudden thought struck him. Could this be Karim? The ancient home of the Darkstone? No it was not possible. Karim was destroyed utterly when the Darkstone broke, and besides, that was further north, surely.

Thelwyn kept close watch on his surroundings, trying to catch sight of something that would give him a clue as to where they were. But he noticed nothing. All around was rubble and broken bricks, none of it marked in any way.

He silently cursed, knowing that as they had reached their destination, he would soon be dead, or dying, whatever the fates had in store for him. Whatever happened, he would not let it happen easily. While he lived he would fight. All his life he had dedicated himself to the battle against evil, and it would not end here in this fallen place.

The Stalkers led him through the rubble, moving slow and sure, careful not to make any noise. The entire scene seemed somehow unreal to Thelwyn. Here were Shadow Stalkers, the very embodiment of all that was wrong and evil, walking with respect, and....reverance? That was it, they seemed awed by their surroundings, and Stalkers were awed by nothing.

Thelwyn's curiosity grew but he kept silent, knowing that anything he did now would likely cause his doom. The Stalkers seemed to be taking him to the only building which was still intact. A tall, dome shaped construction made of white stone and marble. A graceful arch marked the entrance, spidery runes decorating it's surface. Thelwyn attempted to read them, but it was a language he was unfamiliar with, if it was any language at all.

At last the Stalkers stopped infront of the great sealed doors. A tall figure strode forward from their midst and Thelwyn recognised it as the thing he had seen earlier. The leader of the Stalkers, a vampire. The creture walked up to the doors slowly and raised it's hands. It held a golden sceptre which it pointed at the building. For a moment, nothing happened, then a voice seemed to echo from all around, loud and reverberating. Thelwyn, squeezed his eyes shut at the noise.

The doors swung outwards and the Stalkers began to move again, up the white marble steps towards the entrance. Thelwyn moved with them, his bonds digging tight into his flesh. The sound of the voice still echoed eerily among the ruins and Thelwyn shivered. Nothing living could have made that voice.

The small group entered the building, their footsteps seeming very loud amidst the silence. Thelwyn let his eyes wander over the interior of the building, his keen gaze taking in what it could. The room was laid out like a church. A narrow aisle ran the length of the building between rows of wooden benches. Candles burned on sconces on the walls and the scent of incense was heavy in the air. But there, the similarities ended. There was no feeling of peace and tranquility here. Instead Thelwyn felt loathing, fear and disgust. His skin crawled with the powerful feeling of evil that was all around. Foul scratchings covered the walls, seeming to serve no purpose save the desecration of this once holy place. A black altar stood at the front of the room, smoking candles resting on it's polished surface. A pedestal stood in the centre of the altar holding an open book.

But it was none of these things which held Thelwyn's attention and made his legs buckle. It was the thing which stood behind the altar, on a pole of pure ebony. A glowing, crystal shard. A fragment of the great Darkstone!

Thelwyn did not know how he knew it, but something told him he was right. He suddenly felt warm and comforted and a feeling of peace entered him. The Darkstone seemed the most beautiful thing in the world and Thelwyn wanted nothing more than to hold it and possess it as his own. He began to struggle with his bonds and the Stalkers at last began to pay him some notice. But Thelwyn didn't care. He only wanted to touch the shard, to take it from this place of evil.

A voice suddenly entered his head and Thelwyn instantly stopped his struggles to listen. It was a peaceful voice, gentle but strong. "Listen carefully Thelwyn Korman. You do indeed look at a shard of the great Darkstone, the greatest gift from God to Man. Revel in it's beauty but do not assume to own it. It is not your place to possess such a thing. That honour is reserved for another. A man who will find all the shards and restore our world. Your task is smaller, but no less important. You will not die this day Thelwyn, nor anytime soon, but you must follow my commands and be steadfast. The Lord of these foul creatures has a strong presence here, and for good reason. He must guard the shard in the hope that one day it will be reforged and he can draw power from it. You must assure that that does not happen. His power is centred on that book you see ahead of you. Here is what you must do...."

The Stalkers kept still and silent for long moments as the Vampire moved forward to the altar. It moved with a grace and power which sent a chill through Thelwyn's body. But he kept his faith and stood strong. The vampire moved behind the altar and spread it's hands over the pages. It's piercing gaze moved over the assembled Stalkers as it began to chant, an evil sound, full of hate and terror.

Thelwyn waited breathlessly, his hands clenching and unclenching. He kept his eyes fixed on the vampire, watching as it's claw-like hands moved ceaselessly over the pages of the book. A soft noise began to fill the room and the Stalkers hissed slightly, knowing what was coming.

Thelwyn hoped and prayed that the voice was right. Something deep inside told him to trust it, but his voice of reason called him a hundred types of fool for not trying to escape while the Stalkers were preoccupied. Thelwyn struggled with his urge to flee and his heart, for long minutes. At last he reached his decision. If he was to die today then so be it. He was ready for death. But his last act would be one of courage. He would wait, as the voice had told him to, and face what was coming. He had never backed down to his fears in the past, and he would live up to that virtue now, in his last hour.

He felt at peace as the noise increased in volume and intensity. The Stalkers seemed close to panic now and fell to their knees, heads bowed. Thelwyn kept his head high and watched as a dull light shot up from the pages of the book. The candlelight dimmed in the room and a cold wind seemed to fill the air, yet Thelwyn barely noticed. His attention was fixed on the figure which was materialising from the light.

It was nothing but a head and shoulders, floating in the air above the vampires head, but that was enough to feel the pure evil of the thing. It had the appearance of a man, but thelwyn knew it was no man. Even now he could feel the sheer power emanating from it. Nothing was that strong, except, a God!

Thelwyn felt his will about to shatter. How could he face a God? And one of the firstborn, the creators of the world! He felt the walls of courage begin to crumble.

A new light beamed from the Darkstone and another form appeared beside the first, this one giving off an aura of peace and tranquility. Thelwyn felt his hope flourish and knew that this was the sign the voice had told him of. Barely able to contain himself, he struggled with his bonds, but even as he prepared to break them they fell from his wrists and ankles. Thelwyn smiled and whispered a swift prayer then hurried forward.

The Stalkers were on their feet once more, staring at the new figure in fear and astonishment. For the moment, their attention was distracted but Thelwyn knew it would not last. The vampire however, was a different matter. It saw him approaching and snarled, a bestial contortion of it's face, turning it into something from a nightmare.

"You!" It hissed, dropping into a crouch, fangs bared. "You bring this...this..blasphemy upon us! You must die for your act!" Then it pounced, moving directly for his throat. Thelwyn was ready. He dropped back swiftly and grabbed one of the wooden candle stands. It's end was sharpened to a point and he thrust it forward...directly into the oncoming chest of the vampire.

It screeched. A noise of hatred so strong and terrifying that Thelwyn almost lost his grip on the candle holder. As it was he could barely keep hold as the creature squirmed and thrashed on the end of the makeshift stake. It howled its agony and cast a final, pleading look at it's God, before collapsing, dead, on the ground.

Thelwyn dropped the pole and took a second to catch his breath before diving forward to the altar. The book was still open, the murky light streaming from it's pages. As he approached it he heard the Dark God curse. But the other God, the one of light, moved to intercept and the two faced off. One of Good, one of evil, both working towards a common goal, the reforging of the Darkstone.

Thelwyn tore his attention from the two Gods and let it fall on the book. It was the source of the dark God's power here. He snatched it up and very nearly dropped it again in revulsion. The thing had squirmed in his hands, as though trying to free itself. Fighting back his disgust, Thelwyn moved to the nearest of the candles and thrust the book into the small flame.

Amazingly it burst into immediate flame and Thelwyn dropped it, surprised at the intesity of the fire. As it burned he heard Seluctruh curse above him. Slowly, as the fire consumed the black book, so the image of the God faded away, and with it, the image of Tarin.

With the disappearance of the two Gods, the Shadow Stalkers seemed to come to life. They snarled, and moved forward as one, intent on the lone human who had caused them such trouble. Thelwyn dropped behind the altar and searched desperately for a weapon. His gaze went to the corpse of the vampire where it lay a few feet from him. The hilt of a sword stuck out from beneath the body and Thelwyn lunged for it as the first of the Shadow Stalker blades swung for him.

Thelwyn grabbed the sword and let his momentum carry him forward. He rolled once and leaped to his feet, turning to face the oncomming Stalkers. He counted five in the few seconds he had, and gipped his sword tighter, reassured by the feel of the cold metal.

As the Stalkers drew near, a rumbling sound began to grow all around. For a moment, Thelwyn was confused but then the answer hit him. He looked at the book and saw it was almost completely destroyed by the candle flame, and with it, the power which held this place together!

Thelwyn watched the Shadow Stalkers stop and look at each other in confusion. Thelwyn took his chance and leapt forward, cutting into the nearest foe. It fell quickly to his blade, but the others had noticed and were once more pressing forward, each one eager for the kill.

Thelwyn staggered as the floor began to shake, and watched as several of the Stalkers fell to the ground. He thrust forward killing another swiftly. Then turned and raced for the doors. Rubble began to fall from the roof, and Thelwyn swerved desperately to avoid them. Dust began to fill the room and he gagged and coughed as he fought to remain standing. From behind him, he heard the screams of the Stalkers as the bricks and rock crushed them. He smiled grimly and hurried onwards.

As he reached the doors, a dark shape moved to block his way and Thelwyn swung his sword, gaining satisfaction from the death cry he heard. Then he was out and running from the building as fast as he could. When he reached the relative safety of the trees he turned and looked back, watching as the temple toppled to the ground with a rending crash. Dust milled about as the rubble settled but it was over. The evil of Seluctruh was buried beneath the rock and debris. But so was the shard of the Darkstone.

For a moment Thelwyn struggled with the urge to go back and search for it, but he knew the voice had been right. It was not his place to own such a thing. His destiny was complete. He could return home at last.

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