The Wraith-Knight: Part One

"Invalid Item" 

         Darkness.
         It was a place of warm, comforting safety. There was a sense of floating, akin to being in the womb,... and then it was shattered.
         Light, harsh, white, and brilliantly bright, flared in the darkness. It tugged and pulled until the place of warmth and darkness was far behind. A sense of fantastic spinning was followed by a jarring sensation. Then the darkness returned, but not for long.

         The beginnings of the plain would have been beautiful if not for the desires and ambitions of man. The pristine beauty of nature had been blasphemed against by the presence of man once again. The dead lay where they'd fallen, many still clutching weapons, all wearing their finest armor. The distinction between the soldiers of either side of the conflict was readily apparent. One forces soldiers seemed to be tribesman of some kind clad in furred leathers and wielding maces and shortswords. The other forces soldiers had obviously been more professional in nature as they were dressed in fine chainmail and plate armor. These soldiers seemed to have wielded better weapons as well.
         An observer might have wondered how such an organized looking army could have lost to such a disorganized, tribal one. The answer lay in the scattered bodies easily half a head taller than the bodies of men. A knowledgeable observer would have recognized the runic symbols tattooed on some of the tribal warriors bodies as those belonging to the fabled WereLords of the Middle Plains. These fantastic warriors of questionable sanity were said to be worth a score of trained soldiers.
         Scattered in bunches around these WereLords and their inhuman guards lie men and women dressed in fine chainmail tunics with symbols emblazoned in what looked like long-dried blood. The triple crescent symbol of the vaunted Wraith-Knights of Loriea. They seemed to have paid a ghastly price for their bravery in the face of terrifying odds.
         The battlefield's eeiry silence was shattered by a agonized cry.

         Awareness returned to a corpse with a gut-wrenching scream. The body writhed and bucked as if in the throes of terrible pain. Slowly, ever so slowly, the figures convulsions eased and it settled down onto its back. The figure panted as if breathing was just being remembered and implemented. With a groan the figure sat up and touched its head.
         The figure, dressed in a soldier's chainmail, touched his head lightly and winced. Turning his neck slowly, hearing his vertebrae pop from disuse, he surveyed his surroundings.          The smell of old blood and violence was still heavy in the air. The scene of carnage around him did not seem to faze the soldier in the slightest.
         What happened? he thought, looking down at the ground.
         The soldier tried to remember how he had come to the battlefield and could not. It was as if his memories were encased in a mire of infathomable depths. They just could not be brought to the surface. He could remember nothing of where he came from, where he lived, what his name was...he could not even recall what he looked like. Maybe if he searched the battlefield he would find something that would bring forth a memory.
         The newly awakened man rose to his feet. Glancing down the soldier spotted a servicable looking shortsword. He picked it up and unbuckled the scabbard from around the waist of a dead soldier who was missing an arm. The man was surprised that he was not disgusted by the scavenging of corpses that could have once been his comrades. He did not ponder it though as he buckled the scabbard around his waist.
         The silent figure walked the battlefield for nearly an hour before growing tired and despondent from lack of success. He sat on the cold, blood soaked ground next to a large body clutching what looked like some type of huge spiked club. The soldier drove the sword into the soil between his legs and studied the rather short blade.
         The weapon was a plain one, a simple worn leather hilt, and strong crossguard. The blade itself was as cold and implacable as the ashen sky above him. It was a simple lineman's weapon, not good enough for the King's Elite...
         Memory hit the soldier like a bolt of lightning from the angry sky. He remembered a man in simple white robes standing over him as the soldier bowed in reverance before an altar of... he couldn't recall, but he did remember that the man was someone of great importance to him. The haunted soldier remembered others being around him, all barely able to contain their excitement at what the man was saying, but he remembered how surreal the moment had been. The Man in White had sprinkled some sort of sparkling dust over his bowed head before repeating some bizarre chant. The soldier could remember none of his words except those he said when the ritual was done.
         " From now until your deaths, into the next world, you are all a part of the King's Elite," the next words shook the soldier to the very core, " You are and will forever be.... Wraith-Knights! "
         The soldier stared at his blood-covered hands in horror.
         " What am I?! " he roared at the uncaring sky.
         " Help me! " a young, feminine voice called to the soldier from across the battlefield.
         Reflex took over the soldier's body as he snatched up a round shield from the bloated white arm of a corpse and retrieved his shortsword. The stoic soldier studied the shape hurtling toward him over countless bodies without breaking its stride.
         It was a woman... no, a girl really. She was shorter than the soldier, but not by much, with.... could her hair really be white? She barreled into him, hugging the soldier tightly around the waist, almost squeezing the life from him.
         " Help me! Help me, please! " she pleaded, still hugging him close.
         The confused soldier roughly disengaged her and she looked him in the eyes beseechingly. He started slightly at the eeiry green eyes that seem to almost glow in the dim light.
         " What do you need help with, girl? " he asked, for a moment shocked at the otherworldly sound of his voice.
         " They're coming. " she said, simply pointing back the way she'd come.
         The soldier looked the way she was pointing and saw impossible shapes coming toward them. He estimated that if he stood beside one if would tower over the soldier by nearly a dozen centimeters. There were at least three of them coming for the girl. What was she to him that he should risk himself against giants for her sake?
         'Duty' a voice whispered in his head.
         The decision was made almost before the soldier fully realized it.
         "Stay behind me," he told her, "Never get in the way of my sword arm or it may fell you by mistake. Understand? "
         "I understand," she answered in a small, frightened voice.
         " Don't worry, I'll protect you," he said to reassure the girl, while wishing that someone were there to reassure him.
         The soldier judged the rate at which his newfound enemies were appoaching and found that he had a few precious moments to prepare. The rushed warrior looked around quickly, surprised at how calm and focused his mind had become, searching for weapons that would aid him. He spotted a quartet of barbed javelins strapped to the back of a rather thin corpse. The soldier quickly removed the javelins from their loops and planted them in a row in front of him. He spotted a battle-axe in serviceable condition and strapped the breakaway axe-loop across his back.
         " They're coming," the girl whimpered in terror.
         The soldier turned to her and grinned reassuringly," Only to meet their end, pretty."
         Now why in the hell did I say that?
         The soldier's gaze almost involuntarily dropped to the girls feet and he gasped at what she was standing in front of. It was a sheathed longsword that outwardly looked no different from all the others around him, but....he knew. The soldier picked it up reverently without knowing quite why and drew the blade out a bit. An almost blinding blue-white light burst from the blade. The soldier slammed it back home into its scabbard with a wide grin.
         A Wraith-Sword.
         The soldier buckled on the Wraith-Sword so that he could draw it with his better sword hand, his left hand, then he started breathing deeply and rhythmically. The voice began whispering in his mind again, it was comforting and yet at the same time immensely powerful and awe-inspiring,' Once battle is joined there can be no other thoughts, no emotions. There is only you and your opponent. Attack and Counterattack. Survival and Death. '
         The first shape came close enough so that that the soldier could make it out. He gasped in shock at the sight of.... it was the only way he could think to describe it. It looked to be nothing more than a lizard that decided to stand on its hind legs and grow to monstrous proportions.
         No, he thought, that's not quite right. They look like the product of a man being begotten by some monstrous reptile of a mother.
         The soldier saw that his assessment of their height was accurate as they drew closer. They were dressed in loose chainmail shirts that reached almost to their knees and what appeared to be some kind of furred breeches. They wore some kind of bracer on their arms and thick looking anklets. Each of the lizard-men was armed with sharply curved blades with serrated edges that looked made for inflicting serious hurt to a body and a metal round shield not unlike the one he wore.
         The soldier quickly glanced at the state of his armor and was not heartened by it. The light chainmail shirt had several large gashes in it and several of the steel discs on the leather breeches had been shattered even though his legs seemed fine.
         " They're coming! " the girl screamed hysterically.
         " Time to die. " the soldier whispered, though he didn't know who he meant it for.
         The first one came within range, almost thirteen meters, but at the inhuman speed the lizard-men moved it was closing fast. The soldier surprised himself by snatching a javelin, hurling it into the air, snatching another, and hurling that one, all in the time it took for half a breath. He was in motion before the two javelins were halfway through their arcs. The last two javelins were in the air before he completed his breath.
         The soldier watched in horror as the lead lizard-man dodged the first javelin and caught the second on his shield without breaking stride. The second deflected the third so that it barely grazed his shoulder. The soldier almost cheered when the final one embedded itself rather messily into the third lizard-man's eyesocket. The soldier calmly picked up his briefly discarded shortsword and waited for the lizard-men to close the distance.
         The soldier was momentarily surprised when they stopped in front of him. The leader, the skillful one, studied him long and hard.
         " This is no concern of yours peasant," he told the tattered looking soldier in a cold and yet well-cultured voice, "She belongs to us, sentenced to die by our hand for treason against the new King. Just because you scavenged the crest and clothes of a Wraith-Knight... and through sheer luck on your part, managed to kill one of my Guard, doesn't mean that you can win against the two of us. "
         The soldier, without a sound, hurled the shortsword at the second of the two lizard-men, the action was so fast and instinctive that the soldier himself had trouble following the motion, but the results were fairly obvious. The shortsword was buried up to its hilt in the second lizard-mans skull. There was surprisingly little blood, but the lizard-mans slack body hitting the ground was very good testimony to the fact that his life was over.
         With a silibant roar the leader charged the soldier, his sword held high, shield out in front to defend. The soldier's reflexes took over again as he drew the Wraith-Sword. The brilliant blue-white light emanating from the blade made the lizard-man hesitate for just an instant. The soldier slammed his shield down onto the butt of the javelin that was still protruding from his enemy's shield. The soldier put so much unrestrained power into the blow that the shield, and much of the lizard-mans hand flew off into the distance. The lizard-man brought his sword around with shocking speed for someone having just sustained such a grievous injury. The soldier brought his Wraith-Sword up to parry the lizard-man's blow and was almost blinded by a flash of white light. The soldier could see enough to know that his sword has shattered his opponent's weapon into bits and pieces of metal. His hand, almost without conscious guidance, brought the Wraith-Sword back around to take off the lizard-mans head in a shower of fountaining blood.
         The soldier stepped back, surveying the carnage, and found that he was not even breathing hard. He turned back to the girl and held the sword up to her throat. She looked at him as if she had seen something wonderful come to life before her.
         " Who are you? And what did they want with you? " the soldier asked her, his voice coming out gravelly now.
         She smiled at him shyly," Why, Rashad, I am the Necromancer that brought you back to life. "
         The soldier looked the girl up and down thoughtfully. Except for her ood green eyes and white hair, she didn't look like anything special at all. Her clothes were the plain woolen skirts and blouse of a farmgirl. Her face wasn't too homely, but it was NOT the kind of face to inspire epic poems. She didn't carry any of the tools that everyone said Necromancer used to carry out their nefarious spells.
         " You don't look like much of a Necromancer to me, girl, " he told her with a grin on his face as he sheathed the Wraith-Sword.
         She frowned at him angrily, " What do you want me to do? Shoot fire out of my ass!? I'm not some stinking Sorceror, Rashad! "
         The soldier frowned at her in turn as he went about retrieving his weapons," Why do you keep calling me, Rashad? That's not my name. "
         The Necromancer laughed, almost to herself, " I'm surprised you can remember how to walk, Rashad, let alone your own name. "
         She's right, the soldier thought to himself in disgust, but he would be damned if he would admit that to her.
         The confused man pulled the barbed javelin from the metal round shield of the dead lizard-man and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was none the worse for wear. He placed it back in its loop on the shoulder harness and moved to the second corpse.
         " So what else do you know about me? " the soldier calmly asked as he walked toward the relatively unscathed body.
         " Not much I must admit, " she said, her voice betraying a hint of worry, " The spell I cast called forth a warrior with iron will as well as iron body. I don't even know your real name. "
         The soldier stepped up to the lizard-man with the shortsword in the eye. Luckily the heavy looking bastard had landed on his back so the soldier did't have to roll him over. The soldier planted a steel-toed boot on the scaly warrior's mailed chest and pulled the sword from his skull in a shower of blood, bone, and what little brains the creature had had to begin with. He sheathed the blade and buckled the shortsword opposite his Wraith-Sword.
         " Why do you call me Rashad? " the soldier asked as he began the walk to pick up his remaining javelins.
         The Necromancer remained silent until the soldier reached the first javelin, " He was my brother. "
         " Where is he now? " he asked, gently.
         " Dead. " she said in a voice as quiet as the battlefield had been earlier.
         The soldier retrieved the second javelin," If you did revive me. Tell me what I am. "
         The Necromancer seemed to brighten up a bit at this question, " As near as I can tell you are closer to your title than you were before. You are now a true Wraith-Knight. "
         " What does that mean exactly? " the soldier asked in puzzlement.
         " You will be stronger than even a WereLord and faster than a Darter. You will have the senses of a tiger-man. You don't need food, drink, or even sleep. You will heal almost instantly from minor wounds that are inflicted on you. You can't touch some things now, most people being one of them, but you will once- "
         The bewildered soldier kicked another lizard-man over onto his back to get at the javelin sticking from his eye," Once what? "
         " You need to drink the blood of your enemies, " she said quickly, as if the words burned her mouth.
         The soldier cursed softly under his breath, " Why did you summon me, girl? "
         She looked at him desperately, " Please you must drink the blood. If you don't, I will die with you, and no one can bring us back from where we will go. We are linked. As long as I live, you shall be kept in this world. Please, drink his blood. "
         " The question first. " the soldier told her.
         She took a deep breath, " I summoned you to help me kill the King. "
         The soldier was unprepared for the feelings of anger and bloodlust that the girl's words brought out in him. Words escaped from his lips as though they were waiting for just such an oppurtunity.
         " I'll help you in your mission, Necromancer," he told her as he mentally prepared himself for a gruesome act.
         The girl greeted his statement with a shy smile as she handed the soldier a small earthen cup, " Use this to gather the blood before it grows cold. "
         The soldier bent down to the corpse, notciing that the body had a small, wickedly curved looking dagger on its left outer thigh. The soldier removed the blade from its sheathe and whistled in admiration. It was only six inches long but the serrated blade and hilt looked to have been done by a master. The hilt was made of a delicate ivory with some bizarre runes etched into it. The soldier unstrapped the sheathe from the lizard-man's leg and strapped it to his own. He rolled the lizard man onto his back and slit his throat. The soldier held his bald, pebbly-fleshed head up and placed the cup under the thick flow of blood. He stared at the Necromancer from out of the corner of his eye.
         " I don't even know your name, " the soldier said with a glance in the Necromancer's direction.
         The smallish woman smiled at him sweetly," It's Bethany. Why did it take so long for you to ask? "
         The soldier shrugged and said, " I was prepared to kill you and it never does any good to know the name of a person you've murdered. That's one of the things I CAN remember. "
         Bethany's smile faded quickly, " What made you ask now? "
         " A slave should know its master's name, unless you want me to call you Master, " the soldier told her as the cup started to overflow.
         The hesistant soldier sniffed the brew and could almost taste it on his tongue. Instead of gagging at the smell, the soldier's mouth began to water and he licked his lips thirstily. The soldier dipped a finger into the thick, red liquid and gingerly brought it to his lips. He licked the tip of his finger hesistantly. The tip of his tongue started to tingle. The cup was suddenly at his lips and he was drinking it as though it were the sweetest of liquids. When the cup was drained, he bent down and placed the cup to retrieve more of the wonderful stuff. He grabbed the corpse's legs and tilted it in an effort to get more of the quickly cooling stuff. The cup was quickly filled again and the insatiable Wraith-Knight greedily drank it down. The soldier felt oddly full now, as though his stomach could not yet expand to its full capacity.
         The ressurected warrior tilted his head back and shouted in raw delight at the feeling in his body. It was as if someone had placed lightning inside him. He could feel unfamiliar strength, speed, and grace in his limbs that he could't recall from his sketchy memories of his former life.
         A sniffing sound interrupted his celebration though. He turned and was startled to find the girl crying.
         " What is the matter with you? " he asked as he bent to clean his newly acquired dagger.
         She looked at him strangely with those bewildering green eyes, " You think I'm a monster. You think you are my slave. "
         " But isn't that what I am, " the soldier asked in puzzlement as he sheathed his dagger, " Wouldn't you have killed me if I hadn't agreed to your offer? Isn't that within your power?"
         " The spell doesn't work like that, " the girl said, tears falling freely down her face, " It was created for Necromancers who's loved one had died before their time and whom they wanted back more than life itself. Once done, only the death of the caster can break the bond. They become what we call Blood Companions. But you hate me. "
         The soldier stood there without the slightest idea what to do as the girl continued to cry. He ackwardly patted her on the shoulder.
         " Hey, don't cry, I didn't mean it. I was just a little angry that's all. I can't say that we'll be friends, but I don't hate you. "
         " You will be my Blood Companion? " she asked him, her tears still wet on her cheeks.
         " Sure. "
         " Do you have a camp nearby, Bethany? " he asked the young Necromancer.
         Bethany nodded and pointed back toward the way she had come.
         " Were these the only lizards chasing you? " the soldier asked her, gesturing to one of the lizard-men he'd dispatched earlier.
         Bethany nodded again and said," The leader lied to you. The King doesn't want me personally. He wants all Necromancers everywhere to be put to death. He fears that a powerful Necromancer will find where he slayed the old King and make him a Blood Companion. "
         Something that she had said puzzled him, " Why does he fear powerful Necromancers? "
         Bethany smiled wickedly," Oh, no, he fears all Necromancers. But powerful ones especially because the stronger the Necromancer, the more powerful the Blood Companion they raise. "
         The soldier narrowed his eyes at the Necromancer," How powerful are you? "
         She shrugged, " I'm still young. My power is growing and was just enough to raise you. As I grow in strength, you will grow in strength. I don't know what either of us will become. "
         It was the ressurected warrior's turn to shrug as he said," Back to the question? "
         Bethany blinked in surprise as if she had forgotten all about the original question," Yes, they were the only three, they hunt in trios mostly. "
         " Good, then we'll have time before someone else comes looking for these three. Let's go...quickly. "
         Without another word Beth began striding toward her campsite. The soldier followed her and was amazed at how easily he was able to move with all the weaponry he carried. The two of them made time quickly and the sky gradually began to darken.
         " Do you have horses? " he asked her as the two of them came to the edge of what looked to be a small forest.
         " No," she answered as the two of them made their way into the lightly tree'd forest.
         The newborn Wraith-Knight asked no other questions, waiting until they came to the campsite before making anymore decisions, still scarcely able to believe all that had happened to him. He had always seemed to have a talent to accept the hand that fate dealt him, but this was something else all together. Brought back from the dead to kill a King who he knew nothing about, not even remembering the battle that had killed him, and drinking the blood of a vanquished enemy. It was some heavy shit to take.
         " Here we are," Beth said as they stepped into a small clearing.
         The campsite was a small tidy one. A small campfire in the center of the clearing. There was a sleeping bag placed a meter or so away from the campfire. Atop it was a neat looking travel satchel. On the opposite side of the campfire was... a large circle of glittering blue dust. There were four strange symbols marking the four corners of a square outside the circle. Within the circle was what looked to be the broadsword and spear of Kolis device of the Wraith-Knights drawn in red sand. The entire scene looked damaged, as though large bodies had paused to momentarily try to disrupt whatever spell had been cast here. The soldier could guess who had tried to ruin the spell.
         Bethany turned to him, " So what do we do now? "
         The Wraith-Knight slowly began removing his assortment of weapons from his body. Starting with his javelins.
         " We should rest here for the night and discuss our plans tomorrow. Agreed? "
         Bethany nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the sparkling dust at her feet, her lips moving slowly in some kind chant. Suddenly it felt as if someone had run whisperbreath down the soldier's spine. He shivered in a delicate, fluid motion, that he didn't think was anything even remotely normal, and looked sharply at Bethany. His jaw dropped in astonishment as the dust flared into rainbowish brilliance. Bethany was surrounded by a shimmering cloud of the magic dust. She retrieved a small cloth bag from her belt pouch and held it open. She barked a word in some bizarre language that was almost pleasant to his ears. The dust came together in a whirlwind of colors that had its tail at the mouth of the bag. With a rush of air the magic dust was sucked into the bag.
         Bethany dropped to the ground as if she were boneless.
         The warrior quickly discarded his battle-axe and rushed over to her. He got her to sit upright and slowly rubbed her frail back. A strange tingling feeling ran from a spot near his elbow into his hand. Bethany's panting gasps for air quickly became deep, smooth breaths.
         The Necromancer looked at him wide-eyed," What are you doing to me? "
         He shrugged," How am I supposed to know? " he answered her with a sly grin," What does it feel like? "
         She took a long, deep breath," Like I'm regaining some of my strength. "
         Of their own accord the soldier's ears seemed to focus on a sound coming from behind Bethany. Then they focused on another, similar sound coming from behind him. In a flash of insight he recognized the sounds.
         Someone was trying their best to sneak up on his position.
         The sounds of swords being quietly eased from their scabbards caused the warrior to react without hesistation. He drew the lizard-man's knife from its sheathe and flicked it over Bethany's shoulder at the man-sized shadow of grey and brown. There was a loud shriek of pain and the two stalkers behind him sprang into action. The Wraith-Knight rolled backwards, scooping up the relatively unblooded battle-axe and swinging it with hardly a clear image of his opponent. The short, skinny man in dirty, smelly rags screamed in agony as the soldier's axe cleanly sliced through the brigands raised sword arm. The soldier quickly straightened to his full height and decapitated the bandit. The man's head popped off like a cork and the Wraith-Knight was showered with blood.
         He turned to the last bandit, a taller, heavier, but just as smelly one, and licked the blood from his lips hungrily. The bandit paled and turned to run. With a snarl the warrior hurled the axe at the fleeing bandit's back single-handed, with barely a sigh of effort, knowing somehow that he shouldn't have been able to do such a thing. The axe hurtled through the chilly night air and embedded itself deeply into the bandits back. He screamed in pain and fell facefirst to the ground. The Wraith-Knight ran over to him, drawing his shortsword in a fluid motion, and knelt down next to him. He quickly, and messily, slit his throat and began catching the still flowing blood in one cupped hand. The vampiric-warrior quickly brought the coppery liquid to his lips and drank heartily.
         The Wraith-Knight shivered with raw pleasure.
         " Help," a man's voice echoed through the night somewhere to the west.
         " Someone needs help, Rashad," Bethany said, her voice concerned.
         I would be resurrected by a Necromancer with a heart, he thought in bemusement, yet he was also relieved to find it so.
         The Wraith-Knight spotted a large hunting knife on the belt of the brigand he'd just slain and quickly removed the weapon. He tossed it over to Bethany as he quickly buried the fire. The warrior cleaned his shortsword on a dead man's shirt, something that seemed oddly familiar, and sheathed the blade. He retrieved his lizard-man blade from the skull of the other brigand, the blade had penetrated just below his eye, and quickly cleaned and sheathed that. He quickly donned his worn round shield, secured the Wraith-Sword across his back and took up his battleaxe in both hands. He decided to leave the javelins behind as he didn't think those were the best weapons for close-in, night fighting. The Wraith-Sword was hardly better, but he didn't want to leave that behind.
         He turned to Bethany," Stay here, hide in the trees, and I'll be back as soon as I can. If they come for you, wait until they get close and use the knife as best you can. "
         " Be careful, Rashad," he thought she whispered as he rushed toward where the man's scream had come from.
         The night was a cloudless one and the moon was bright in the sky, but that didn't explain the surprising detail that the warrior found he could see his surroundings. Everything was bathed in silvery moonlight, but it was as if the moonlight was the brightest of daylight to him. Rashad could clearly see signs of someone's flight and the even more obvious signs of pursuers.
         Rashad moved as quickly and as silently as he could. His body responded as if it were an old skill just rekindled by the need to be used. Dim memories of hunts with a number of boys and girls flickered through the amnesiac's mind. There were also images of hunts with young men and women. In none of those memories could he remember moving with either such speed or stealth as he found himself able to move with now.
         Rashad slowed as the sounds of struggle reached his ears. He slowly entered a thick row of shrubs and observed the scene behind his screen of foliage. There were as many as six bandits, who seemed in no better condition than the ones Rashad had dispatched earlier, trading sword blows with three men in the brown leather jerkin and billowy tan pants of the common mercenary. Behind them stood a tall man with a slight paunch that Rashad could discern as if his nose were laying against it. The man clutched three large sacks as if his children were inside. Rashad saw one of the men go down and that made him spring into action.
         With a warcry that seemed familiar, bringing a moment of shocked calm to the battlefield, the Wraith-Knight charged forward. All of their faces paled in fright as his features came into view. Rashad swung the axe and took the first one across the neck. His head flew off and struck another brigand in the face. That spurred everyone else back into furious combat. The warrior noticed that the brigands left two of their own to take on the remaining mercenaries and the remaining three began encircling him.
         With another booming warcry Rashad charged the one on his left. Then his world was reduced to a blur of darting swords, deflecting with the shaft of his axe and blocking with his shield. Rashad swung the axe as if it were the lightest of blades. Within moments he found himself ending the combat by slicing the legs out from under the last brigand and plunging his shortsword, unsheathed sometime in the heat of combat, into his belly. Rashad twisted it as he pulled the blade out and snapped the dying man's neck with a well placed boot to quiet his screams.
         Rashad turned and found that the mercenaries had won both their battles. One stepped up to the Wraith-Knight with his sword raised slightly in warning as Rashad cleaned the shortsword. He was a tall, muscular man, with reddish-brown hair and pale skin. A raw looking wound had been opened along one cheek and blood oozed from a cut on his thigh. His companion walked up beside him and Rashad saw that the two were bloodkin. They had similar heights and builds, but the second had darker hair and looked younger.
         The older one pointed his sword at Rashad in what he thought was a warning," What is your business here? "
         The newly reborn warrior stood erect, mildly pleased that he bettered the mercenary in height, and said," Someone called for help, so I came. "
         " Why are you dressed like a Wraith-Knight? " the younger one asked," They were all killed at the Great Battle of the High Plain. "
         " Enough questions! " the one with the sacks, which clinked as he approached, roared," We must go. They said that they had more men coming to find us. We must leave this place now. "
         Before any of them began to move, Rashad rushed up to the man and grabbed him by the collar of his soiled linen shirt.
         " How many more? " Rashad growled.
         " I don't know, " the merchant panted," Please, I swear it, let me down! "
         Rashad started as he realized that he had been holding the man, who surely bettered him in weight, up a full two inches above the ground with a single arm. Rashad let him down and cursed himself for a fool would-be hero.
         Without another word or glance for the three, Rashad began sprinting with every bit of speed he possessed, back to Bethany's campsite. It seemed that within seconds he was racing into the campsite. The Wraith-Knight caught sight of Bethany surrounded by at least three bandits. He took a breath to scream a warcry and was blinded by a harsh light that seemed to burst forth from Bethany. The screams of men in mortal agony assaulted his ears for a few moments and then all was silent again. Rashad's eyes cleared surprisingly fast and he couldn't believe them.
         Before Bethany sat three piles of the magic dust. With a gesture the dust swirled into Bethany's pouch.
         Rashad grinned as he stepped forward and clapped her on the shoulder in relief.
         " Why didn't you do that when the lizard-men were chasing you? " he asked her, curious, but still glad that she lived.
         The powerful Necromancer smiled shyly," I needed to see how good you were. I'm sorry. "
         " Don't worry about it," Rashad told her, smiling widely," We're both alive aren't we? "
         From behind Rashad came the sounds of the mercenaries and their employer making their way to he and Bethany.
         " Who were they? " she asked, concern in her voice.
         " Mercenaries and their employer, most likely," Rashad answered her, debating their next move.
         " This way! " Rashad called to them and then turned to Bethany," Quickly gather your things. If we're lucky we can get them to travel with us to the next town. We'll need extra bodies if there are any more bandits in the area. If we're not lucky I might have to kill them. "
         Bethany nodded sharply and hurriedly began gathering her supplies. The Wraith-Knight quickly shifted the Wraith-Sword's scabbard to his hip and strapped the javelins across his back. He adjusted his other blades so that they sat on him more comfortably and wiped the axehead with a piece of a dead man's shirt. He could hear men approaching and he turned to examine Bethany. She had managed to gather all of her belongings into a tiny bundle. Tied to the top of the bundle was her sleeping bag. He was glad to see that she had belted the hunting knife around her waist.
         " Follow my lead, ok? " he told Bethany, hoping she'd agree, and almost sighing in relief when she nodded with a tiny smile.
         The men come into sight through the trees. They were jogging quickly and the taller mercenaries were carrying the merchant's bags of gold. They all stopped and stared behind Rashad at Bethany until the stony faced warrior blocked their view.
         The merchant grinned oily," I can see why you ran off so quickly. I can understand your... haste. "
         " What are you doing here? " the older mercenary asked, obviously the one in charge.
         " We have newly arrived on the High Plains. We are... salvagers, treasure hunters if you like, and we came here when we heard of the battle, thinking to find something of worth. All we found were lizard-men. " Rashad told them the lie as truthfully as he could.
         " How many? " the younger mercenary asked, his eyes wide.
         " Two," he lied, hoping that it made the tale more believable.
         " And you defeated them by yourself? " the merchant asked, his face astonished.
         Rashad shrugged nonchanlantly and nodded. The older mercenaries eyes narrowed in suspicion while the other two broke out into wide grins.
         " How? " the suspicious one asked, his eyes hidden in shadows.
         " Enough questions," the merchant said," We must away from this place before more bandits find us. You know they scent prey like wild dogs. "
         The older one nodded slowly and sighed deeply while studying Rashad and trying to eye Bethany.
         " We would ask you to join us stranger," the merchant offered, his eyes solemn.
         " Why? " Rashad asked, the taste of success caressing his tongue.
         " We saw you defeat three bandits single-handedly and you say you've killed two lizard-men. They are slimy, stinky bastards, but I know from experience that they make fierce fighters. We lost three men earlier and we could use another sword. Besides, I'd think you'd want to keep that girl safe, and that would be easier if we were all together. " the older mercenary explained it, his hand idly thumbing the hilt of the longsword at his hip.
         Rashad looked at Bethany and she nodded quickly. The Wraith-Knight turned back to the three and said," That sounds good to me. "
         " I am called Ahs'er," the older mercenary began the introductions," This is my little brother, Tai'sher. He is our employer, his name is Yan'dai. And what is your name stranger? "
         " That is Bethany," he nodded at her with a small smile as he gave them the name she had christened him with," And I am Rashad. "
         " We should go back to see what's left of the wagons," Yan'dai suggested.
         " I agree," Rashad said, thinking of how quickly he and Bethany could travel with yar'rill," Do you know how many they left to guard their loot? "
         Ash'er shook his head," No idea. It was all so confusing. I was surprised that we three managed to make it out. "
         Rashad pursed his lips in an unconscious gesture," Then someone will have to scout for us so we don't go walking into another trap. "
         Ahs'er's eyes narrowed at the Wraith-Knight again," Have you ever been a soldier? You have the look of an officer. "
         Rashad shook his head," I've had some training with weapons and at tribal warfare. Nothing terribly formal. "
         Tai'sher broke into the conversation excitedly," I can scout for us, Rashad! " he grinned sheepishly as his brother looked sharply at him," You know I know these woods like I know Elsie's boobs! The only reason we got ambushed was because that stupid ass rookie was doing the scouting. "
         Ahs'er nodded reluctantly," Alright, Tai'sher, you scout our trail out for us. Don't move too fast and get too far ahead. At the first sign of trouble, I want you back here with us. Understand? "
         Tai'sher grinned and jogged away from them. His brother shook his head and chuckled," Yan'dai, you're up front with me. Rashad, you stay in back with Bethany. Stay alert. This area's been crawling with bandits," He grinned at Rashad," and treasure-hunters since the battle. "
         The Wraith-Knight nodded as Ahs'er and Yan'dai took their places at the point. They began marching at a steady pace in the direction that Tai'sher had went off in. Rashad stepped beside Bethany and gestured for her to walk before him. She smiled slightly and followed the merchant and the mercenary. Rashad followed closely behind her as his every sense strained for the slightest hint of the enemy.
         " Why do you think we should go with them? " Bethany whispered to him," You defeated those bandits easily and I'm sure we could have made it without them. "
         " I'm not. Sure I could probably have defeated all of those bandits myself and you may account for a large number, but you tire easily from some spells and even this new body of mine must have its limits. Better we travel with someone than risk it. "
         " Ok," she whispered, her voice resigned.
         Minutes passed quickly as the little group walked through the forest. Suddenly something ran quietly up to Ahs'er. It was Tai'sher and he seemed to be shaken. They stopped and Rashad and Bethany quickly caught up to them.
         " Trouble? " the Wraith-Knight asked, shifting his grip on the battleaxe.
         " Maybe," Ahs'er answered, his voice distracted," Be ready for battle. We may have only one chance. Don't commit until I give my order. Is that understood? "
         Everyone in the little group nodded. Ahs'er and Tai'sher retrieved small, recurved horsebows from their backs. Rashad hadn't noticed the small quivers and cases they had resting almost flat on their backs. Both nocked an arrow and proceeded to walk on soft feet. Rashad gestured for Bethany and Yan'dai to get back, as he removed a javelin from its loop and held it in preparation for a quick flight. The warrior stepped up his pace until he was directly behind the mercenary brothers.
         Within a minute Rashad could make out torchlight in the distance. Another minute brought him to where he could make out the large box wagons and teams of the tall, eight-legged yar'rill. He couldn't believe his eyes as he came into throwing distance of the source of the light and its maker.
         The man would have been of about middling height if he were standing. A long mane of pale golden hair cascaded down his back and over his shoulders. His eyes were the color of a troubled sea. The robes he wore were long and covered in runic designs. He sported a short beard which had been trimmed to a sharp point. He was holding what was casting enough light to shed light on a large section of the hard packed dirt road they stood on.
         It was a ball of pure white flame.
         He was a Sorceror!
         Rashad's arm quivered slightly as he withstood the urge to hurl his javelin at the Sorceror's heart. Ahs'er, Tai'sher and Yan'dai all let out loud sighs of relief. The two mercenaries put their arrows back in their quivers and begin walking towards the sitting Sorceror. Yan'dai quickly went to one wagon, climbed into the back with surprising agility and quickly began muttering a string of curses. Rashad was so surprised by thier actions that he lowered his throwing arm and turned slightly to a startled looking Bethany.
         " Will he be able to tell? " Rashad asked, worriedly.
         The Necromancer shook her head quickly," No, only another Necromancer could and he would have to be searching for you specifically. He won't be able to sense me unless I use my powers. "
         Rashad nodded and gestured for Bethany to walk with him as they joined the others. The conversation seemed to have just started as they walked up to the three.
         Ahs'er walked forward and slapped the Sorceror on the shoulder," What the hell are you doing out here, Ly'nel? "
         The Sorceror, Ly'nel, shrugged," I was on my way back when I felt powerful magic being cast somewhere on the battlefield. I happened upon the sight of your... mishap, and recognizing Yan'dai's wagons, I...," the Sorceror smiled wickedly and with a gesture a band of orange fire appeared above him," ...intervened. "
         Yan'dai rejoined them, rubbing his hands together in obvious glee," And I thank you, Ly'nel, most of the important goods are still intact and all of my gold remains. "
         The Sorceror smiled at Yan'dai," You know my services do not come freely or cheaply, merchant. "
         Yan'dai paled, but nodded slowly," How much? "
         The Sorceror smiled slightly," It was no large matter and you are somewhat of a friend. I'll only charge you twenty-five High Plains gold jits. "
         Rashad tried to stop his jaw from coming unhinged. From what he could recall the sum was enough to set the man up comfortably for at least half a year. The merchant just grinned widely at the price and nodded his agreement.
         " And who might these two strangers be, hmm? " the Sorceror asked.
         Tai'sher broke in excitedly," That's Rashad," he says, pointing to the silent warrior," He's the best fighter I've ever seen. Faster than the the blink of an eye. He's probably as good as old Lot was in his day. "
         Ly'nel looked up at you and smiled slightly at Tai'sher's excitement," And who is his lovely companion? "
         " That's Bethany, they're treasure-hunters. " Tai'sher answered for them again.
         " This is all well and good, but can we get moving," Yan'dai said, nervously," We should get going in case anymore bandit groups are around and you know that there are some creatures near this place that like the taste of Sorceror magic, Ly'nel. "
         The Sorceror nodded and stood. He offered Rashad his hand and the warrior took it gingerly, expecting it to be hot for some reason. Rashad was surprised when the hand turned out to be surprisingly cool.
         " Nice to meet you, Rashad," he said, Rashad nodded and he quickly moved to Bethany.
         Ly'nel took her hand and kissed it as if she were a lady at court," It is a privilege to gaze upon such beauty as yours, my lady. "
         Bethany giggled and tried to hide a smile.
         Rashad thought that she didn't act like a powerful Necromancer.
         " Let's clean this mess up and get the hell out of here. " Ahs'er said, moving to a team of yar'rill.

"The Wraith-Knight: Part Two"