The next morning Weiss found the sky darkened and hostile, foreshadowing an impending storm. Chill wind channeled into focused gusts in the tight confines of Thistle Pass. His itchy woolen cloak whipped around allowing body-warmed air to escape his protective outer layer. He pulled the hood up and held the fabric tight at his neck.

The savage gusts died as he emerged from the mouth of the pass and moved into nearly still air of the shielded leeward side of the mountains. He continued riding parallel to the road and out of the wind. Elevation changed rapidly, and the flat plateau gave way to a low, rocky plain dotted with thin evergreens and patches of yellow grass. The air warmed, and the distinct scent of fresh tilled dirt warned of the heavy rain still to come.

"It will be a cold, wet ride," Weiss said, "Guess I should keep you dry, so you don’t start smelling like the inside of my boot."

Weiss giant steed clopped along, wagon in tow, at a steady pace in the soft loam. The land was comprised of sandy clay, that when fired into bricks, could be turned into structures. Weiss studied the terrain as he passed, and saw the telltale signs of old gathering sites dotting the hills.

"Not much traffic out this way," Weiss said. He looked over his shoulder to where Alessandro lay. The wagon rode smoothly across the soft ground. Weiss smiled.

"I must be daft… talking to a corpse," he said.

Weiss spurred the horse into a trot. The thin stands of trees opened into a flat rocky drag. Boulders and smaller rock debris spotted the landscape. The harder pack of the earth here preserved signs of an antique road that wiggled through the rough terrain.

Weiss pulled back on the reins and his horse came to an easy stop. He squinted into the distance. A figure of a man stumbled and fell to his knees, and struggled to stand again.

Weiss urged his horse into slow gallop. He checked the wagon and spurred him faster. He kept a watchful eye on the figure as he closed the distance to a few yards.

The figure was a man, elderly and hunched. His mouth was dry and cracked, and his sun-bleached hair was wispy and windblown. He looked at Weiss from behind dark-circled eyes and tried to speak. He collapsed to the ground.

Weiss hesitated and considered riding on before slipping from his seat on the wagon. He pulled a water skin from a pack and gave the horse a reassuring pat on its flank.

The old man rolled from his hands and knees to a sitting position, and accepted the water Weiss offered, as he crouched beside him.

"Many thanks to you, stranger," he said in a rough voice. He struggled to catch his breath and took a long drink of the water.

"Easy," Weiss said, "you do yourself more harm by drinking too fast."

With effort, the man stopped himself and said, "I know. It’s funny what one forgets about survival once desperation takes hold of your mind."

He took cautious sips now as Weiss studied him. He was frail with messy white hair and a full, unkempt beard. Green eyes sat in the middle of dark, sunken sockets. Aside from his dirty, ragged linen clothes, the man had no supplies to undergo a journey of any length.

"What is your name, friend?" Weiss asked. "What brings you out into the wilds of Echantia?"

"Penley. Penley Seabury," he said tentatively handing the water skin back to Weiss, who motioned for him to keep it. He nodded and made a strained smile. "I am on my way to Relornia… to Uriel. My home, Rellasia, is under attack and I intend to petition the Warden for aid."

Weiss shifted uncomfortably from one leg to another, and then stood.

"How do you mean?" He glanced back to his wagon, where the Warden of Relornia lay dead.

"Evil has taken root there," Penley said. "There have been several disappearances under questionable circumstances. They appear to be accidents, but I suspect there is more to it."

"Why?" Weiss asked. He helped Penley to his feet, and motioned to his horse. The great animal promptly trotted to his side. Weiss reached in the saddle pack and pulled out a hooded wool cloak, and handed it to Penley.

"Thank you again for the kindness," he said. "The people involved, I’ve known all my life. We are a careful sort, in Rellasia… to fault sometimes. They went missing less than a month apart. We found no trace of them."

"Perhaps it is coincidence," Weiss offered.

"I might have agreed with you, but our troubles began when strange light glowed over the Wastes to the north of our town," Penley said.

Weiss stared into the distance. There was a day in his own childhood when lights appeared above the Wastes near his village of Royk, many leagues North of Uriel. His father fought to protect the village, in the end, the Taslu were too savage and in too great of numbers for a small village to defend against. That day changed his life forever.

"If the Taslu are involved, there would be evidence of the slaughter they leave behind," Weiss explained.

"Nothing has emerged from the Waste, but the boundary seems to be moving south," Penley said. "I believe the Warden is our only hope for survival."

"Then I have news that may be of little comfort," Weiss said. Penley’s eyes narrowed. "I travel with the Warden of Relornia."

Relief spread over Penley’s face, but he let out a heavy sigh as Weiss pulled the tarp away to reveal Alessandro’s linen wrapped body. Penley shook his head slightly, defeat in his old eyes. Penley’s determination drained away, like heat fading in the cold.

"I am taking him to his ancestral home for burial."

Penley’s body sagged. Weiss stood expressionless. Here was a man who could not have believed that he would survive the journey to Uriel, but faith in Alessandro drove him to try.

Weiss could not deny responsibility for this man. Was this not what started the war with his brother? The pursuit of power consumed Alessandro. However, Penley knew nothing of that. He believed in Alessandro and the ancient traditional office of Warden.

"Maybe I can be of help," Weiss said. "I act as Ael Warden, in his stead." He hoped the equally ancient title of acting Warden still held weight in the world.

"How is it that the Warden of Relornia is dead?"

"War does not consider titles when it strikes men down," Weiss said.

"We know little about the war," Penley said. "Rellasia is isolated on the coast. You are the first outsider I’ve met in many years."

"Surprising," Weiss said. "People are generally suspicious of strangers."

"I am old and hardly in any condition to refuse aid. No matter the source."

Weiss smiled. "I suppose not."

"Do you think you can help us?"

"I will try. I owe the Warden that much, at least."

The subtle tone of regret in Weiss’ voice was lost on Penley, who seemed to relax. Weiss cleared a spot on the wagons bench for Penley. He graciously accepted the seat. He removed the bits of fabric and leather he used for shoes, and revealed bruised, vein-streaked feet. He sighed with relief.

"How is it you come to be the one to take the Warden home?" Penley asked.

"He is my brother."

Penley sat in silence. His breath slowed. Weiss watched the realization on his face as the words settled in his mind. He knew at least that much about the war, Weiss thought.

They rode as far as the remaining light allowed, bumping along on the increasingly rocky landscape. Penley slept for the majority of the ride despite the rough bouncing and intermittent side-to-side rocking of the wagon. He only awoke long enough to force fluid from his lungs in violent coughing fits before lolling back into an uneasy sleep.

Weiss pulled an extra tarp from the wagon and two pre-cut poles, which he fashioned into a low-pitched tent. He made a few adjustments to compensate for the steady straight-line winds that cut through the plain before hammering the guy lines in place. He unhooked the

As the sun faded into a purple and orange horizon, beneath a dark ceiling of clouds, so did the meager heat it provided. Orange and yellow light flickered with the shadows around their camp as the wind stirred the dancing flames of the campfire. Penley edged closer to the fire, trying to absorb as much heat as possible.

"That means you are Weiss Elvand," Penley said through a hacking cough.

"It does," Weiss said.

"You are not what I expected," Penley said.

"Few people are what you expect. There is always something more to them," Weiss said.

Penley considered this, then said, "What more was there to the Warden, that put brother against brother?"

Weiss didn’t look forward to this conversation, but it was inevitable. He seated himself and rubbed his hands together at the fire.

"My earliest memories of Alessandro are of a small, awkward kid. He never had an overabundance of confidence, especially around other people. I used to think he was afraid of hurting someone. From an early age, he possessed exceptional control over his Aspects," Weiss said.

A puzzled expression sat on Penley’s face.

"Magic," Weiss explained. Penley nodded understanding. "Over the years, I had to come to his rescue several times. Once those with the disposition to take advantage of the weak learned about his restraint, it was daily harassment from then on."

"Sounds normal," Penley said, "just in the awkward stages of boyhood."

"It’s true," Weiss said staring into the flames. "But as I said, there is usually more to people than you expect. This was true with Alessandro though I took many years to see it… or rather accept it. He grew petty and vengeful over the years, and was less inclined to practice restraint. He was obsessed with books; books about the world before the Writhing. He convinced himself that the bygone magic of the ancients still existed in the world and that he could possess it."

"Why? If the stories are true, that magic is what caused the Writhing and destroyed many civilizations. Those stories are the cornerstone of our way of life in Rellasia… and why the practice of magic is forbidden."

Until today, the Warden of Relornia was a mythical figure, whose aid was worth spending your last breath to gain. Weiss destroyed that ideal.

"No matter how capable he became he always believed he was the weaker, yet more deserving brother. Eventually taking up for him became insulting, and he grew very distant from me."

"You still had to take up for him though he grew stronger and less restrained?" Penley asked.

"Yes," Weiss said. He remembered it clearly. It was part of their daily routine. But why? He could not remember the transitional time when Alessandro assumed his own protection, but he remembered the day that changed everything, and the memory of that day still brought a cold sadness with it.

Weiss noticed Penley was staring at him, shivering. He took off his cloak and tossed it over to him. Penley seemed to notice the deep scarring to the right side of Weiss body for the first time. He stopped shivering.

"You won’t be cold?" Penley asked.

"No. I’ll be fine," Weiss said. "I can warm myself through other means. I’m North-born. It helps... Use it to insulate yourself from the ground."

"You are not from the Southern regions, like your brother?"

"No. My family fled the northern expanses when I was nine or ten. The Wastes were spreading aggressively and unchecked in the weaker natural magic there. My father was reluctant to leave our village to the Taslu, but he knew we had to. He gave his life to save me and many others from the invasion that day."

"He seems to have been a great man," Penley said, struggling to get the words past quick, raspy coughs.

"Yes," Weiss said, "for short part of my life that I knew him... he was."

I wonder what he would think of me now.

"We spent months as refugees, traveling south," Weiss explained. "There were perhaps a hundred of us when we started. We lost twenty or so elders, before the Warden Artor Phyre found us."

"I remember hearing stories about Warden Phyre when I was a boy," Penley said. "Formidable, I recall."

"They all are," Weiss said, "they have to be."

Weiss continued, "Warden Phyre and his group found us and took us in.

"Warden Phyre gave us refuge in Uriel. That was the first time I got to see Warden Hold. I was awed over how enormous it was. For a while, it was our home, but it was not to be permanent. They relocated us to Lindistra, to the town of Lathaw, with the family next in line to produce the Warden."

"That’s when Alessandro became my brother. Alessandro’s father adopted me as his own. He was a lot like my father. Only tiny."

He remembered his adopted father fondly, and knew the man Durwin Elvand better than his birth father.

"He never treated me like an outsider. I was just part of the family," Weiss explained.

Penley sat quietly except that he wheezed with nearly every breath. His features were drawn and thin in the yellow firelight.

"Maybe we should get some rest. We still have a way to go, and well start early in the morning," Weiss said.

To the west, ahead of them, the faint stain of last light was forced from the sky by angry clouds. Coastal gusts pushed in moist chilly air, unimpeded by the windswept land around them.

"I would like to hear more… if you’re up to it," Penley said. He pulled his cloak a little tighter as Weiss added more wood to the fire.

"All right," Weiss said. "I was a blacksmith, by the time my brother became Warden. It was my family’s trade. Some of the other refugees from (the north) had set up to provide the service to their new community. I thought it fitting I learn it. My dominant Aspect is physical, which lent well to crafting metal."

The evening wore on. Weiss did most of the talking while Penley sat and listened.

"It was strange to be apart from Alessandro. I had no siblings before him. He had moved to Uriel to assume the seat of Warden. I did not get to see him again until father passed away. I was perhaps twenty-eight when he died as was Alessandro. Word was sent to him, and he arrived two weeks later. Father was cremated in the tradition of my homeland, and his ashes were spread in the Sea of Silver."

"When did the war begin?" Penley asked, his voice weak.

"Five years after becoming Warden, Alessandro searched the world for evidence of pre-Writhing civilizations. He collected hundreds of books and relics from ruins all over Armain. The information he gained from his research fueled his obsession with power," Weiss explained.

"I always believed he wanted to bring the world together again," Penley said.

"I believe that too. But I also believe that it was to be under his rule," Weiss said. "A young woman in service of the Warden’s court, Regalt, came to me in Lindistra with a disturbing tale. She spoke of secret plans concerning an ancient power… a power at Warden’s Hold. She overheard a conversation between Alessandro and one of his advisers. He intended to contain and control the power there, through the use of rituals discovered in his collection of ancient texts."

Weiss paused. Penley appeared to be sleeping, but awoke again to the sound of the crackling fire. Weiss continued when Penley looked at him after a moment of post sleep confusion.

"Over the years, I would catch Alessandro in half-truths, and he developed a very secretive nature. Regalt stayed with me. She was scared and alone. At first we were unified by the common problem in the North, but it became more than that. She stayed by my side through the hard decisions I had to make, and when I finally confronted Alessandro and vowed to stop him no matter the cost… she was there."

Weiss remembered that day. Alessandro lost all sense of reality, spouting crazed non-sense and mad gibbering. And yet his people remained, without question. He left that day desperate and angry over Alessandro’s betrayal.

He traveled back to Lindistra, and in the following weeks--with Regalt’s help--he raised the force of five thousand men and women he wielded against Alessandro and his army of zealots and sycophants.

Penley dozed uneasily against the wagon. Weiss carefully laid him on a bedroll and dragged him into the small tent. He covered him with the extra cloak and a blanket before stoking the fire once more.

Lightning flashed in the distance a few short moments before the low rumble of thunder. Weiss checked the mooring lines on the tent.

"I am concerned with us being out in the open," Weiss said checking the oil and wax coated tarp over Alessandro.

He rested his forehead on the musty smelling wagon. Lightning flashed, illuminating everything briefly in its hard bluish-white light. His horse milled around the edge of camp, unafraid of the impending storm. His silhouette was like a black marble statue. Weiss was proud of him. He decided that he needed a name. It had to be a good, strong name. He had time, and a name required thought and care. Alessandro and his mastery of languages would never have let it go this long. It would have been ancient, proud, and perfect.

"How did we get here?" Weiss asked. "Was there another way?"

He fought back the sick regret rising in his chest. It was all wrong. But it was necessary, wasn’t it? Weiss had no choice be to stop his brother. The power Alessandro toyed with had nearly ended Armain.

Had it not been for Regalt, Weiss would have never known about the plot. His simple day-to-day life would have continued while he believed in the honor of his brother and the unbreakable integrity of the Warden.

He missed Regalt. He hadn’t seen her in seven years. The danger was too great for her to follow him into war. He wished she were here now. He needed her council.  Far too few walls or comforts for her to want to be here. There was also the fact that she hadn’t seen him since his fight with Alessandro. He wondered if the scars would affect her love for him. He hoped she could accept him when she saw him again. He promised himself to understand if she did not, but he doubted that was true. Still, it helped right now.

Miladda thrived in the wild. She blended into the natural world, invigorated by it. Weiss suspected it had to do with the Blood Hunter’s origins from the extinct Isana races. Suspicion and intolerance surrounded her kind. Most considered Blood Hunters to be aberrations; a byproduct of the Writhing and in truth, they were.

Weiss thought it was a convenient excuse to dehumanize them. Humans abhorred slavery. It was easier to accept the concept of slavery when the enslaved were wild, dangerous animals.

Regalt carried a particularly strong intolerance toward them. Toward Miladda especially. She was outraged to the point of incoherence when she learned that Weiss removed the indenturing band and freed her. At first, he thought it was the spurned emotions of a woman in love. There was more to it than that. Regalt considered her an animal, a pet, a tool. Not an equal.

Weiss saw something else in Miladda. The only thing hindering her equality was the indenturing band. And that was gone now. It is widely believed that Blood Hunters have a neutral personality and take on the characteristics of their owner. This was true, to an extent. She was her own personality now, strong and capable and very much an individual. The challenge lay in convincing her of that.

He considered the choice he made leaving Miladda in charge of his army. Had it come to a choice between her and Regalt, who would be in charge right now? Weiss knew Miladda was the only choice. He would never hear the end of it.

Regalt possessed a strong sense of entitlement, making her a poor choice to lead an army. He could imagine the men dispatched to the four corners of Relornia to fetch exotic foods for her lunch. No, Miladda was the right choice.

Regalt was angry when he left her at the Keep nearly seven years ago, but it was for her own good. She was safe and warm with all the pampering she could stand. He planned to visit her there when this business in Rellasia was finished and Alessandro was home.

Everyone treated him, or rather, looked at him differently since that fateful battle with Alessandro in the beautiful plains of Southern Relornia. He and a small contingent of men under an impenetrable cloud of stealth separated Weiss and his unit from the main force. Weiss met him in a small forest clearing and paid dearly for it.

"Why did you spare my life that day?" Weiss asked. "You had beaten me?"

He knew why. In his heart, he knew how hard it was to kill a brother.

Next Chapter: Chapter 6