{Chapter the First}
                                -=-                  
                       {A Meeting of Three}


                                -=-


Darius Grimblade wheeled around just in time to parry the sword thrust from
the orc behind him. He was fighting on instinct now, which was probably an
advantage considering the speed at which the world seemed to be spinning 
around him at the moment. His mind duly noted the sound of the orc on
horseback rearing his steed and turning around for another charge. This
intrusion hadn't been much to his liking when he had faced six adversaries,
and he still wasn't quite pleased with his prospects for survival, even though
he had since reduced their number in half. 

He brought his shield up just in time to keep the second orc involved in the
melee from fitting his skull with a new mace, twisting himself in the process
to keep both orcs in front of him as best he could. The sound of a galloping
horse was growing louder again, and Darius knew he had to move fast if he was
going to survive this next charge. He parried another sword thrust from the
orc now on his left, spinning around again, wondering if his suspicions of
deception had been right all along. Still, he had danced a bit too closely
with death on one too many occasions fighting Vartekh on his own, and had
decided to take a chance on a rumor that Amel Talic had found himself in the
same predicament. 

Darius had sized up the situation after meeting with a messenger who claimed
to have been sent by Talic himself. Talic was well known as a loner who chose
his companions carefully - or, rather, who had chosen his *only* companion
carefully, that being the barbarian known as Argoth. The pair were outlaws
like the Warlord Grimblade, and were even more notorious. Tales of the duo's
exploits spread far and wide like wildfire, and their fame even eclipsed
Grimblade's in his own little niche of Erratonia. Darius had spent the past
few months becoming the next large thorn in Vartekh's side. He had traveled
countless backwater roads eliminating roving bands of the Imperial Lord's
troops, and had participated in the few successful campaigns against the
Empire on the fringes of the Western Edge. His path had never crossed that of
Amel or Argoth, though he had come close on a number of occasions, always
seeming to be one or two days behind the action. A union with Talic and Argoth
could be the perfect alliance. 

Or the perfect bait.

The hoofbeats were almost deafening now.

Darius brought his shield up again, blocking the mace perfectly in midswing.
As the orc on his right came in low with his sword, the fighter slid abruptly
to the side, stepping inside the reach of the first orc's extended mace,
bringing his sword up viciously to his left. The move caught the shieldless
mace-wielder completely off guard. More to the point, it also caught his
skull. 

The Warlord wheeled around just in time to avoid getting trampled by the 
charging destrier, leaving his weapon buried in the head of the dead 
orc. Both hands firmly behind his shield, he brought it up over his head, 
feeling it crack defending the overhead arc of the bastard sword. The force of
the blow caused him to reel backwards a step, sending him sprawling over the
body of the orc he had felled not two heartbeats ago. 

He landed hard on his back, the buckles of his demon-visored helmet snapping 
from the impact as he struck the ground. Long black hair flowed out from its 
keeping place, dark brown eyes searching furtively for some means of escape.
His headgear gone, Darius looked at the orc towering upside-down above him and
understood full well what that wide, toothy grin meant. This was one stroke he
wasn't going to be able to parry. He wondered how much bounty these two were
going to collect for ambushing him on this forsaken trail, and wondered why
his life wasn't choosing this particular moment to go flashing before his eyes.

His only regret was that he would never find out who had really sent the 
messenger.

The orc raised his sword, amazed at his good fortune. Suddenly his eyes 
widened in surprise, and the grin on his face twisted into a grimace of pain 
and confusion. The longsword fell out of his hand, blood pouring out of the
wound in his back as he fell to the side. 

Darius stared dumbfounded at the looming human with the full red beard and
dripping wet sword who now towered above him in the orc's place. His mouth
opened in an expression of complete and utter disbelief. 

Argoth looked down at the fallen warrior.

"Oh, hello there!" he said, beaming a wide grin down to the prone man. "Are you
Darius Grimblade?" 

When no answer was forthcoming, Argoth smiled crookedly. "Well, you're right.
Introductions can wait until later." The barbarian's eyes roamed the open
glade as Darius became aware of the sound of a horse being brought to a
standstill. "Amel, are you all right?" 

Amel Talic finished wiping the blood from his battle axe as the dispatched 
rider finished sliding into the afterlife, giving a cursory nod to his 
companion.

The mention of Talic's name broke the Warlord out of his trance. He raised his 
head and sat upright upon the ground as a white-haired priest astride a gray 
horse came towards him.

"Darius Grimblade?"

"Yes?"

The cleric dismounted expertly despite the seemingly entangling blue-and-white 
robe he wore identifying him clearly as a servant of Falcros.

The grey-eyed man bowed, a smile playing on the edge of his lips.

"Amel Talic, at your service."

                        {X          X          X}



The three had traveled up the road through the forest until they had reached 
another clearing, leaving the fallen orcs for the wolves. There had been much 
pleasant conversation along the way, a far cry from the solitude and 
somberness Darius had become accustomed to after combat.

He welcomed the change.

Camp had been set up at nightfall, and supper had been produced from Argoth's 
supply bag. It had been a warm meal, a warmer fire, and even warmer company 
for the three outlaws. Darius had paused after dinner had been concluded, then 
gave voice to a question he had been too busy to ask earlier.

"How did you know where to find me?"

Argoth looked from the fire to Amel, who slowly shifted his gaze from the fire
to Darius. It had grown quite dark outside the light of the blaze, but there
was no mistaking the intensity behind the grey eyes that burned into Darius'
own. Talic paused, and Darius had the notion he was being weighed on a scale;
being judged worthy or not of this revelation. It was not a very comfortable
feeling. 

Judgment was passed.

"I asked Falcros for guidance, and it was given to me."

This was one rumor Darius hadn't heard. A priest having visions? Such an 
occurence had been common in another day and age - before the Uprising. Darius 
pondered this new information.

Amel peered out into the distance past the light of the campfire, the
expression on his face a mixture of deep peace and equally deepened thought. 

Darius shrugged. The cleric and the barbarian had found him *some*how, against
all odds, so there had to be some explanation. This one was probably no worse
than any other, if no closer to the truth. 

He turned to the young priest. "I suppose it's possible -" 

"You *suppose* it's possible?" Amel interrupted vehemently, his eyes boring
into Darius again. "It saved your life!" 

The warrior was quick to his own defense. "I'm sorry," he sputtered. "I didn't
mean to offend. But I have been among the Kiriesti -" Darius paused. Impossible
as it had seemed, Talic's eyes had bored even *deeper* into his own at the
mention of the sylvan race. The look softened quickly, leaving Darius to wonder
if it had truly hardened at all. 

_Probably my imagination_, he thought to himself. Grimblade continued. "I
have seen their priests rendered sightless. There is talk that Siltir himself
may be dead, although his priests refuse to admit the possibility. It is as if
they believe that the Great War had somehow been evaded by him, as most wars
on this world are avoided by his descendants." Warrior though he was, 
Grimblade was not unversed in the art of compromise. "Please forgive me. My
doubt stems only from the fact that I haven't seen a true servant of Lord
Falcros in a long, long time." 

Amel's facial muscles relaxed noticeably. The title Darius had bestowed upon 
the God of War was one used only by Falcros's faithful.

"My apologies. It has been a long day to this point for all of us." Amel stood 
up and stretched his limbs. "Perhaps we should make plans and retire for the 
evening?"

Darius nodded in agreement, much appreciating the conciliatory gesture. He was
very tired indeed, and much relieved that some degree of normalcy had returned
to Amel Talic's face. "Where are we heading?" 

Talic regarded his red-haired companion with something Darius could only
interpret as amusement. "We ride to visit Dorn of Torin. What say you,
Argoth?" 

The very hairs of Argoth's beard seemed to turn down with his frown. "By Vala,
Amel! We never have anything for our troubles but more troubles when we visit
Torin!" 

Darius looked puzzled. "I am no stranger to Torin," he began, "but I know of 
no one there answering to the name of Dorn." He turned to Talic. "Who is he?"

The white-haired cleric laughed at the distressed looks of his companions, 
turned toward Darius, and proceeded to answer. "Dorn is a longtime ally of 
ours, and a great contact in the South. Chance, though, has always conspired 
to lead trouble to Torin when we call to visit."

Argoth groaned, making no effort to disguise the grimace on his face. "Yeah, 
*big* trouble..."

"We're still alive, aren't we?" Amel piped in. "You know as well as I do,
Argoth, that Dorn will be able to give us our money's worth out of this." The
young priest gestured towards a black teakwood chest that lay to one side of
the encampment. Grimblade had noticed it strapped to Talic's mount earlier,
but had forgotten about it amidst all the conversation (not to mention the
bear meat Argoth had cooked for dinner, which had been quite good indeed).
"Information isn't cheap," Amel continued, "and it's as expensive as it is
valuable in Torin. And Dorn's the one to get it." 

"Yeah, I guess so." Argoth sighed, a sure indication that he had given in to 
the notion of another suicidal venture into Torin. "I can't sleep at the 
moment with that knowledge, Amel. I'll take the first watch."

"Very well, my friend." The young priest extended his arms to indicate both of 
his companions. "Are we agreed, then?"

Darius nodded, having no reason to argue to the contrary. His few trips into 
Torin had been uneventful, and he hadn't the slightest idea what could be so 
troubling to the hulking barbarian.

"Well, then," Amel continued, "I propose that you and I turn in, Darius. I'll
take the second watch. You've had a long day - enjoy a full night's sleep.
We're leaving at dawn." With that, he turned and strode over to his tent,
taking one last glance back at Argoth and flashing what Darius assumed to be a
"good luck" sign to the barbarian. Then he disappeared into his quarters. 

Darius stood up slowly and looked over at Argoth. It puzzled him that neither
Argoth nor Amel had made much of the fact that Darius would be dead if not for
their rather timely intervention. Grimblade had worked with a few other rebels
in raids and the like against Vartekh, but they had been mostly
ex-mercenaries who had exhibited a rather depressing tendency to hang this
sort of thing over your head like a dangling blade, expecting to claim a favor
in return at a later date. Neither the priest nor the barbarian, however, had
seemed inclined to take any steps in that direction. It was, all in all,
somewhat alien, rather puzzling - but reassuringly unfamiliar, however strange 
that seemed to him.

"A very strange man, Amel Talic," he volunteered.

Argoth chuckled. He had been left alone with many people after their first
encounter with his longtime friend. "Strange" was actually among the more 
politic of responses. 

The big man smiled good-naturedly. "You'll get used to it."

"Yeah, I guess so." The weary warrior started making his way over to his tent. 
"Well, good night, Argoth. And I want to say th-"

"Don't mention it," the barbarian cut in. He seemed to smile more to himself 
than to Darius, his eyes looking off into the distance, focusing on something 
Darius didn't quite see - more likely, couldn't. "Besides, Amel would've 
*killed* me if you had died."

Darius wasn't sure what to make of this last comment, but sleep was stealing 
fast over his drained body, and carrying the conversation any further at this 
point would be impossible. "Well, good night again, Argoth."

"Good night, Darius."

Grimblade stumbled the rest of the way into his tent, leaving Argoth staring 
out into the darkness by the light of a dying fire.

--
-=-Chet Zeshonski
v073pzuy@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu