The feet of the horses pattered loudly upon the dirt path. The sun was just beginning to rise, its golden light reflecting off the dew upon the grass. In the west, the Virel Mountains loomed tall, casting a shadow upon the company.
Eldamir, Neyteg, Arozal, Felimor, and Endeln rode at the head of the company, about fifty feet in front of the others. They talked softly amongst themselves, of their plans to come. Most of their discussion was centered around Elernol, and how to break their siege.
They had no news of how the siege went, save the messenger who had appeared three days before, and now rode with their company. Now they neared the great, deep chasm of Ceres Ellenon.
It was there that Neyteg said the Paladins were now situated, hiding in a hidden stronghold at the bottom of the dark hole in the land of Anglemour. Neyteg spoke, his voice barely audible amongst the wind and pounding of hooves. "We are only some ten miles from the chasm. It shouldn�t be much longer."
"That�s good to hear," replied Eldamir. "I grow weary of riding, as I�m sure the others do as well."
"Yes," spoke Felimor. "Indeed, very weary indeed are we. Much would I give for a soft bed and a warm meal."
"That isn�t as far away as you think," Neyteg said, forcing a smile. "But our stay shall not be long. Only one night�s rest, and then again we shall ride to battle. It will be a test of your abilities, Felimor. Arozal�s as well. If the two of you prove yourselves worthy in battle, I shall bestow upon you both the title of Paladin."
"Many thanks," said Arozal. "Though I am hardly deserving of that title. I see not why you would grant it to me."
"I believe you are more worthy of the title than you think," spoke Neyteg. "The truth shall be seen in battle."
Eldamir interrupted, pointing forward. "What is that before us, Lord Neyteg?"
Neyteg peered into the distance. "I believe, my friend, that we now look upon Ceres Ellenon."
"Good news is this," Endeln said as they arrived at the deep chasm. "But how are we to get down? And once down, will there be room for everyone?"
"It isn�t that hard..." Said Neyteg. "There is a path, it just isn�t easy to see. There is plenty of room at the bottom for both man and horse."
The chasm was deep and dark; its walls a smooth faded gray stone. Veins of red ore laced the walls, running in sporadic patterns down the sides of the chasm. The sunlight bounced off the highest stones, but could not penetrate the deepest parts of the canyon.
"Is there any natural light down there?" Asked Arozal, peering over the edge.
"No," replied Neyteg. "Only the light of fire and magic. The Paladins have done quite a good job of magically lighting many of the rooms. I think you will find it to your liking, young warrior."
"I am sure I shall," said Arozal. "For any place in which I may eat and sleep, even be it a dungeon of Oredun, I would find to my liking at this moment."
"Yes," Endeln cut in. "Let us now eat. For weeks, I have survived on only dried fruits and biscuits. I am now finding it quite hard to swallow such food."
Eldamir chuckled. "Then let us now descend into the stronghold of the Paladins. Please, Lord Neyteg, if you would be so kind as to lead the way..."
"Follow me," spoke Neyteg, walking down a rough path, which the others had earlier failed to notice. The other four, along with nearly ten thousand warriors and wizards followed in a single file line, which seemed to stretch for miles. They led their horses behind them, walking slowly into the darkest depths of Ceres Ellenon.
They passed by the occasional torch mounted along the wall as they moved deeper and deeper into the chasm. For hours they walked in silence, marveling at the beauty of the chasm. For deep within, it�s walls were lined with veins of gems and precious metals, which could not be seen from the surface. The fiery light shone on the walls, shadows dancing with the flicker of the flame.
Arozal wiped sweat from his brow. The air was thick this far down. He breathed heavily. Finally, he broke the silence. "Neyteg, for how much longer must we walk?"
"Not long," replied Neyteg, still moving. His sheathed sword bounced at his waist, bobbing as he stepped.
Arozal took a deep breath. "The air is heavy here. It is quite uncomfortable..."
"Worry not," Neyteg spoke. "In our domain below, you shall find it much more to your liking, I believe."
"That is good..." Arozal slowly trailed off as silence again set in upon them, broken only by the sound of breathing and heavy boots hitting the stone steps. After several minutes, they came to a stop.
Neyteg pressed open a large, circular oak door. It moved smoothly inward, leaving a large opening through which many men could walk abreast. "At last, we arrive." Neyteg stepped through the opening. "Follow me."
The others followed, staring in amazement as they entered. The walls were stone, carved into the side of the chasm. They were covered with shining gems, and on them hung items of unspeakable value. There were spears of gold and platinum, swords studded with diamonds and emeralds, and even the tables and chairs were of silver and gold, sparkling in the torch light. Paladins, knights, and archers stood all around, talking softly to one another.
Arozal was in awe at the beauty and splendor of the stronghold. From somewhere unknown, a cool breeze blew gently through the great room. Arozal removed his helmet, feeling the chill wind upon his face. He looked back towards Neyteg. "Indeed, this is a fair place..."
"Neyteg," spoke Eldamir. "We mustn�t tarry here long. We must break the siege of Elernol, before their defenses fail."
"And we have another problem..." Felimor said grimly.
"What would that problem be, young warrior?" Asked Neyteg.
Felimor sighed. "This is a stronghold of the Paladins, but Erozal, now Oredun, was a Paladin as well. He knows this place exists, and yet, he does not crush it in his vile grasp. I fear he has worse plans."
"Nay," replied Neyteg. "I do not believe it to be so. He is no longer the great man he once was. It seems to me that when his soul was stolen, so were his memories. He remembers nothing, I believe."
"That cannot be so," cut in Arozal. "For, he knew my name, he knew to call himself Erozal. He knew of Felimor. I fear Felimor is right."
Neyteg shook his head. "It matters not. He has not come here. Rest now, for we leave tomorrow at sunrise. I will show you to your rooms." They followed Neyteg as he took each of them to a separate room.
As soon as he entered his room, Arozal removed his mail. He set his sword upon a table of wood, collapsing onto a makeshift bed of soft feathers. Instantly, his eyes closed and he drifted into a deep sleep, haunted by visions of Oredun and his Black Army.
The cool wind blew softly across the land. It howled mournfully, weaving in and out of the trees, which dotted the grassy plains. Not a star was the in the sky overheard. The light of the moon was covered by thick, black clouds, floating every so slowly across the sky, ready to burst at any moment.
In the distance, lightning shot across the sky, followed closely by the harsh roar of thunder. Rain droplets began to fall, hitting the ground with a soft splash. Animals scurried about, struggling to find cover before the storm arrived in full force.
Arozal stood alone, wearing his battered silver chain mail, with a silver coif upon his head. He watched the clouds moving overhead, feeling the wind and rain upon his face.
"Come to me..." Called a voice, dark and harsh, from the darkness.
Arozal spun, reaching down to draw Yeteres, only to find that it wasn�t there. "W-who are you?"
The voice chuckled evilly. "You know who I am, Arozal... Come, join me..."
"Stop it!" Fear was evident in the young warrior�s voice as he turned all about, searching for the origin of the dark voice.
A figure melted from the shadow, clothed in flowing black robes. Its arms were long and muscular, reaching low to the ground, holding a curved, wicked blade. Its eyes burned with an unquenchable fire, casting a red glow about the inside of his hood. Its skin was black and smooth, a feeling of pure malice and hatred emanating from his body. "Thou art a fool, Arozal. To oppose me is to doom thyself to endless suffering."
Arozal faced the figure, the voice seeming strangely familiar. It looked like the orcs of legend. Long, strong arms, black skin, the hideous face, just like in the stories. "What are you?"
The vile creature laughed. "I am the essence of evil. The bane of your existence." He reached upwards, casting the hood away, revealing the face of Erozal.
Arozal stumbled backwards, reaching for his sword that wasn�t there. He fell, impacting hard with a sharp rock. He tried to pull himself to his feet, only to feel the stone grip of the orcish Erozal closing around his throat. He struggled violently, gasping for air.
The dark being laughed, tightening his grip. "Thou cannot resist me, child of the light. The strength of Nauglen is within me. I shall slay thee, and thy soul shall be forever mine."
"N-No..." Arozal choked, attempting to escape the hand of Erozal.
"You should have joined me, Arozal." Spoke the demon-like being. "Now, you die."
Even as the demon�s grip tightened, Arozal awoke with a start. He had broken into a cold sweat, his face pale with fear. He breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down. "It was just a dream..." His own voice sounded strange to him in the dark, silent room.
Arozal pulled himself from the feather bed. He stepped carefully over to the window, drawing back the tapestry hung over it. Bright sunlight streamed in, temporarily blinding the young knight. "It�s daytime," he said softly to himself. "It is time we eat, and then journey to Elernol."
Even as he again went silent, a knock sounded at the door, followed by the familiar voice of Felimor. "Arozal!" He called. "Are you awake yet?"
"Yes," Arozal called back, turning towards the oak doorway.
"May I enter?" Asked Felimor, already beginning to press the door open.
"Please," replied Arozal. "Enter, my friend." He sighed. Suddenly, the memories had come floating back to him. He remembered when he and Felimor were young, how they had so often dreamed of becoming Paladins, embarking upon a great journey, and saving all of Anglemour. Now, it seemed, those dreams had returned to haunt them as terrible nightmares.
Immediately, Felimor sensed something. "What is wrong, Arozal?" He asked. He was clad in mail of green and black, a long broad sword hanging at his waist. Strapped across his back was a tall longbow. Arrows were strapped beside it, some one hundred of them. They were finely made, with long, slender shafts and thin, sharp points, tipped with a deadly poison. Upon the ends were feathers of green and black.
Arozal paused for a moment, noticing the garb, which Felimor now wore. "Felimor, why do you know wear such strange clothing?"
Felimor smiled grimly. "I am Felimor, son of Silmarris, last prince of Serassia. I dress now in the colors of my people, and carry now a bow, made from the nearly forgotten art that my people used in ancient times."
Arozal attempted a smile. "Did you tell Neyteg of this?"
"Indeed," replied Felimor. "Neyteg, Eldamir, and I talked late into the night. You and Endeln quickly drifted into sleep, but the rest of us found it more difficult. We spoke of the past, and of the possibilities of the future. I told them of our stay in Dahgoren, of my ancestry. Strangely enough, Neyteg did not seem overly surprised."
"I would not be surprised if he knew more than you expected," said Arozal, reaching for his dirty silver mail.
"He is wiser than any man I have before met..." Spoke Felimor. Then, noticing Arozal was preparing to put on his mail, he spoke again. "Arozal, my friend, Neyteg has for you the white armor of Paladins. He found it in the armory, near where he found this mail. It was his mail, when he first became a Paladin. A fine coat is it. Wear it well."
"Where may I find this mail?" Asked Arozal, eager to don the white armor of a Paladin.
"Come," said Felimor, turned and walking from the room. His friend followed closely behind, strapping Yeteres to his waist as he left. They made their way down long, busy hallways, until at last they came to the armory. Felimor pressed upon the heavy iron door. Just inside, sitting upon a silver pedestal, was a hauberk of gleaming white chain mail.
Arozal was silent, staring at the mail, which seemed to shine with a light from within. He reached out, touching the fine, riveted chain mail.
"Put it on," spoke Felimor, watching his friend from the doorway.
Arozal stepped forward, reaching out and grasping the hauberk. He slipped it over his head with little struggle. It was surprisingly light. From beneath it, he picked up a coif, placing it upon his head. He fit his hands into the gauntlets, clenching his fist several times. "This is a gift fit for kings..." Arozal mumbled to himself, feeling the weight of the armor upon his shoulders.
"Yes, it is," said a voice from the doorway. Endeln stood there, clad in full battle armor. "You awoke late, Arozal. We have filled our packs with food, but I fear that now we must go. Eldamir, Neyteg, and all of the knights, paladins, and wizards, save some two hundred knights of Cirtenia and Relnin left to guard this stronghold, are assembled."
Without a word, Felimor and Arozal followed the young Paladin from the armory. They walked down the hallway, which had suddenly become very empty. They turned, entering the grand hall. Silently, they began their climb up the great stone stairway, which led to the world above.
After several hours of climbing, always several hundred yards behind the others, the three warriors could see the light of the sun shining in the dawn sky. There it was hot and humid, with no wind to break the stillness. The only movement on the plain was the slight shifting of the warriors as they mounted their horses.
Neyteg stood at the head of the army, clad in shimmering white mail, a great helm set upon his head. His sword hung still at his side. Beside him stood Eldamir, clad in golden riveted mail. His sword was at his side, and his staff in his right hand. With his left hand, he held the reigns to his horse, as well as Neyteg�s.
As Arozal, Felimor, and Endeln stepped from the chasm of Ceres Ellenon, their feet hit the rocky ground with a soft thud. Their swords bounced every so slightly as they walked. Light reflected off their mail, and, for a moment, Arozal appeared as a shining being of white fire. He seemed to grow in height, to appear as an older man. In the morning sunlight, it seemed as if Arendil himself stood before them.
And then, the vision passed. Arozal stepped forward, and again appeared as a young man, clad in the armor of a Paladin. "Hail, Lord Neyteg!" He called.
Neyteg turned towards him. "I greet thee, Arozal. Unfortunately, there is no time for conversation. We must ride now with all haste. Mount your horse, young warrior."
Three knights appeared, each leading a horse of great stature. One of the knights spoke. "Here are your steeds, my lords."
"Thank you," replied Felimor. He mounted the tallest of the three horses. Its coat was glossy and smooth, a soft chestnut brown.
Arozal mounted the smallest of the three horses. Yet, it seemed the lordliest. It was a white color, its mane long and thick. It neighed as it was mounted, as if greeting the young warrior.
Endeln mounted the last of the three, a great black stallion. It trotted about, eager to run. The moment Endeln was upon it, it turned and ran several hundred yards. Then it reared back, and rushed back towards the others.
Eldamir turned to look at the army assembled. He nodded with great satisfaction. He spoke softly to Neyteg. "A mighty army we have assembled. Surely the Black Knight cannot withstand its might."
Neyteg sighed heavily. "I fear, my friend, that we have seen only a fraction of his power. In an all out battle, he would crush us completely..."
"Maybe so," replied Eldamir. "But the grace of Arendil is upon us. And the young ones, Arozal and Felimor, they are truly mighty. Let us go, Neyteg; let us ride to victory!"
Neyteg nodded his head, and then turned towards the others. He spoke only simple words. "Ride, noble warriors! Ride as fast as you can! We go now to battle! We shall be victorious!" His horse turned, galloping off. Just behind him was their army. To his right were Eldamir and Endeln, to his left, Arozal and Felimor.
For days they moved swiftly, resting little. Many times did the sun rise and set in the sky. Great storms came upon them, and then passed on. Through it all, they rode on. Never did they speak a word, their thoughts turning always to the battle before them.
A cold wind pressed upon the face of Arozal. His dark eyes gave away the grief within his heart. But still his face remained expressionless. He struggled not to let thoughts of his father fill his mind, yet his struggle was for naught. Images of the past flooded his mind. He remembered the happy times, the simple times.
Arozal�s thoughts were interrupted by the loud call of Endeln�s voice. The young Paladin had gone ahead of the others, to watch for possible signs of the enemy. Now he ran towards them, sweat cascading down his face. "My Lord!" He called to Neyteg. "The enemy lies before us. Just over this ridge before us, the ground slopes downwards. At the bottom of the slope begins a great ring of knights, orcs, and beasts of war. They wear black mail, and bear the crest of the Black Knight. The circle surrounds Elernol."
Neyteg nodded, looking towards the horizon. "And so the battle shall begin..." He drew his sword, its blade shining in the dawn light. The army charged over the ridge, with Neyteg in the lead, brandishing his mighty broad sword. "Be gone, minions of the darkness, lest the wrath of Arendil be upon you!"
Eurisko moved slowly down the hallway. She carried a tray of bread and water. As she passed by guards, she would stop, offering them the food. Then she would move on to the next guards. Now, her load was little as she circled back towards the central room of the tower.
She nibbled on a small piece of bread. It was rough and stale, but it was the best they had. The siege had lasted far too long. They could hold out for another week, at most.
She sighed. In truth, the only thing left holding the people together was her father. If not for him, they would all have died in a futile attempt to defeat the Black Army. She moved up the stairs, struggling to lift her legs. She had nothing left to go on, save hope. And so she lifted her legs, moving up the stairs. Each step, it felt as if her legs weighed hundreds of pounds. But still, she moved upward.
Finally, she came to the end of the stairs. While, in reality, it was only a short climb, to her, it had seemed like miles. "Father," she called to Rengar, setting down the tray. "How goes the battle?"
Rengar bowed his head. "Not well, young one. New supplies arrived today, enough to last them at least several more weeks. I fear that if help does not soon arrive, we shall perish."
"Do not give up," Eurisko spoke firmly. "Help will come. I am sure of it."
"Do not be so na�ve," Rengar replied, lifting his head. He looked out the window, at the dark night sky. "The valor of another is never a sure thing."
"What are you saying?" Eurisko seemed horrified. "Do you not trust the Lord Eldamir? Or the Lord Neyteg?"
"I did not say that," her father responded. "I would trust them both with my life. But they may not have enough power to break the siege. Elernol is not that important. Were they wise, they would ride to Cirtenia, and hope to defeat Oredun while his forces are away."
"They would not do that." Eurisko stamped her foot, seeming overly sure that she was correct.
"You cannot be so sure," said Rengar, remaining calm.
"Yes I can!" She seemed childish, like a young girl arguing with her father over a trivial matter, but a matter, which she would not let go.
"How so?" Asked Rengar, eager to hear her response.
"While I have never met the Lord Eldamir, once did I meet the Lord Neyteg. He is a kind and honorable man. He will save us." Eurisko seemed almost as if she was trying to convince herself.
"You contradict yourself." Said Rengar, smiling grimly.
"Oh? And how would I do that?" She replied.
Rengar chuckled. He is kind and honorable, and so he will save many by sacrificing us few."
"No..." Spoke Eurisko. "That cannot be... He would not do that..."
"I am sorry to say that it can be, my daughter. Now, if you will excuse me, the time is right." Rengar stood up, feeling the comforting weight of his sword at his side.
Eurisko looked confused. "The time is right for what?"
Rengar stood tall, calling to his men. "Now is the time that we have planned!" His voice reverberated loudly in the large, stone room. "The time is upon us when we shall make our last stand. If we are to die, then we mustn�t die starving in here. We go now to battle! Victory or defeat, glory is ours!"
They raised their weapons high into the air, charging down the steps. It was a blur of light as they ran swiftly through the tower, clad in coats of shining mail. They pressed open the doors of the tower, entering the outer city. They ran through the streets, casting open the great gates.
The force came upon the enemy like a great storm, sweeping through the dark ranks, pressing outward. Behind them, the doors slammed closed, able to be opened only by the two remaining on the inside.
It was like a flowing sea of mail, swords, and blood, flowing across the plains. Despite the element of surprise, the forces of Elernol were already failing. They fell, ripped to pieces by the merciless warriors of the Black Army. The sound of metal against metal, cries of pain, it all filled the air. Even as the battle raged on, the sun began to rise, casting a dim light upon the warring armies.
In the glow of the sun, it could be seen that the Black Army outnumbered the warriors of Elernol at least five to one. Near the gate, Rengar had managed to rally a force of some fifty swordsmen and spearmen. He stood in the center of a ring of spearmen, talking to another warrior.
"How goes the battle?" Asked Rengar, knowing all too well that the answer would not be good.
The swordsmen shook his head, a grim look upon his face. Blood seeped from an open wound upon his temple, but still he fought on. "We�ve lost nearly a quarter of our forces. We�ve slain at least twice that number, but the tides of fate are still against us."
Rengar sighed. "I fear that ere the sun sets, we shall have fallen."
The warrior began to speak, but suddenly stopped and yelled. "Watch out, my Lord!"
Rengar turned to see a black blade sailing towards his head. It was too late to dodge the blow. And so he closed his eyes, waiting for death to take him. But the blow never came. He opened his eyes, and saw before him a warrior, battling fiercely against a tall, dark knight. Even as he watched, the warrior thrust forward his spear, felling his unholy opponent.
"Who are you?" Rengar asked, bowing before his savoir. "You have saved my life, noble warrior, and for that I am deeply in debt to you."
The warrior laughed then, not the laugh of a battle hardened knight, but that of a young women. Casting aside her helm, long, brown hair fell upon her shoulders. Her eyes shone brightly, and she smiled, a soft, happy smile. "You have your daughter to thank," she spoke. "Yet, father, you owe me nothing. For my whole life, you have taken care of me. And for that, I owe you everything. �Tis a debt that cannot be repaid."
"My daughter..." Replied Rengar, smiling upon her. "You owe me nothing. For you are my daughter, and my love for you knows no bounds. No matter what, I shall take care of you, Eurisko."
And so she replied. "I thank you, father. Yet I fear now, we must again take up our blades, lest the city fall to the darkness."
"I fear we have no hope of victory..." Spoke Rengar, his voice again taking on a grim tone.
But even as he spoke, horns sounded loudly. A call raised above the noise of the battle. "Be gone, minions of darkness, lest the wrath of Arendil be upon you!" And over the hill rode many knights, clad in mail of all colors. In their ranks were wizards and paladins as well, their faces grim and determined.
The army of Elernol took up a cry. "The Paladins have come! The Paladins have come!" And so they called, as the White Army of the north swept down upon the Black Army of Oredun. Neyteg swung his sword, valiantly fighting off the dark knights around him.
Yet, in their moment of triumph, grief took them. A cry of pain floated into the air. As if in slow motion, Endeln flew from his horse. His mail was stained a deep, dark red. He hit the ground with a loud crash, his sword shattering beneath him. His coif flew from his head, revealing his bloodstained hair. His eyes stared upward, watching as the sun rose.
Endeln coughed, blood spewing from his lips, covering them with the sticky fluid. His lungs fought hard, but no breath could they draw in. His heart no longer beat. For his body was pierced with many hundreds of arrows. His eyes fluttered closed, and he was no more. His soul passed from the world, and he lay silent, free from the pain of the living.
"Do not grieve!" Called Eldamir, raising his staff high into the air. "We must now fight, and only once the battle is won shall we mourn the dead!" Even as he finished speaking, lightning spewed from his staff, striking down those who would serve Oredun. About him was an aura of magic, which no arrow of the darkness could pierce.
Felimor stood behind him, longbow in hands. He fired shot after shot with perfect accuracy, each passing neatly through the heart of his target. It seemed as if he could not miss as he sat upon the slope, raining death upon his enemies.
Arozal leapt from his horse, the holy white blade of Yeteres in his hands. Throughout the battle, it was he that proved to be the mightiest and most valiant. His blade pierced the skin of many a dark warrior, man and beast alike. He seemed to glow with an aura of white fire as he fought, cutting down all those in his path. He called above din of the battle. "The darkness has taken my father! The darkness has taken my friend! The darkness has taken my home! The darkness has taken my life, and all I had to live for. But the darkness may never take my pride! The darkness may never break my heart! I shall fight on!"
Eurisko stood beside her father, fighting the best she could against overwhelming numbers. But even as she fought, tragedy again struck. The blade of a dark knight flew forward, cutting down Rengar.
Eurisko screamed in rage and horror. Taking he blade, she slew the one who had taken her father�s life. No longer caring, she rampaged across the field of battle. Her sword was mighty, slaying all those that would issue challenge to her fury. Though somehow, by the grace of Arendil, perhaps, she remained unharmed.
Even as Rengar fell, the battle drew to a close. The knights and Paladins slaying those before them, the wizards bringing forth fire and lightning to smite their enemies, and the archers firing arrows through the black hearts of their opponents. And so upon the fields before Elernol, the second great battle of the second Great War came to a close. But even this victory meant little, for only a small portion of Oredun�s army had they defeated.
Bearing the bodies of fallen comrades to the center of the field of battle, a great funeral pyre was constructed. Upon it, among thousands of others, were set the bodies of Rengar and Endeln, two mighty warriors of the White Army.
Eurisko wept as the body of her father slowly burned. Her sword was sheathed, and her mail cast aside. She sat upon the bloodstained grass, deep in mourning.
Arozal sat down beside her. "I am sorry." He spoke softly.
"For what?" She asked, tears streaming down her cheeks, yet never looking away from the great fire burning in front of her.
"For the death of your father," Arozal responded. "I knew him not, but the Lord Neyteg tells me that Rengar of Elernol was indeed a very mighty warrior."
Eurisko looked up, attempting to wipe away her many tears of sorrow. "You know the Lord Neyteg? What is your name?"
Arozal replied. "I am Arozal, son of Erozal, heir of Coralis. I have traveled far with Neyteg."
Eurisko�s eyes were wide. "That is why you fought so valiantly in battle..." She paused, watching as the last embers of the fire begin to die out. "Please, Lord, take me with you. There is nothing for me here. I blame Oredun for the death of my father. He must die!"
"I, too, blame Oredun for the death of my father..." Spoke Arozal, growing quiet. After several moments of quiet, he again spoke, though much softer than before, do that Eurisko had to strain to hear over the noise around them. "Oredun stole my father�s soul; he cast it away and took his body. I have vowed that I will never stop fighting, not until Oredun lays dead at my feet."
"I would be honored to fight alongside you," said Eurisko, attempting to smile.
"Then so you shall," responded Arozal. Now come, let us find the Lord Neyteg."