Chapter 2

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Green eyes unsealed to witness the morning sun peak over Valahelm.  Lir had already awoken before the dawn and was in the process of roasting elk hunch for breakfast.  The smell lingering around the camp caused Valder to rise from his bedroll.  The early light reflecting off the snow was blinding to the eye and Valder shielded his face as he sat up.  When his sight had returned it focused to the south.  Valder spotted a strange crow perched on a low tree limb.  It stared blankly at the hunters with reflecting eyes.  The bird squawked and shifted its head at him.  With a feeling of discomfort rising, Valder plucked up the nearest rock. He slung the stone, sending it towards the bird's direction.  The spooked crow flapped its wings with a call of distress and with a straight flight disappeared into the coverage of the trees.                                                                                                           ​"Is something wrong?"  Lir asked, observing Valder's strange behavior.                                                                        ​Valder made sure the bird was out of sight before speaking.  "It's nothing."                                                                                    ​Lir shrugged off Valder's discomfort and continued to rotate the slab of meat.  Suddenly, a disturbance tore through the trees.  Lir sprung to his toes, hearing large dogs barking in the distance.  The sound of heavy feet marching would soon follow.                                                                                                                      ​"Get up Valder.  Now!"  Lir's senses had finally caught up with Valder's and instinct had taken over.  This army patrolling wasn't his own men. Invaders had come to Valahelm!                                                                                                                            ​Valder claimed his bow and joined his father's side.  "Is it our people, maybe from the north?"                                                                                                                                                 ​"No, I would have received some warning if anyone patrolled down here.  You must go my son and warn the people of Frostmist!"                                                                                         ​"I'm not leaving you here."   Valder disagreed.                                                                              ​"Damnit Valder, this isn't the time to argue.  I'll be fine!"  Lir shoved his son from a sloped hillside.  Valder tumbled to a soft layer of snow below while a parade of knights filled the ridge above.  Lir guarded the camp and made no sudden moves while the war party assembled.  Amongst the rabid dogs and heavily armored warriors was a figure in gray robes.  Lir automatically assumed he was the leader of this expedition.  Glued to the stranger's shoulder was the same crow Valder had scared away.  Due to the gray hood, not many details could be noted about this strange figure, expect for a pair of chapped lips and a black twisted beard.                                                           ​Lir than observed the soldiers and by their ebony armor knew they were of Airusian decent.  On their helmets chain mail dangled to protect the back of the necks but their faces remained uncovered.  Lir was quick to notice their lifeless expressions and soulless eyes.  What had happened to them?  Lir thought.                                                                                                                               ​To maintain the peace, Lir insisted on bartering with them.  "Is it meat you want?  Go ahead and take it.  Take it all and leave!"                                                                                                                                   ​The cloaked man moved like a snake until suddenly he stalled to stare blankly at the second bedroll.  "Where's the other?"  He asked.                                                                                    ​"The other?  There is no other!  I hunted this game on my own."  Lir answered.                                                                             ​"Then what is with the second bedroll?!"  The stranger navigated towards his followers and with a whisper gave a demand. "Search the area."  The knights scattered amongst the camp.                                                                                                               ​"What does it matter?  I appointed someone to watch my camp and they had left before the sunrise."  Lir lied.                                                                                                                       ​A smaller group of corrupted knights inched closer and Lir claimed the axes from his belt.  Valder remained still, pressing tightly against a groove in the hillside.  He could overhear the conversation escalating and by the aggressive tone expected trouble to arise at any moment.  Valder thought quickly, he needed to create some sort of distraction.  He released a deep breath and his light feet darted over the snow. This plan had worked and the knights spotted Valder escaping to the trees.  The dogs thrashed on their chains while the hooded man approached, snatching a bow from his thrall.  The commander lowered the bow in frustration unable to take a clear shot.  The young hunter became out of sight within seconds.  "Release the hounds!"  He barked and a pack of rabid dogs were unchained.  The mongrels descended from the ridge, pursuing Valder's stench from the tracks he left behind.  While the raiding party remained distracted by Valder's escape, Lir hurled his axe, dead set on a target.  Fingers loosened from the curved handle and it twirled through the air. Lir had aimed for the hooded man but a soldier shielded him, taking the blunted edge of the axe to the skull.  The invaders quickly swarmed the attacker, but before they could restrain him, he wedged a second axe into the nearest pulsing neck.  It had taken four men to subdue Lir.                                                                                                                ​With a turn the stranger removed his hood and revealed himself.  A blinded and pale eye bore a large scar running down the edge of his cheek. Lir gasped as if he stared at a ghost.  These two had shared a history together and they had not confronted one another since the fall of Airus.                                                                                                                                                      ​"Castor?"  Lir's mind fell into a state of confusion.                                                                  ​"In the flesh."  Castor said, flaring his arms open.                                                                  ​"Uh, I do not know how you have survived, but this is my land you walk on and you don't belong."                                                                                                                                                 ​"Oh but I do, Lir. And it seems that your past has come back to haunt you.  Being that you are a man of the oath, we can do this peacefully."                                                                             ​"The oath! You have no right to mention the oath!"  Lir shouted.                                                                                    ​The remark angered Castor and he knew there would be no reasoning with his old enemy.  "Once I capture your son, perhaps I should make him a servant of Zoth."  Castor returned the bow to his follower but weaved a single arrow between his fingers.  "My time is precious; give me the property you stole from Airus."                                                                                                                      ​"Ha, Ha!"  Lir laughed.  "I have no need for old relics, what you seek has been long lost.  And if you dare to bring my son into this, I will finish where I failed."                                                                                                                    ​"Why must they always be stubborn?"  Castor uttered, shaking his head.                                                                                  ​"Leave now or die in this land!"  Lir barked.                                                                                  ​"There will be death, I assure you."                                                                                              ​Lir lifted his head towards the looming white clouds in the gray sky.  He blinked repeatedly but what he seen in the heavens would not leave his sight.  Between the clouds a fortress of ice glimmered on the summit of a snowy peak.  The gates of the fortress opened releasing a blinding light and a silhouette of a man appeared to look upon him.  Castor turned his head towards the sky and to see nothing but the thick clouds.  Lir bowed his head and accepted his fate.  "Oaknar protect my people."  He whispered under a breath.                                               ​Castor whipped around, hearing those words angered him even more. The wizard laid his palms flat and the eye shaped talisman flashed.  It seemed to conjure a spell to cause the arrow to levitate.                                                                                                                                  ​Without warning, the arrow shot forward and targeted Lir's beating heart.  Lir's eyes widened and long gasp escaped his lungs when the iron arrowhead pierced him.  Lir's body turned limp as his strong neck bowed.  The grip of the knights loosened, allowing the corpse to flop to the ground.                                                                                                                                          ​Several miles still remained between Valder and Frostmist.  The pack of snarling dogs pursued him relentlessly through an ice covered forest. During his strides, he glanced beyond his shoulder to see the hounds gaining. There wasn't a man alive that could best a pack of dogs in a test of endurance.  There were six sets of jaws in all, enough to latch on to each of his limbs.  Valder slid to a standstill and rolled the bow over his shoulder.  From the quiver dangling at his hip, he retrieved an arrow.  Valder filled his lungs with a deep breath and steadied his stance.  The bow bent with his pull and the air in his lungs retreated with the arrow on his string.  The arrow nailed his first target, sending the charging mutt plummeting over itself.  One down, five to go.  Valder repeated the process, slaying three more.  Two hounds left, much better odds for the young warrior.  Valder tossed the bow aside to unsheathe his dagger.  The dogs cornered him with rattling jaws and flaring lips flashed their fangs.  Valder slightly arched himself and began to pace backwards.  Finally one had leaped for an attack. With an upward swing he speared its underbelly and tossed the burly mutt beyond his shoulder.  It let out a whimper as it landed and the remaining pair of jaws locked onto his ankle.  Valder freed himself by kicking away the sharp teeth but the vicious dog was unfazed.  It recovered by shaking its snout then it quickly pounced again.  Swinging downwards Valder opened its skull with the heel of his dagger.  His energy was spent as he observed the scattered bodies of the pack.  He felt amazed to survive such an encounter but there was no time to enjoy this victory.

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