Thean led him through the gate to the inner courtyard. “You may have noticed that there is no outer wall on the north face. We built only two connecting catwalks to the walls of the previous fortification. This is because of the unique location of this garrison.”

  “Unique?” Dacius asked. “In a strategic sense?”

  “The north wall coincides exactly with the Barrier which separates the Holy Land from the rest of the Realm. The protection of the Holy Land shields us from attack from the north. It also provides us with the perfect avenue of retreat if we are overrun. We simply walk through the north gate and the power of the Holy Land shelters us.”

  Dacius had heard of the sphere of protection that shielded the lands of Talan. “I am curious,” he said. “Why is the garrison built outside of the Barrier?”

  Thean laughed genially. “Let me guess, Lord Gemine. This the first time you have been to the Holy Land?”

  “True,” said Dacius. “This is my first visit.”

  “Then come with me.” The commander led him to the north gate. Unlike the southern fortifications, this gate had no parapet to protect it, no portcullis to block its passage. In fact, there wasn’t even a gate. It was simply an open portal in the stone wall. As a defense, it seemed ludicrous. Anyone could circle around to enter it.

  A sentry saluted them sharply as they approached. He recorded their names in a logbook, and then waved them through the opening.

  Dacius examined the boundary between Talan and the garrison. There was no visible wall, but the air on the other side looked different, as if he were looking through a glass or into a clear pool. He stepped through the portal—and his world changed.

  His senses came alive, clearer than he had ever known was possible. Every nerve tingled with acute awareness. The vitality of the earth, the splendor of the sky; he saw it all as plainly as he saw his own hands. His nostrils filled with the mingled scents of wild grasses and the salty sea. A gentle breeze flowed across his face like a mother’s touch. The wind, the birds, insects, even his own heartbeat combined to serenade his ears in perfect harmony.

  They walked a short distance into the field. An easy power flowed into Dacius’ legs, as if he were drawing strength from contact with the land. He felt relaxed, soothed. Fear and uncertainty fell from his mind. He did not need to worry about protecting himself; there was no danger here. If he had not known better, Dacius would have said he was being seduced by wine or strong ale—except that his consciousness was focused, precise.

  Dacius knew that his jaw hung open in amazement, but that was fine. A man should be amazed to feel such beauty. He looked at Thean and smiled at the beatific look on the commander’s face.

  “Now you understand,” Thean said. “There would be no point in building a garrison inside the Barrier. Violence is impossible here.”

  He was right. The land itself radiated harmony and preservation. There was no threat of evil in the Holy Land. Dacius knew that he was safe here. He looked down at the vorpal blade which hung at his side. What a useless object. He couldn’t imagine drawing it, using it in battle: not here, not in the midst of such perfection.

  Commander Thean followed his gaze. “Ah, you begin to feel the second reason for keeping the garrison outside of Talan. Legionnaires who are exposed to the bliss of the Holy Land for too long risk losing their fighting spirit. Some find that even after they return to the world outside they can no longer serve the Legion. They are unable to take up arms, even in defense. Some never leave the Holy Land at all.”

  He gestured back toward the gate. “Each of us makes his own decision whether to return or to stay. For myself, it is my family which keeps me wearing the crossed swords. My brother is a carpenter, my father, a farmer in the Tarim Valley. They live in a world where this harmony is just a dream. That world is out of balance, full of evil, greed, disharmony. But it has its own beauty, too, and it is worth protecting.”

  Family. Dacius thought of his own family, long buried under the warm hills of Norden West. Death was so cruel, so unnecessary. It unbalanced Creation. He had killed a score of goblins during the Hordeland Wars. Did one imbalance serve to correct the other? No, it was all disharmony. But beyond the Barrier, the world was disharmony. He thought of his homeland, pictured it overrun with Ill-creatures. Thean was right. That was something he would fight to prevent.

  “This is what I fight for,” Dacius said, “but I believe it could ruin a knight. I am amazed that your men can stay away.”

  “It requires true discipline,” Thean said. “And it is another reason for my construction projects; keeps them too busy to think about what they’re missing.”

  Dacius looked around, trying to take in the wonder of Creation. “Is this the way the world is supposed to be?”

  “I believe so,” said Thean. “The Old Book says that during Creation’s beginnings the races were in balance with the world. Death was unknown and the harmony of the Sphere was perfect. Somehow, a Flaw was introduced to Creation, and the world drifted out of balance. But the Holy Land stayed pure. It is a reservoir of the original unity, an example of what the world should be: a place of sanctuary for the weak, healing for the injured, comfort for the troubled in spirit. It is, indeed, what we fight for.”

  Dacius felt the truth of the man’s words, the truth of the harmony that surrounded him. As a boy, he had been taught the stories of Creation and the Creator, but they had seemed abstract, unimportant. Now, the reality behind those stories filled him. This was how the world was meant to be, how it could be again.

  Suddenly, a scream tore through the night air. It was discordant, abrasive. More screams. They were coming from the gateway. The garrison! It was under attack.

  Commander Thean was already running for the gate. The pacifism of this region did not mean a person could not be aware of danger, or that he could not hurry.

  Dacius drew his vorpal sword and followed, though at the moment he could not think of using it for any violent purpose. As soon as he passed through the Barrier, blue light shone forth from his blade, and the violence in his nature surged back. An Ill-creature was near. “Thean, order your men into the Holy Land! They do not have the weapons to fight this.”

  But the commander did not hear. He was far across the inner courtyard, heading for the sounds of combat.

  Dacius ran for the inner gate. The outer courtyard was filled with chaos. Legionnaires poured from barracks and dining halls, rushing to man the defenses. A half-dozen officers were shouting orders, trying to organize their men, but with little success. Shouts of combat and the clash of arms sounded from the area of the front gates. Dacius pressed himself through the crowd, forcing his way to the visitor’s hall. His men were arranged in a half circle around the entrance, weapons bared and glowing brightly.

  “Thildemar, you’re with me,” Dacius said. “Simon, take the rest of the men and start organizing a retreat for the garrison personnel. They must fall back to the Holy Land. Then establish a defensive position at the inner gate. The outer wall is too long for the few of us to man.”

  Dacius and Thildemar worked their way toward the front gates. As they approached, details of the battle were clear. Four dark forms stood on the parapet near the gatehouse. Somehow they had scaled the battlements and established a position on the wall. They were covered head to foot in gleaming black armor, and the visors on their helms revealed glowing yellow eyes.

  “By the Creation,” Thildemar exclaimed. “Tenebrites.” He shouted at the Legionnaires on the wall. “Fall back! They are shadow knights; you can’t fight them! Fall back to the Holy Land!”

  But the guardsmen stood their ground. Commander Thean was rallying a defense around the upper entrance to the gatehouse. Another group of guardsmen threatened the Tenebrites’ rear, but their attack was useless.

  Two of the shadow knights turned to face the attack from the rear. The others advanced steadily on the gatehouse. The sword and arrows of the Legionnaires bounced ineffectually off their armor. Methodically, they moved through the defenders, cutting down man after man with their dark gray blades.

  Dacius and Thildemar sprinted for the nearest stairs. They pushed their way through the defenders, shouting for the guardsmen to fall back. They broke through the front ranks and came face-to-face with the shadow knights.

  Thildemar sprang forward in a lightning attack. His sword slashed across one Tenebrite’s chest, carving a tracer of blue flame in his armor. The shadow knight made no sound, but he staggered away from the attack. The elf pressed his advantage, driving the monster backward.

  Dacius had no more time to admire Thildemar’s technique. He moved forward to engage the second Tenebrite. This close, he could see that there were no joints in the Ill-creature’s armor; it was a single piece, like the smooth shell of a beetle. Dacius struck toward the Tenebrite’s head, but the creature parried. When their blades met, some of the blue light faded from Dacius’ sword, and the shadow knight’s weapon started to shine with dim red light. The Tenebrite was leaching magic from his vorpal blade!

  The realization threw Dacius off balance, destroying the rhythm of his attack. The shadow knight counterattacked with a series of heavy strikes, and Dacius was forced to give ground. The creature’s technique was basic, but it had incredible power. It was all Dacius could do to parry the cuts without being driven from the wall. And with each clash of steel, the light of his sword dimmed and the red blade grew brighter.

  Suddenly, Thildemar appeared behind the shadow knight. The elf’s vorpal blade carved a deep gouge in the Tenebrite’s side, and then swung upward and struck through the monster’s neck. The Ill-creature burst into flame, reducing itself to ashes in the span of a few heartbeats, and the glow of Dacius’ sword regained its intensity.

  “Do not fight them with power,” the elf said. “Use speed. It is too dangerous to cross swords with them repeatedly.”

  Dacius nodded his understanding, and they both raced to cross the span of the gate.

  The battle at the other tower had not gone well. A dozen corpses decorated the battlement, all wearing Legion colors. Thean stood alone at the steps to the gatehouse, fighting a desperate delaying action. He launched no attacks of his own, but merely tried to stand his ground, parrying the shadow knights’ attacks and keeping them from advancing. But they were too powerful. One of the Tenebrites forced him away from the stairwell, and the other headed down into the gatehouse.

  “Cover!”

  The shout from behind caused Dacius and Thildemar to drop immediately to the ground. Someone had brought a ballista to bear from the tower behind them. A loud thrum announced its firing, and the heavy volt flashed above their heads.

  The missile struck the shadow knight full in the back. A tremendous crack thundered in the air as it shattered against the Tenebrite’s armor. Shards of wood filled the air around it—but the creature was unaffected. It took advantage of the momentary confusion to drive through Thean’s guard and separate the commander’s head from his body with a single stroke.

  A rumble from below betrayed the raising of a portcullis. Dacius jumped up and saw that Thildemar was already on his feet, running for the stairs. The Tenebrite who had killed Commander Thean was moving to intercept the elf. “Secure the gate!” Dacius shouted, taking up a guarding position at the top of the stairs. “This one is mine.”

  Dacius faced the shadow knight, feeling the rage rise within him. His face was hot with blood, and a scream came, unbidden, to his lips. He had to channel the anger, control it, use it to fuel his attack.

  He feinted toward the Tenebrite’s head. When the creature moved to block, Dacius dived to the ground, redirecting his slash toward the creature’s leg. The vorpal sword bit deeply, dropping the shadow knight to the ground. Dacius continued his roll, coming to his feet behind the crippled monster. With a powerful lunge, he drove the tip of his blade into the Tenebrite’s back. The Ill-creature exploded into flames and smoke.

  Dacius ran down the stairs. There was no one in the gatehouse, but a quick glance showed that both portcullises had been jammed open. Sounds of combat rang from outside the open door to the main gate. Dacius charged through the portal.

  Thildemar fought the final Tenebrite just inside the main gate. The shadow knight had a dozen scars of blue fire decorating his armor, but his sword was a brilliant flame, far brighter than the faint blue ember of the elf’s sword. The Tenebrite pressed the attack, and Thildemar was forced to retreat, dodging whenever possible rather than meeting the monster’s sword.

  Dacius rushed at the shadow knight’s flank, forcing it to abandon its attack. He planned to force the Tenebrite to face him, giving Thildemar a chance to finish from behind.

  But the Ill-creature did not meet his charge. Instead, it ran backward, creating a cushion of space between itself and the Legionnaires. The creature’s legs blurred, dissolving into shadow. The darkness swelled and transformed, resolving itself into a long chitinous trunk, flanked by six segmented legs. The Tenebrite loomed above them, a distorted hybrid of mounted knight and giant insect. It whirled and ran toward the front gate, giving its back to the Legionnaires.

  Dacius jumped forward, but surprise had delayed his reaction by a heartbeat. The creature reached the gate before he could close the distance. The Tenebrite’s glowing red sword rose high in the air and shot down like a bolt of lightning. The bar which secured the gates was a beam of oak, nearly a cubit deep and a half cubit wide, but it shattered like dry kindling under the impact.

  An instant later, Dacius’s vorpal sword sliced through the shadow knight’s spine. The Ill-creature flared and dissolved into ash, but already the gates were being forced open. Dozens of grotesque black forms pushed through the opening. The creatures were twisted horribly, as if some madman had randomly assembled body parts from a dozen species of man and animal. The Ill-creatures rushed through the gate, overrunning the outer courtyard.

  Dacius and Thildemar retreated into the gatehouse and barred the door.

  “What are those?” Dacius asked.

  “Vikhors,” the elf said. “Too many for us to fight in the open.”

  Dacius nodded. “We need to reach the inner fortifications. The courtyard is impassable, so we’ll have to use the catwalk.”

  They climbed the stairs. On the battlements, they were joined by a handful of guardsmen who had been on the wall when the gates opened. Dacius took the lead, guiding them toward the west tower. Thildemar assumed a position in the rear, guarding against any Ill-creatures who climbed onto the parapets behind them.

  The courtyard below was filled with turmoil. A dozen or more Legionnaires had been trapped in the courtyard. The vikhors had surrounded them and were slowly tearing them apart with sharp claws and jagged fangs. Scattered among the vikhors, Dacius spotted two more shadow knights, towering above the chaos in their grotesque centaur forms.

  The Legionnaires made the tower without being spotted. But as they headed north along the west wall, a dark figure crawled out of the shadows ahead of them. Drool glistened on the vikhor’s fangs as it advanced on Dacius. It reached out for him with an oversized claw.

  Dacius sprang forward, driving the point of his blade through the creature’s heart. The vikhor screamed horribly as its body dried up and crumbled like burnt charcoal.

  Dacius cursed his luck. The scream called attention to their position. Already, a dozen vikhors were howling in answer as they raced for the tower stairs. They moved much faster than a man could run.

  “Run for the catwalk!” Dacius screamed, standing aside and pushing the first of the guardsmen ahead of him. He let all of the garrison personnel file past, and then joined Thildemar in the rear.

  Dacius and the elf moved backward in unison. Before they had gone a dozen steps, the first vikhors were upon them. The Legionnaires fought a retreating action, giving ground steadily but not letting the vikhors force them out of position. The narrow parapet was their ally. It kept the vikhors from flanking them or overrunning them with numbers. Their swords built a web of deadly light that held the Ill-creatures at bay.

  They retreated until the catwalk to the inner fortifications appeared at Dacius’ left side. He started to move onto it, but there was no way to do so without breaking the solidarity of the joint defense.

  “Run for it,” Thildemar yelled. “I will hold them off.”

  “No, we go together or not at all.” Dacius lunged forward in attack. The move caught the lead vikhors by surprise. He pierced one through the neck, and hamstrung another as he disengaged. “Now!” he cried.

  Thildemar leaped nimbly sideways, taking a secure stance on the catwalk. Dacius dropped back into position next to the elf, and they continued their retreat.

  Dacius heard the ring of metal on metal from behind him. Good, the guardsmen were hammering out the pins which secured the end of the walkway. As they drew closer to the sound a voice called out to them.

  “Lord Gemine, on three! One! Two!…”

  As one, Dacius and Thildemar jumped backward, clearing the end of the catwalk and landing amid steadying hands on the inner wall. The catwalk collapsed, dropping the vikhors a dozen cubits or more to the floor of the courtyard.

  One of the monsters managed to leap forward, catching the top of the wall with a single hand. It pulled itself upward with incredible strength, but Thildemar was there. A single stroke of his sword severed the vikhor’s hand, sending the creature falling to the ground below. The separated claw burst into blue flames, but retained its hold on the wall until Thildemar kicked it loose.

  One of the vikhors still standing on the far wall threw itself into the air, but the distance was too great. It plummeted to the ground, striking with an impact that would have crippled any living creature. But the vikhor was unharmed. It rose to its feet and joined the mob attacking the inner gate. The other vikhors on the wall leaped to join it.

  The Legionnaires ran down the spiraled stairs and through the archway that led to the inner courtyard. The field was nearly empty. Most of the guardsmen had already fled through the north gate, and Dacius’ company, under Simon’s charge, manned the battlements of the inner gate.