A chill wind blew in from the west, gently swaying the high grass bordering the grain fields of Sarion's farm. Arms folded across his solid chest, Sarion stared past his own lands, pondering the black rumors circulating the countryside. Stories of outlying homes being broken into, the families taken away in the night. The destruction of property, the loss of cattle. Peddlers traveling along the dusky roads spoke in low tones about the unrest, an increasing number of them staying away from outlying areas as they made their way to the more secure larger towns and villages of the central kingdom. Many tales, all of them troublesome.

A dark cloud hovered ominously over the collective conscience of the durable men and women who lived in this region, and Sarion felt it as well, creeping slowly over his own heart and mind, a growing menace, a warning of ill times to come. Something evil was encroaching on the borders of his homelands, the kingdom of Trencit. Sarion lived at the westernmost fringe of the domain, close to forsaken lands ruled by dangerous and malevolent creatures. And now a nameless entity was terrorizing the peaceful frontiersmen, plaguing their nightmares and threatening all who dwelt nearby.

He stooped down, grabbing a huge bale of hay, his brown, shoulder-length hair catching some of the individual straws. It smelled fresh and pleasant to him, a mundane aroma of peace and order. The cooler season was not too far distant, and this was a busy time of year for the household.

"Uncle Sarion, a group of horsemen approach."

He turned around as his young nephew Edward came towards him, the boy's cheerful face thoughtful as he pointed down the dirt lane leading to the farmhouse. Dust rose in trailing clumps as the party made their way steadily towards them.

"Yes--and they're warriors, I see. Thirteen strong." Sarion replied, a note of surprise evident in his clear voice, as he held a hand over his keen blue eyes, blocking out the late afternoon sun.

"How can you tell from here?" asked Edward. He lifted his curly blond head up excitedly. There were few armed companies in the region as they were seldom required, except as routine patrols. The king's royal armies were needed in the east, where a war was being fought against their enemies, the Devlents.

"Hmm, perhaps they were sent to investigate the raiding. It's probably not large enough to be part of a major division."

The group approached at a modest gait, and Sarion waved a hand in recognition. The men were dressed in with a minimum of armor, looking more prepared for quickness and stealth, the common attire for a small scouting party. The horses were tall and broad, bred and raised in service of the kingdom's fighting force. Coming forward was a lightly bearded man of brown hair with a hawkish face wearing a helm of steel, a crimson eagle on his breast. Sarion knew it to be the symbol of a captain in the Trencit Home Guard. He raised his eyebrows in response, genuine surprise on the handsome face. It was unheard of to see one of the king's own elite commanders outside of the eastern provinces, their numbers being very few. Unusual indeed...

"Well met, my good captain. It is not too often we see any of His Majesty's finest in our lands. What brings you so far from the capital?"

The man signaled for his squadron to halt, expertly reigning in his own steed, steel glinting in the fading sunlight.

"Greetings also. You're obviously familiar with royal insignia. I'm Captain Grundel, leader of this company and an officer of the Trencit Home Guard."

Sarion made a short bow. "My name is Sarion, and this is my nephew Edward. You and your men are welcome, and at my service. Whatever supplies or information I have is at your immediate disposal."

A sharp look passed Grundel's weathered face, quickly disappearing. "Our thanks to you."

"Could I ask what it is you seek? The sight of your group is encouraging, and I'm sure you are well aware of the recent events. The people of the countryside have appealed directly to the king. There is a nameless force which threatens the region."

Grundel dismounted from his great steed, a black mare that frisked with scarce contained energy.

"And that is exactly why we are here. To offer aid and to find answers. My assignment is to seek out the source of danger, eliminating whatever is preying upon our people."

Sarion nodded. "The popular belief is obvious, of course. Something has crept in from the wilderness, and is terrorizing the countryside. But this isn't the work of bandits, or common men at all. No, my belief is that it hails from the Grammore Lowlands."

"And if that is where our mission takes us, then it will find us ready and determined." Grundel's eyes were quietly intense.

Sarion frowned. "Is there a larger group being dispatched?"

The captain shook his head.

"Surely you don't mean to go yourselves?" Sarion did not attempt to mask his pessimism.

"I think our farmer here knows little of the king's guard." A huge man on an enormous horse trotted up. He looked oversized, even for the magnificent steed. A thick red beard covered half his face, and he jumped off his mount. "I hope that you do not question the prowess of our company." It was a statement, and the man loomed before him in an obvious pose of intimidation.

"This is Rundin, my second," said Grundel, who made no offer to appease the anger of his fighter.

But Sarion was undaunted. "I question no one's ability. You do not know the dangers that lurk beyond these borders, unless you were born a frontiersman. Little knowledge reaches the king's city, or those who fight in the east."

Rundin towered over Sarion, who was over six feet tall himself. The man had the visage of an awakened bear, eager to confront anything that threatened. He licked his lips, scowling.

"And there are many who are so far removed from battle that they forget the valor of the men keeping the peace." Rundin tapped his chest.

Sarion shook his head in defiance. "Some, perhaps. Maybe many. But not all. Sacrifice comes in a variety of forms. The touch of loss plays no favorite tune." A dark look crossed Sarion's face, and Grundel nodded to himself in approval, the sea-ice eyes narrowing a hair.

"Rundin, you shouldn't be so quick to judgment--or anger. This man speaks much truth. And, he is not what he appears to be..."

Edward stared at his uncle, innocence reflected on the ten year old's face.

The captain continued. "It is not by accident that we came to this farm. And this is no ordinary farmer standing before us."

Rundin looked questioningly at Sarion.

"I seek out someone who served in the Western Watch, now seven years past. This man was the greatest tracker and swordsman on the frontier."

Rundin's mouth opened, realization dawning on him.

Grundel continued. "A captain in his own right, he once led a company into the wilderness, fighting back a band of marauding Glefins. Fifty men were sent. Out of that sizable force, only three returned, one of them lost to his own mind, the other gravely wounded, passing away shortly after entering our lands. The third man stands before us--Sarion, who slew the Glefin leader himself."

Sarion's eyes grew dark with the memories. "You awaken black thoughts, captain. Ones I would rather keep forever from the light of day."

Grundel sighed deeply. "The need of our kingdom outweighs many reprieves, I'm afraid. For it is you who I have searched out for help."

Gesturing with his arm, Sarion pointed towards the west. "Death and madness. This is what waits beyond the hills." He paused. "My experience I will gladly lend, however terrible. Although I am one of the only men to have traveled within the Lowlands, I can't guess at the source of trouble myself. But I'll provide whatever information which still remains of that disastrous journey."

The captain lowered his voice. "You misunderstand my intentions. We need someone to lead us into the wild, and help to determine the source of unrest. You have been there before, and your skills are required once more, although you would wish it otherwise."

Sarion stiffened, feeling Edward's eyes boring into his face. Was this the shadow which he had felt clutching at his heart recently? Now come to reality? He stared across the gentle fields, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding at Grundel's words.

"You ask much, captain. There are nightmares beyond description past our safe lands. And now you want me to leave my farm and nephew behind?" The two locked gazes.

Grundel nodded in sympathy. "The war demands the bulk of our men. There are few left to spare. We must be enough. If the danger grows larger, then the king needs to gain knowledge of what it is which menaces his people. Failure is unthinkable. Things are grim now. But it may only be the start of worse to come."

Sarion gripped Edward's shoulder, a frown of disapproval on his youthful face.

"Help see to the men's comfort. We'll put them up in the barn, if that's all right with the captain." He turned towards Grundel as the boy hurried away. "My hope is for the lad to have a better future for himself, along with all the youth of our kingdom. Too many have died sharing that same dream. Brave fighters, my countrymen and kin."

Grundel replied, his voice low. "And many more await their own grave as evil grows stronger. Come, I am sorry to have brought this upon you, but the need is great. We're all tired, and the end of our path is nowhere in sight. A warm bed beneath even a barn is a comfort to weary fighters in the field. You know this too."

"Perhaps a glass of ale can bring a good night's rest to your men. And you're right, but it's been a long time since I've slept under the trees and stars. Such service to the kingdom allows for little relief. You deserve better."

Rundin snorted as Sarion led them away. "We all might be dreaming and remembering your pleasant farm here in the weeks to come."