THE KARION CHRONICLES:
HERO'S DAWN
 
IT IS A TIME OF CHAOS.
      Monsters run rampant. Nations teeter on the brink of war. The many beings
of Karion bicker between themselves. There is no end in sight.
      In this dark age, in the Elven kingdom of Gahanaresh, the aging king has
begun to fear for the future. The gray Elves of Gahanaresh have few allies, and
have spent millennia isolated from other beings. Desperate to make new allies so
he may die knowing his kingdom is secure, King Allissan summons his daughter to
him for an important mission...

      The throne room of the Elven King was full of splendor. Built untold eons
ago, it was decorated in the finest gold, silver, and mithiril the Elves had to
offer. It was a strange mixture of natural and Elvish architecture that far
exceeded a Human palace in splendor. King Allissan had always felt that it was
the second most beautiful thing he possessed.
      The most beautiful was his daughter. Her long, silver hair, bright amber
eyes, her fair skin-it all put the throne room to shame. Which was why he was so
dead set against the plan his chief advisor had come up with.
      "I cannot send my daughter away alone!" he protested. "She's barely one
hundred years old!"
      "I would not ask you to do this if I did not feel it was the right thing
to do," the blind old Elf replied as he leaned heavily on his cane. He was at
least eight hundred years old, ancient even by Elven standards. His eyes were
little more than black pits, and his once bright, silvery hair and beard were
now a dull gray. Still, he had a certain gift for seeing the future. Allissan
knew he would never suggest such a thing unless he was certain it was safe, but
his daughter...
      He sighed. "Are you certain it has to be this way, Septii?
      The advisor nodded slightly, looking as if at any moment his head might
snap off his thin neck and roll across the floor. "I am certain."
      Just at that moment the doors of the throne room swung open slowly to
reveal the lovely princess Cellina. She was as beautiful as ever, her hair
hanging over her right shoulder, as was the latest fashion. She wore an
exquisite silk gown of pale blue, a pair of silver necklaces that were easily
worth several thousand gold each. A small amber broach was at the neck of the
gown, and she wore shoes tipped with silver. As usual, her slender, delicate
ears were unadorned. She walked slowly but confidently towards the throne,
revealing a grace that few could match.
      "She won't be happy," Allissan muttered.
      "You sent for me, father?" She asked her melodic voice.
      "My daughter, I have just realized that you are one hundred years old,"
the king said, thinking up a way to break the news to her gently.
      "I've been one hundred for a month now," she said, laughing. Suddenly she
noticed the look on her father's face. "Why do you mention this?" she asked,
carefully.
      "I...just thought that perhaps it was time for you to...see the world,"
the king replied.
      "See the world? I don't understand."
      When the king appeared stuck for an answer, Septii turned slowly to face
the princess. "What your father is trying to say," he said in his wizened voice,
"is that he would like you to visit a few other nations on a special mission. To
improve relations..."
      She breathed a sigh of relief. "Is that all? I thought-"
      "...Alone. And in secret."
      That was less encouraging. "But, father!" she protested. "I-alone? I
wouldn't know what to do!"
      Allissan leaned forward. "My child, I realize that this sounds like a most
dangerous mission. But I would not ask you to do this if I did not believe you
could do it." He glanced at Septi before continuing. "I want you to become an
adventurer."
      Cellina felt her legs go out from under her. She dropped to her knees.
"An...adventurer?" she sat in stunned silence for a long moment.
      "Cellina-"
      She looked up at her father. "I don't know the first thing about being an
adventurer!" she insisted. "I'll be...I'll..." a lump in her throat prevented
her from finishing the sentence. She began to cry softly.
      "Cellina, please don't cry-"
      "Why don't you take Curgurr with you?" Septii suggested.
      "Why don't you send him instead?" Cellina countered between sobs.
      "Summon Curgurr," Allissan told one of the guards. He then glared at
Septii. He was thinking the same question.
      "It is your destiny," the old Elf said simply.
      "I don't care!" she sobbed. "I don't want to go!"
      A moment later, the great doors opened a second time. "What can I do for
you, your majesty?"
      Curgurr was not an Elf. Far from it, he was a Felinar, a race of
intelligent tigers from the distant island of Gyra. He was eight feet tall and
muscular, and he weighed well over five hundred pounds. He could easily lift all
three of them over his head with one clawed hand and throw them like rag dolls.
He was the only known Felinar living on this side of the world.
      His story was a strange one. Silverwing, a silver dragon and long-time
friend of the court, owed Allissan a debt for helping him drive off another
dragon. He repaid his debt by bringing the king Curgurr-a great warrior in his
homeland. Fortunately for the Elves, Curgurr mistook Silverwing for a deity, or
else he would almost certainly have ripped the royal guard to shreds with his
bare hands. In the two years since he had come here, he had learned much, and
now realized that Silverwing was not a God. However, he still served the king
loyally, saying he owed him a great debt for the things he had been taught.
Curgurr was the king's favorite warrior. He could think of no one better to
protect his daughter.
      "Curgurr," he said when the great cat reached the throne, bowing low out
of respect for his king, "my daughter must go on a dangerous mission. I would
like you to accompany her."
      "It would be an honor," he growled softly, still keeping his head lowered,
which was difficult to do since the king was barely five feet tall when he sat
on the throne. "May I ask why the princess is crying?"
      "She does not want to go," the king explained. "It is very dangerous."
      He turned his head to address the princess, careful not to let it raise.
"You need not fear," he said soothingly. "I will let no harm come to you."
      "Don't be so sure," she said, wiping her eyes and standing. "You haven't
heard what we have to do."
      "If I may ask, sire, what is our mission?"
      "You and Cellina will become adventurers in order to improve our foreign
relations problem."
      The warrior furrowed his brow, though no one could see because of how he
hung his head. "Forgive me sire," he said after a moment, "but I cannot see how
that will improve foreign relations."
      "Well..." Allissan found it distracting to talk to someone who was
practically hunched over. "Curgurr, please...stand up." The mighty cat did as he
was told, silently relieved. "By becoming famous heroes, your names will become
ommonplace. And people will begin to associate Gahanaresh with great heroes."
      Curgurr again furrowed his brows. "My lord," he said after a moment, "I
feel I must speak out against this. Surely there are other solutions to our
problem."
      Allissan glared at Septii. He felt the same way, and he wanted the old Elf
to know it. Septii simply shrugged.
      "That is my order," the king said, still glaring at the advisor.
      "Very well," Curgurr said, tuning to the princess and dropping to one
knee. "Then on this day before all the Gods in the heavens, I pledge my life to
you, princess. As long as I live, no harm shall come to you."
      Cellina looked into his eyes, for even on one knee he was about as tall as
she was, and realized that he truly meant what he said. She knew his reputation;
he was a great warrior. For the first time she thought she might survive this
insane mission. "Alright," she said quietly, dropping her head. "I'll go."
      "Good. I'm glad that's settled," the king said earnestly. "And in a few
months-"
      "I beg your pardon, sire," Septii interrupted, "but it will take years for
her to become famous."
      "Years!" the King and Cellina said as one.
      "I'm afraid so," Septii confirmed.
      "If I did not trust you implicitly," the King muttered under his breath.
"Very well. But we will have a feast in honor of this...mission." The last word
he said with a tone that indicated he was no happier than his daughter about it.
      "Actually, sire, it is best that it appears that she ran away from home,"
Septii replied. "Your political opponents might use something like this to
remove you from the throne."
      Allissan was near the breaking point. "Very well," he said through
clenched teeth, "we will make it look as though she ran away."
      "Father!"
      "That will be all, daughter. Curgurr, please make preparations for the
journey. Discretely, if possible."
      "Yes sire," the two said, then turned and strode out of the throne room.
      "Septii, I certainly hope this works out."
      "It will sire. Of that I have no doubt."
      "My daughter is barely out of her apprenticeship. Do you think her magic
will be powerful enough to protect her?"
      "I would stake my life on it, sire," he said.
      "Your life is nearly done. It's my daughter's life I'm worried about."
      "She'll be all right. Trust me."

                              ***

      "Well, how do I look?"
      Curgurr looked his new charge over. She was dressed in fairly common
robes, loose-fitting, and a pair of worn shoes. Her jewelry was gone, her hair
tied into a simple ponytail in the back. She was still quite lovely by Elven
standards, but she lacked fur and whiskers, the two features Curgurr found most
appealing in a woman. He said simply, "It will do."
      He was clothed simply in a suit of chain mail, something he was not fond
of, and carried a halberd and a two-handed sword criss-crossed across his back,
along with a small pack of provisions. He knew he would stick out like a sore
thumb, but he hoped to get to another continent within a few weeks, where at
least people wouldn't recognize him.
      Cellina grabbed her staff from where it rested against the wall and took
one last look at the room she grew up in.
      "Good-bye," she whispered quietly, fighting back tears.
      "Come," Curgurr said. "We should go."
      She followed silently as they crept down the hall like a pair of common
thieves. Suddenly a thought struck her. I will have to mingle with commoners! It
was not particularly appealing. She'd spent most of her life avoiding the common
folk. She wondered how she should act around them?
      "Curgurr, I don't think I can do this," she whispered as they approached
the main gate.
      "It is simpler than you think," Curgurr assured her. "You will see. Anyone
can learn to do this."
      She wasn't very reassured by this, but it seemed she had no choice. They
crept past the guards at the door and slipped into the royal kennel.
      Curgurr went down on all fours, padding slowly across the grounds, the
only sound the soft clinking of his armor. At last, he reached his destination.
      "Thurrurr! Ferr!" He called softly. The two dogs peeked out, then seeing
their master, they ran to him and began affectionately licking his face. Ferr
was a beautiful black Lab, barely more than a pup; Thurrurr, on the other hand,
was a mongrel with a good deal of wolf in him. He was a large dog, with thick
white and gray fur and a long, curled tail.
      "Won't the dogs make a lot of noise?" Cellina asked, secretly hoping they
would, and a guard would find them, and this whole silly mission would be over.
      "I will keep them quiet," Curgurr assured her.
      "Oh," she said, disappointed.
      They then made their way back to the gate, and, making sure the guards
were not watching, slipped out into the darkness.
      The sun would not rise for another three hours. Curgurr had said they
should be miles away by then. Cellina looked back at the palace where she had
lived all her life, but it was barely visible. She looked ahead and concentrated
on keeping up with Curgurr and the two dogs.
      It was a cool night, and very dark-almost totally dark. Curgurr had chosen
it because on this night, both moons were gone from the sky-the Dark Night, the
Elves called it. Though numerous stars shone, without the moons, the sky was a
cold, menacing void. She felt like she was travelling through some kind of
bizarre underworld as she passed beneath the trees on the road that led to the
city of Dress. Even though she had been down this road a hundred times, it
seemed foreign now. She wondered if anything would be the same ever again.
      The hours seemed to crawl by. It was a long way, especially for Cellina,
who was not used to walking for hours at a time. They stopped often to rest, but
nothing could help Cellina's mood. She felt as if her whole world had suddenly
collapsed.
      "Curgurr," she asked as they entered their third hour of walking, "you
think this is silly, right? I don't know the first thing about adventuring.
Shouldn't we turn back?"
      He grunted slightly. "The king has ordered it," he said simply. "We have
no choice but to obey."
      "My father isn't always right," she said.
      "He is not always wrong, either," Curgurr pointed out.
      They walked on for another twenty minutes in silence. Finally, as they
were resting in a small clearing by the side of the road, Curgurr opened his
pack and took out some Culkia-a type of Elven bread-and gave it to Cellina.
      "Aren't you going to eat?" she asked as she broke off a piece and stuffed
it into her mouth greedily.
      "I will purchase some food when we reach Dress," he replied. "My appetite
is-somewhat larger than yours. It would be awkward to carry that much meat
around with us."
      She laughed at the thought of him carrying a cow along with them, very
nearly choking on her Culkia. She carefully swallowed before speaking. "How much
do you eat in a meal?"
      "I eat roughly thirty-five pounds of meat per day," he replied.
      She nearly gagged in surprise. That was a lot of food. He might really
need a whole cow to keep him fed.
      Suddenly a realization came upon her. "Oh no," she groaned. "I left my
spellbook in the palace!"
      "That fact did not escape me," Curgurr said, reaching into the pack and
retrieving her book.
      "It's a good thing you're here," Cellina said, relieved. "I wouldn't have
thought of that until I was already in Dress." She took the thick, leather-bound
tome from her guardian and opened it. It was too dark to read, of course, but
thanks to her superior Elven vision she could tell which pages she had written
on. The book had over one hundred pages. She had written in about a tenth of
that. She closed the book with a sigh. She still had a long way to go before she
was a great mage. That is, if she lived that long.
      Suddenly she realized that Curgurr was not moving. She followed his gaze
to the hunting dog, Ferr. He was perfectly still, pointing into the trees at the
edge of the clearing. She couldn't see what was there, but she didn't need to. A
strong odor, a mixture of sweat and filth, assailed her nostrils. She froze,
hoping whatever it was would go away. It did not.
      Her mind began racing. She couldn't read her spellbook in the dark, but
she did know a few spells by heart. Most were simple cantrips, but she could
cast Burning Hands pretty well, and she knew most of Magic Missile.
      Curgurr drew his sword, accompanied by the familiar sound of steel against
steel. Though it was made for two hands, the great cat was large enough and
strong enough to wield it single-handedly. He stood, slowly, and let out a low
growl. Cellina scrambled to her feet as well, reaching for her staff, which she
had left leaning against a tree.
      From the bushes emerged the ugliest creature Cellina had ever seen. It was
about five-foot-six, with a muscular build and long arms. The thing had a pig-
like snout, and a pair of long, sharp teeth jutted from its bottom jaw. Green
skin, a heavy brow, and greasy black hair finished off its terrible features. It
was dressed in a tattered cloak and a dirty red shirt. Its breeches were torn
off at the knees, revealing ugly, heavily scarred legs and a pair of oversized
feet. A pair of gaudy gold earrings hung from one of the brute's ears, and it
clutched a longsword that was beginning to show signs of rust. She realized at
once what it must be. She'd heard Orcs sometimes attacked travelers, even on
heavily traveled roads like this one, but in all her life she'd never seen one
until now.
      "You give money. Give now," the thing grunted in a poor approximation of
the Elven tongue.
      "I don't think so," Curgurr growled.
      Seven more Orcs emerged from the bushes. "You give, or we take. You die,"
the leader said in his throaty, guttural voice.
      Curgurr stepped forward. "I said no." Ferr had not moved since the Orc had
appeared, but was growling and barring his teeth. Thurrurr ran up alongside
Cellina, barking loudly.
      "Silly dogs not scare us," the Orc laughed. His men began to surround the
two.
      Curgurr stepped forward again, placing himself between Cellina and largest
group of Orcs. "If you throw down your weapons and leave peaceably, I will spare
your life," he promised.
      The Orcs laughed loudly. "We eight. You two," the leader said. "You die!"
      One of the Orcs, tired of all this talking, charged Curgurr, screaming
wildly. Cellina saw a bright flash as Curgurr's sword sliced through the air and
into the midsection of the brute. He let out a scream that was almost a squeal,
his face locked in a look of sheer surprise as his two halves fell to the
ground. Cellina screamed and turned away. It was, without a doubt, the most
horrible thing she'd ever seen.
      The Orcs paused for a second to re-think their strategy. Usually, waving
their swords and acting tough was enough to make their victims wet their pants.
This pair not only wasn't giving in, they were willing to fight about it! Still,
when it came right down to it, they still outnumbered them by almost four to
one. They decided to press the attack, focusing on the tiger with the big sword.
      They spread out once again, pitting six Orcs against Curgurr and only a
single one against Cellina and the dogs. It seemed hopeless-even Curgurr
couldn't hope to win against six Orcs at once!
      Though she was still in shock from seeing the Orc get cleaved a moment
ago, Cellina forced herself back to reality. It would not help Curgurr if she
got captured or killed by this Orc. She thought fast and mouthed the words to
Burning Hands.
      She extended her hand, palm level with the ground, fingers outstretched.
Fire shot from the tips of her delicate hand, leaping out toward the Orc and
narrowly missing it. Though the brute was impressed, and a little frightened, he
was unharmed.
      He studied the situation for a moment: to her right was Ferr, who was
barking up a storm at this point but not really doing anything, and on her other
side was Thurrurr, who was not only barking but also nipping at his legs. He
finally came up with a plan that worked; he gave Thurrurr a swift kick to the
ribs, causing him to yelp and drop back a few steps, then swung his sword as
hard as he could at Cellina. She brought her staff up just in time to stop the
blow, but the force knocked her to the ground. The next thing she knew, the Orc
was overtop of her, raising his sword for a final blow.
      She turned her head and threw up her hands, blurting something out as
quickly as she could. Suddenly there was a bright flash of light, a surprised
grunt, and the smell of burnt flesh. She lowered her arms slowly, and saw the
Orc drop to its knees, a six-inch gapping hole burned through its skull. She
screamed as it slumped over to its side, quite dead.
      As she sat there, completely in shock, tears beginning to well up in her
eyes, she realized what had happened. She wanted to blurt out "please don't kill
me," but for some reason instead she had recited the words to Magic Missile. The
Orc never knew what hit him.
      Meanwhile, behind her back, Curgurr was managing to hold off the other
Orcs. Though the odds seemed good in theory, none of the Orcs were very eager to
test them out. They tried a few feints here and there, but made no real move.
The sudden death of their comrade by being shot through the head with a Magic
Missile had only made them more cautious.
      Suddenly, a shadowy figure flew by and landed just behind the Orcs. It was
about five feet in height, with a pair of large, leathery wings. Its eyes glowed
red in the darkness and it held a nasty-looking spear at the ready. The Orcs all
turned to look at the newcomer, allowing Curgurr to drive his sword down through
the skull of the nearest Orc, splitting his head like a melon. They now had to
re-assess the situation once again, and quickly decided they were more likely to
survive a battle with the strange shadow-creature than the tiger. The Orcs
divided their forces once more: two turned to the newcomer, leaving only three
to face Curgurr.
      Curgurr decided that now was the time to attack. He pointed his sword at
the Orc to his left and growled. "Thurrurr!" he yelled, then gave a low growl.
Immediately the dog leapt at the Orc, driving him back. Curgurr then lunged at
the one on his right and lopped off his head before he knew what had happened.
The one Orc that was left, the big one who had demanded they surrender only
minutes ago, tried to turn and run but Curgurr struck him down with lightning
speed. The warrior then surveyed the battlefield, relieved to discover that all
the Orcs were dead. The strange shadow was gone, leaving in its wake the impaled
bodies of the two Orcs. Thurrurr was clamped tightly on the throat of the other,
and the one who had managed to slip past him was dead, a large hole having been
burned in his brain.
      Cellina was sobbing uncontrollably now. He picked her up gently, setting
her down at the side of the road, away from the eight Orc carcasses that now
littered the clearing. She put her arms tightly around his neck, pressing close
to the warm fur of his unarmored face. He stroked her hair gently, with his
large, furry hand.
      "Shh, child," he soothed. "It's all right now."
      She didn't answer, simply held on with all her might. She could feel the
cold steel mail that covered his chest and arms pressing against her own chest.
She wished she was at home, in her clean room, sleeping soundly, instead of out
here in the dusty road, covered in dirt and mud and shaking like a leaf at the
sight of dead Orcs and blood. She could no longer smell them, the wind was
blowing the other way, but she knew they were there. The fact that one of the
bodies was of the Orc she killed served to make the experience all the more
real, all the more terrifying.
      In the distance, a shadowy figure watched. He saw the them sit there, the
young girl holding tightly to the strange cat that had saved her life. I have
seen these two before, he thought. In the palace of the Elf king. Unless I am
sorely mistaken, that is his daughter.
      He leaned forward slightly, careful not to give away his position in the
tree. I wonder what the girl is doing out here, he wondered. Something is very
wrong here. I shall have to keep an eye on these two...

                              ***

      The city of Dress was almost as large as their hometown of Kyress. It was
a lovely city, with a strange mixture of typical Elven architecture and human
buildings. A major port town, it was the best place for them to find passage to
another continent.
      Unfortunately, Dress was not a very peaceful city. The Humans who
frequented the town were viewed with suspicion, as were the many other
foreigners. Near the docks, brawls and duels were common. It was odd how the
architecture could mix so well, but the beings who created it could not.
      Cellina couldn't help but be a little frightened. She'd come to Dress many
times before, but she'd always stayed far from the crime-ridden harbor. Also,
she was not sure she was ready to face another scene like the one that had
unfolded in the clearing a few hours back.
      What worried her more, however, was that she was not sure she wasn't
ready, either. At the time it had seemed like a horrible thing to do, killing
that Orc, but now she found herself rationalizing it. He had tried to hurt her,
and she had stopped him the only way she could. It was that simple. It even made
her feel a bit powerful, being able to stand up for herself like that. She knew
soldiers sometimes grew to enjoy killing, but she never thought it could happen
to her. She thought back on what Curgurr had said as they left the palace that
morning: anyone can learn to do this.
      Curgurr led them to a small tavern deep in the Human district. Everywhere
she turned, the disgusting slobs were there-here Elves were the minority. Having
to mingle with this kind of riff-raff almost turned her stomach. As they reached
their destination, Curgurr tied the two dogs up outside and dropped off their
weapons, then led the way in.
      The tavern they had entered, the Dry Dock, was a filthy hole in the wall,
and looked like it should have been condemned years ago. The place smelled
strongly of ale, sweat, and blood, and a thick layer of smoke hung in the air,
making Cellina gag. There were no windows; the only light came from small
candles on the tables and bar. The patrons, which were packed in so tightly they
had to shove past them just to reach the bar, looked exactly as she would have
imagined them: fat, ugly sea dogs with thick, dirty beards and large, poorly
drawn tattoos all over their bodies. They were loud, obnoxious brutes, little
better than the Orcs from the road.
      Immediately upon their arrival, a number of jokes, none of which were fit
for decent society, came flying from all corners of the tavern. Cellina felt her
checks turn bright red at the numerous indecent suggestions. It was a terrible
place, and were it not for the fact that Curgurr was the only person in the city
she felt safe with she would have turned and ran out the door as quickly as
possible.
      At last, Curgurr muscled a place for them at the bar and she sat down on
an uncomfortable wooden stool. The bar was covered in spilt beer, nuts, and bits
of broken glass. She tried unsuccessfully to hide her disgust as she waited for
Curgurr to finish his business.
      "That's a nice pussy you've got there," one of the sailors said in
accented Common, smiling wickedly at the great cat as he moved in next to her.
She tried to ignore him, keeping her head down and wishing this nightmare was
over.
      "I say, that's a nice pussy you've got there," the man said again, leaning
over towards her. She pulled away from the smell of cheap ale that hung on his
breath. He smiled and put his arm around her. "Why don't we go out back for a
little bit and have some fun?" he asked, forcing his face even closer to hers.
      "Leave her alone," Curgurr growled.
      "Butt out," the sailor said. "This doesn't concern you."
      Curgurr grabbed him and lifted him off his feet. "I said, leave her
alone," he growled again, barring his large white teeth. The entire bar was at
once silenced, and a number of other sailors-nearly thirty-stood up from their
tables menacingly.
      Curgurr looked around, sizing up his opponents. It was doubtful he could
win a fight against so many, even if they weren't armed. The sailor in his hands
grinned. "You want to fight, tough guy?" he mocked.
      Cellina looked around in horror. The bartender was still serving drinks,
unconcerned about what was going on. It looked as though no one was going to
help. She wanted to do something, but there was nothing she could do against so
many Humans.
      Suddenly, a man in the very back of the bar stood up. "Put him down," he
said calmly. He was dressed from head to toe in black-black boots, black
breeches, black coat, black cloak, and a black hat; a black scarf hid most of
his face from view. He was completely emotionless as he stood there and waited.
Curgurr set the sailor down slowly.
      The man nodded to the sailor. "Buy him a drink," he demanded. The thug
nodded his head enthusiastically and began to dig into his pouch for the money.
      "Keep your money," Curgurr growled. The sailor looked at the man in black,
who nodded. The thug then moved to another part of the bar, and things returned
to normal.
      The man in black came up to the two of them. "Not very common to find
someone in a bar who doesn't drink," the figure said. His eyes were cold and
gray, expressionless, but held the hint of danger.
      "I'm looking for a ship," Curgurr growled over the din of the tavern.
      "Maybe I can help you," the stranger said. "I have a friend who owns a
ship. Where are you headed?"
      "No where in particular," Curgurr responded.
      "Good. That's where he's headed. The price is three hundred apiece."
Cellina was appalled. She knew passage was much cheaper than that. She waited
for Curgurr to try and haggle with the man.
      "Agreed," Curgurr said.
      "We leave at dawn from pier seven," the man said. "The Flying Tiger." With
that, he turned and walked away.
      "Come," Curgurr said, and Cellina gladly hopped off her stool and followed
him out.
      "Why did you give in so quickly?" Cellina asked as Curgurr retrieved his
weapons from the bouncer outside the door.
      "It was two hundred less than what I expected to pay," he explained. "We
must take what we can get. There are not many ships that will take on passengers
in this port."
      She hadn't thought of that. Very few Elves ever left for the outside
world. It made sense that the cost of passage would be greater. Still...three
hundred? It was highway robbery! She shook her head, grabbed her staff, and
waited for Curgurr to untie the dogs.

                              ***

      Morning found them once again at the docks. Cellina hoped this would be
the last time she had to visit a place like this, but she knew that was
unlikely. At the very least, she'd have to get off the boat eventually, and it
was not very likely that the port the were heading for was much more civilized
than this one. She shuddered to think of spending the next several years
mingling with these Human barbarians.
      The Flying Tiger, at least, was a decent-looking ship. It was a fairly
large caravel, almost ninety feet in length, clearly designed for long ocean
voyages. It was not the largest ship in the bay, but it was close. At least it
seemed they would be travelling in a little bit of style.
      The man in black was waiting for them at the dock. He offered them no
greeting, simply asked for their money and then led them on board. The crew was
busy preparing to set sail, so the lower decks were all but deserted.
      The cabin they were shown to was not what Cellina had expected. It was
tiny, barely large enough for a single person, with a small chest in the corner
and a hammock slung from the ceiling. Other than that, the room was bare.
      "Don't they have anything larger?" Cellina asked as she looked for a place
to set her staff so that it wouldn't fall over with the gentle rocking of the
ship.
      "This is a simple merchant ship," Curgurr explained, placing his weapons
on the floor behind the trunk. "We are lucky they have a spare cabin at all."
      "For three hundred apiece, I expect a little more than this," she
muttered.
      They finished stowing their gear, then made their way topside. A fair
breeze was already blowing, and the sails flapped in the wind, waiting for a
chance to be unfurled. The mysterious man in black was there, talking to a
middle-aged man at the helm that was most likely his friend the captain. Cellina
found herself wondering exactly what the strange figure did on the ship. So far,
she hadn't seen him lift a finger to do anything.
      She made her way to the rail at the side of the deck and leaned forward,
feeling the breeze blow softly against her cheek. Thurrurr and Ferr followed,
jumping up to lean over the railing as well. They wagged their tails excitedly,
obviously pleased to be going on a boat ride.
      Suddenly Ferr began to bark. Cellina followed his gaze to a large, ugly
man who was running up to their dock. He was about six feet tall and extremely
muscular, more so than any man Cellina had ever seen. He had a large, bulbous
nose, a thick, heavy brow, and short, straight brown hair. His clothing looked
as though he had sewn it himself, and he carried a huge sword slung on his back.
He was waving franticly to her, as if she was an old friend.
      "Hey!" he yelled in a deep base voice. "Don't leave yet! I need to come
aboard!"
      The gangplank had, by this time, been drawn aboard, and the captain was
already giving the order to shove off. Cellina shrugged her shoulders at him,
then turned to go to the other side of the boat.
      "Hey! Wait! I can pay you a fortune! Stop!"
      The stranger's cries attracted the attention of the man in black. He
strolled over to Cellina, then looked down at the man.
      "You're too late," he said as the ship began to pull away from the dock.
      "I'll give you ten thousand in gold to let me come aboard!"
      Cellina was astonished. For that price, he could buy a ship and hire
himself a crew to sail it. He must truly be desperate, she thought.
      The man in black held up his hand to the captain, who immediately began
shouting orders to the crew. They scuttled about in a frenzy, raising the sails
and lowering the anchor once more. At last, the ship was pulled to a stop, and
the gangplank was lowered again. The man in black had a brief conversation with
the gentleman, after which he seemed to agree to let the man come aboard.
      "I wonder what that was about," Cellina asked Curgurr as the crew began to
set sail again.
      "I suspect it has something to do with those gentlemen," Curgurr said,
pointing to a group of six city guards who came running into view. As soon as
they saw the Tiger, they ran up alongside it in a futile attempt to stop the
ship. As they left the dock, Cellina heard the guards shouting something about
harboring felons.
      She was taken aback by this. "Doesn't the captain know that man's a
criminal?" she asked.
      "I doubt that he cares," Curgurr replied. "There are few merchants who
will deny anyone passage for that much money."
      "Is money all that they care about?"
      The great cat bent down to scratch Ferr behind the ears. "For the most
part, yes."
      "It's not right," Cellina said.
      "It is the way things are," Curgurr replied. "Money is a powerful force in
this world."
      Cellina looked back at the city as it slowly drifted away. This ship,
these people-it was all a strange world to her. She wondered how it could have
existed right under her nose for so long without her realizing it. She also
wondered how much else she would discover about life before she returned home.
The realization of how sheltered she must have been to the outside world slowly
dawned on her. She didn't like it.

                              ***

      That night, while Curgurr and the dogs slept soundly on the floor, Cellina
crept quietly out of the cabin and made her way topside. The night was cool and
clear, and an infinite sea of stars glittered in the sky. She leaned over the
railing, staring down into the black waves beneath her. The only sound was the
flapping of the sail and the low splashing of the waves against their hull. The
ship rocked gently to and fro, rising and falling with each wave as if it were a
part of the sea itself. It was the most soothing thing she'd experienced since
she left her home two nights ago.
      She stood there for a long time, just listening to the waves and thinking.
She was so lost in her own mind that she didn't even hear him approach.
      "Lovely night, isn't it, princess?"
      She jumped at the sound of his deep, muffled voice. She turned her head to
find the man in black standing right behind her, staring out to sea, arms held
behind his back in a stiff, military manner.
      "You startled me," she said, somewhat annoyed at the sudden interruption.
"And don't call me princess. My name is Cellina."
      "But that's what you are, isn't it? A princess?" He was looking at her
now, searching her face with those cold, gray eyes. She felt her cheeks begin to
redden.
      "I-don't know what you're talking about," she said, turning away from his
penetrating gaze. She knew it was pointless, however-he'd read it all in that
one instant. He knew exactly who she was.
      "You hide it quite well," he said, turning his cold eyes back to the
unforgiving sea. "The others have no idea, of course. But I recognized you the
moment I first laid eyes on you."
      She remained silent, refusing to acknowledge a word of what he said. She
locked her eyes on the horizon, determined not to let on that what he said was
true. "We have met before," he continued, needing no signal from her to know
what he said was true. "I was much younger, of course. But I remember you quite
clearly.
      "It was the festival of lights in Kyress. I had a few hours to kill, and I
decided to go to the parade. I remember looking inside your father's carriage
and seeing you.
      "You were angry at him for something. As you passed by me, you flung the
door open and jumped out. You tried to run away into the crowd, but your father
came after you. I remember you put on quite a show for the people. He grabbed
your arm, tried to drag you back into the carriage-he wasn't about to let you
ruin the parade, he said-and you struggled, but he was just too strong. And
then, you turned to the crowd and begged them to help you. I remember you looked
right at me, right into my face, and I remember the tears rolling down your
cheek... and I remember feeling quite sorry for you, and wanting to help,
but..." he trailed off, lost in the memory.
      Cellina remembered that day all too well. It was the day her father had
demanded that she begin to learn magic. She'd thought it was the end of the
world-the last thing she wanted to do with her life was to spend it pouring over
books of ancient languages and forgotten secrets. She was a princess, after all;
why did she have to do anything she didn't want to?
      He father, of course, insisted. When it was obvious that he wasn't going
to give in, she tried to run away. Of course, running away into a parade crowd
is not very easy, and her father had come storming after her. He dragged her
forcibly back into the carriage, locked the door, and drawn the curtains. She
was terribly embarrassed now to remember how she'd acted. The worst part was,
after she began taking lessons, she found she liked learning about the Lost
Arts. She hung her head, trying to forget that horrible day. She fought back
tears, not wishing to cry in front of this man-she'd been embarrassed by him
enough.
      "It was your eyes that gave you away," he continued after a few moments of
uneasy silence. "I could never forget how you looked that day. Many's the night
I've woken up to find that image of you pleading-begging me to help you burned
into my mind. I've often wondered what became of you. I guess you finally did
manage to run away, eh?"
      She wanted to tell him the truth, wanted to explain how her father had
sent her away, how she'd been heartbroken, how she'd had to sneak away in the
middle of the night. She wanted to tell him about the Orcs, and how she'd killed
one, and about the bloody, lifeless corpses they'd left behind, but she
couldn't. All she managed to say was, "Please...please go away."
      "As you wish." He turned and walked back towards the helm. "You don't have
to worry, princess. Your secret's safe with me."
      She waited until he was out of earshot, then began to cry softly. She
cried for the memories of the bad times, for the memories of the good times she
would never have again; but mostly, she cried because she was all alone in a
large and scary world. And she would be alone for some time.

                              ***

      "Thief!"
      Curgurr growled, barely able to restrain himself. Captain Sarris met his
gaze evenly, his own rage enough to drive away his fear.
      "I won't have anyone stealing the ship's stores on my boat!"
      Cellina grabbed Curgurr's arm as he drew it back to smite the Human. "He
didn't steal anything!" Cellina insisted, glaring at Sarris. "Why don't you
leave him alone!"
      "It's not enough that he has to eat me out of house and home," the captain
growled, "he has to steal more food when I'm not looking! I'm putting you both
off as soon as we reach Misk."
      Cellina shuddered at the thought of being stranded on that dragon's nest.
"It wasn't him!" she protested.
      "Then who was it?" Sarris demanded, throwing his arms out wide. "One of my
crew, perhaps?"
      "What about Botaro?" She was fairly certain the muscle-bound felon was
innocent, but she was desperate.
      "Botaro is so ill he can barely eat the rations we give him," Sarris
replied with a laugh. "He could never manage to stomach this much food." He
motioned to the numerous empty barrels the crew had placed on the deck.
      "Maybe your ship has rats," Cellina yelled, her anger beginning to get the
best of her.
      "Rats?! Rats?!! I'll put the two of you off right here!" Now she'd done
it. She'd managed to insult him, and it would take a lot of convincing to get
him to forgive her for that. The best she could hope for now was to be stranded
on Misk for a few decades.
      In the week they had been sailing, Captain Sarris had become acutely aware
of Curgurr's rather large appetite. Cellina had heard rumors that he was worried
they might not have enough food to reach Hammare, their destination. Finding
five empty barrels of food belowdecks had pushed him to the breaking point.
      Cellina squeezed Curgurr's hand, bracing herself for another verbal
bashing by the angry captain. However, Curgurr didn't respond; he was just
standing there, head tilted slightly, sniffing.
      "Give me one good reason-"
      "Silence!" Curgurr demanded. His ears were pricked now, and he sniffed the
air carefully, trying to sift out the salt of the sea and the scent of the crew.
      "I'm the only one who gives orders on this ship!" Sarris yelled back.
Suddenly Curgurr gave a low growl and bent down low, as if he was about to
pounce. Sarris jumped back in surprise as two of the larger sailors moved
forward to protect their captain. Thurrurr and Ferr, who had been surprisingly
silent during the verbal exchange, now began barking excitedly, and the sailor
who was holding their leashes had to brace himself lest he be pulled away as the
dogs strained against the restraints.
      Curgurr turned and leapt to his left in one fluid motion, catapulting
himself towards the open doorway leading belowdecks. The two sailors rushed
forward, but he was through the door before they had taken their first step.
Cellina stared in shock at the place where Curgurr had been only moments ago.
      "He's making a run for it!" someone yelled as the two burly sailors began
descending the stairs after him. Before the second one could reach the bottom,
however, there was a loud bang, then confused mumbling from the two sailors, and
finally a large, gray creature was flung onto the deck.
      It was a strange thing, with long red hair and a thin build. Two large,
leathery wings protruded from its back. The creature shook itself and tried to
stand, shielding its eyes from the bright sun. It was clothing appeared to be of
Elven make, though a bit rough, and it had the same finely-chiseled features.
Like an Elf, it had a pair of large, pointed ears, and a thin, hawkelike nose.
However, the thing also had a set of needle-sharp teeth and red eyes that almost
glowed.
      Cellina had heard legends about the Forest Guardians, but she'd never seen
one. Still, that had to be what this creature was; it was exactly as she'd
imagined they would look. It picked itself off the deck with a grace and dignity
few creatures could have mustered. As it stretched its wings, grateful to be
free of the confinement of lower decks regardless of the circumstances, Cellina
whispered the Elven name for the creature.
      "Daqueen."
      The Daqueen looked about him carefully, trying to avoid the bright sun as
much as possible. It quickly took stock of its situation and realized that it
stood no chance against so many. Curgurr and the sailors returned to deck,
taking their respective places around the creature. Stunned silence reigned
supreme; a curious whine from Ferr was the only sound to be heard over the
sloshing of the sea.
      "Greetings," the thing said to Cellina at last. It spoke perfect Elven,
even managing to get the accent right.
      "Greetings," Cellina replied awkwardly. To the Elves, the Daqueen were
heroes. Though they were rarely seen, the creatures were given more respect than
even the king himself. They almost worshipped the things as Gods. To be able to
talk to one was a honor only a handful of Elves had ever experienced.
      "I...suppose I owe you an apology," Sarris said to Curgurr. "It seems we
have a stowaway on board."
      Cellina turned at the word stowaway. She didn't know what Sarris did to
stowaways, but it was probably not pleasant. "I'm sure he meant no harm,"
Cellina said, trying to think of a convincing argument. If the Daqueen got hurt,
she would never be able to forgive herself.
      "You're defending him now?" Sarris couldn't believe his ears. "What is it
with you Elven women? Do you love to argue, or what?"
      Cellina ignored the insult, turning to the Daqueen once more. "Why did you
sneak aboard?" she asked in Elven.
      "To follow you," he replied flatly. "My name is Attakqua."
      "Can somebody tell me what these two are saying?" Sarris asked, annoyed.
      The man in black spoke up for the first time. "He says his name is
Attakqua. He's following those two."
      "Why the hell would he want to do that?" Sarris had a very low opinion of
all three of his passengers, but at least the muscle-bound one kept belowdecks.
These two were driving him up the wall.
      Cellina began to relay the message, but she drifted off when she noticed
that Curgurr was once again listening intently to something she could not hear.
The dogs noticed it too, and began barking loudly and trying to run over to the
railing. Soon, everyone was looking around for the source of the disturbance.
      "Does anyone care to tell me what I'm looking for?" Sarris asked as he
leaned as far over the railing as he dared. There was nothing but sea beneath
him.
      The dogs were utterly confused. They knew something was there, but they
couldn't find it. Curgurr was still standing perfectly still, pricking his ears
carefully. At last, he gave up, and simply growled. "I suggest you have your men
arm themselves," he warned.
      "Is the ocean going to attack us?" Sarris asked sarcastically, but Curgurr
was already on his way back to the cabin to retrieve his weapons. "Why do I even
bother?" the Captain muttered.
      "I don't like this," Cellina said, shivering as a cold wind blew over the
ship. The moments ticked by as the tension on the ship continued to mount.
Cellina wished whatever was out there would just hurry up and attack-at least
the horrible waiting would be over!
      Finally, the breeze warmed considerably. She began to relax, thinking
perhaps the thing had gone. Soon, however, she realized that the breeze was not
just warm, it was hot-uncomfortably hot-and had a strong fishy odor. She could
feel it stinging the back of her neck as the low hissing sound it made began to
grow louder.
      Wait a minute. Something's not right here, she thought. In a second she
realized what it was-the sails were still billowed outward, as if the breeze
that pushed them came from the north. She was facing north, however, so the
breeze on her back was coming from the south. She turned around slowly as a
feeling of dread came over her.
      Behind her, rising slowly over the rails of the ship, was a giant serpent
head. It was over ten feet in length, light gray in color, with a wide mouth
filled with countless rows of needle-sharp, dagger-length teeth. Its scales
listened in the sun, and it dripped great drops of seawater onto the deck. It
moved forward slowly, so very slowly, until it was an arm's length from
Cellina's face. She stood there, entranced; she wanted to scream, to run, to
fight-anything-but she was rooted in place, frozen with fear.
      It wasn't until she heard Curgurr's steps as he climbed the stairs up to
the deck that she regained the use of her voice. She screamed as loud as she
could, instantly attracting the attention of the assembled crew. The serpent
opened its mouth wide, as if to swallow her, but she had spent all her energy in
the scream. Curgurr called to her, but it was as if he was a thousand miles
away. She closed her eyes, unable to watch as the beast finished her off.
      The creature suddenly let out an ear-splitting shriek, breaking the
strange hold it had over her. She gasped, realizing with little surprise that
she had been holding her breath in anticipation. Her eyes opened cautiously to a
strange sight. A dagger was now embedded deep in the monster's left eye. It
thrashed about in pain, rocking the ship and sending two crewmen and the five
empty barrels overboard. Cellina tried to keep her footing, but there was
nothing left to stand on. She slid towards the railing on the other side of the
ship, and would certainly have fallen off had Attakqua not grabbed her arm as
she flew past him. The deck continued to heave to and fro, and to avoid falling
off himself he spread his wings and took off, carrying Cellina in his arms. She
watched in horror as the ship rocked violently beneath her like a toy. The crew
of the Flying Tiger was completely helpless. Captain Sarris was hanging onto the
railing for dear life; the man in black was no better off. Curgurr was in no
danger of falling, for he had dug his claws deep into the deck of the ship, but
he could not move.
      The ship continued its terrible dance, and Cellina could do nothing but
watch and pray. The serpent had managed to fling the dagger from its eye in its
wild thrashing, but the eye was still bleeding badly. The creature screamed and
moaned in pain, horrible sounds that sent shivers down Cellina's spine.
      It seemed like an eternity before the ship settled down enough that they
could at last land. The dazed crew began to pick themselves up off the deck as
the serpent began to slip slowly beneath the waves once more. She breathed a
sigh of relief. It was over.
      There was a crash from belowdecks as Botaro stumbled into the doorway.
"What in hell is going on up there?" he demanded, hauling himself and his large
sword onto the deck.
      Curgurr gazed out to sea. "You're about to find out," he growled as he
turned and ran to the nearest railing, gripping it and his sword as tightly as
he could.
      Cellina followed his gaze. The serpent had not given up; far from it, the
thing had simply backed off so it could ram them. It was plowing its way through
the water even now, sending up a gigantic spray in its wake.
      "Oh, shit," Sarris groaned, and hugged the railing once again. At his
side, Thurrurr and Ferr yelped and raced to the stairwell, disappearing
belowdecks.
      "What the hell is that?!" Botaro managed before the thing smashed into the
Tiger. One of the masts cracked and threatened to break off completely, and the
hull amidships groaned loudly. Cellina was knocked off her feet by the force of
the blow. As she picked herself up, she saw the serpent spinning around the
ship, mouth open menacingly in a strange dance. It took her a second to realize
it was the ship, and not the serpent, that was spinning out of control.
      The serpent wasted no time in snatching up one of the sailors. It had
found their weak point, and it was determined to exploit it. Just as the ship
calmed once more, it raised its serpentine tail to deliver another powerful
blow.
      "That thing's gonna tear this ship apart!" Sarris yelled from his railing.
      "There appears to be little we can do about it," the man in black observed
grimly.
      "Where the hell is my sword?" Botaro asked desperately as the tail sailed
through the air. "If I lost that sword, that thing's going to pay."
      That seems unlikely, Cellina thought as she ran to the railing. She didn't
have enough time, but she had to try and brace herself.
      She was surprised that, once more, the beast cried out in pain. She turned
her head to see Attakqua bravely flying around the creature's head, with
Botaro's massive sword in hand. The tail that had almost smashed them now had a
deep gash in it, and it streamed blood. The thing snapped at the Daqueen, who
nimbly dodged. With one fluid movement, he thrust the sword up through the
serpent's jaw and into its brain. It convulsed for several moments, blood
gushing from its many wounds, then began to fall.
      "That's showin' it!" Botaro cheered, though he looked a bit pale. His joy
quickly turned to terror, however, as he realized the thing was falling onto the
ship.
      There was yet another crash as the thing's head and neck slammed onto the
deck of the Tiger. The mizzenmast snapped off, and the ship began to bend in an
unhealthy manner in the middle. The entire crew was deathly silent as they
waited. The ship creaked and groaned, and there was another snap as one of the
support beams beneath the deck buckled. After another few minutes of silence,
the crew began to cheer. The deck would hold.
      "Your sword, sir," Attaqua said in perfect common, removing the blade from
the creature's carcass and handing it to Botaro.
      "Wait a minute! You understand common?" Sarris yelled, marching over to
the winged warrior.
      "Of course. I am fluent in several trade languages."
      "Well why the hell didn't you tell me that in the first place!"
      "You didn't ask."
      Sarris looked like he was about to strangle the Daqueen. "I may have to
kill you," he said with a calmness he did not show.
      "Wait a minute," Botaro interrupted. "This guy just saved our skin."
      Sarris turned to the muscular recluse. "I thought you were seasick," he
said, glaring.
      "Not exactly," Botaro admitted. "But...well..." He leaned over to the
captain's ear. "Large open spaces make me...nervous."
      Sarris burst out laughing.
      "It's not funny," Botaro insisted.
      Sarris only laughed harder.
      "What did he say?" Cellina asked. "What's so funny?"
      Curgurr made a sound that was half-growl, half chuckle-his approximation
of a giggle. "He is afraid of open spaces."
      Cellina began laughing as well, along with most of the crew. "Afraid of
open spaces? What's so scary about open spaces?"
      Botaro's already tan face turned bright red. "I thought we were talking
about the bat," he said indignantly.
      Sarris managed to compose himself. He turned to Attaqua and opened his
mouth to speak, but he broke out laughing again instead.
      "Oh, shut up," Botaro muttered as he turned and walked away.
      It took several minutes for the crew to recover. At last, everyone was
able to stop laughing, though it took a great deal of effort. Sarris turned once
more to the Daqueen.
      "Alright," he said. "You stowed away on my ship, stole my food, and made
me look like an ass. But you did save our necks out there. You can stay aboard
until we drop these two jokers off," he said, motioning with his thumb in the
direction of Cellina and Curgurr.
      Attakqua bowed. "Thank you."
      "Besides, I think you solved our food problem anyway," Sarris continued,
nudging the serpent's head with his boot. "Somebody get the cook up here and
tell him to get this sushi in the hold."
      "There is one thing I still would like to know," Cellina asked the man in
black as the crew began to disperse and assess the damage. "Who threw the knife
into the serpent's eye?"
      "I did."
      She stared up at him in surprise. "You?"
      "I had the feeling you were somewhat averse to being eaten," he replied.
      "I don't know what to say," she said truthfully. No one had ever saved her
life before except Curgurr, and that was his job. This act of kindness from a
Human commoner was something she would never have expected.
      "You do not need to say anything."
      "Well, I should at least thank you," she said.
      "I did not do it for thanks," he told her.
      "That doesn't matter," she insisted. "You deserve it. Mr.-" she stopped
dead in her tracks, realizing that for the past week she'd been calling him the
man in black. "What is your name, anyway?"
      "Amak," he said.
      "Thank you, Amak. For everything."
      "It was my pleasure," he replied. "Now I'm afraid I must take my leave of
you. I suspect the crew will need all the help it can get with the masts." With
that, he turned and walked away.
      "A strange man, that one," Curgurr muttered as he came up behind her.
      "Curgurr!" She said, startled. "How long have you been there?"
      He grunted. "Long enough. Come. I must see to the dogs."
      "Actually, I think they might need my help with the masts, too," she said,
watching Amak make his way over to the growing crowd milling about the fallen
mizzenmast.
      Curgurr looked at her in surprise for a moment, then grunted again. "As
you wish."
      He watched her run over to the tall Human. How odd, he thought. Until
today, I have never seen her volunteer for any kind of labor whatsoever. He
shook his head and began to make his way towards the dark passage leading to the
lower decks.
      "Perhaps this trip is not such a foolish idea, after all."

The Beginning...

NEXT TIME:
      Our heroes are attacked by a pirate ship off the coast of Hammare! Forced
to fight in the Wolfen arena, Cellina has to learn to fight for herself-or die!
Join her and Curgurr, Amak, Attakqua, and Botaro for the second chapter in the
lives of our heroes:
      THE KARION CHRONICLES: WOLFSBANE

ALSO:
      It is a dark time...and the Gods of Karion are going to war! It's up to
six brave heroes to save the world from destruction. But can they do it in time?
Who-or what-are Sleepers? And  what are the strange cults known as The Circle
and The Dark up to, anyway? All these questions will be answered in
      KARION: THE GOD'S WAR SAGA