Chapter 1 Into the Ruins of Mirea

A streak of small round clouds arced high across the bright blue sky looking like a ribbon of uneven swabs that had been painted against the azure firmament. Along the edge of the ribbon, each nimbus was tapered like delicate silver feathers, giving them a vague frayed appearance. Beneath the clouds, tall brown grass stretched for miles in all directions. A light breeze barely moved anything in the sky but stirred the stalks of grass, causing them to sway gently.

Nestled in the grass were slabs of granite and white marble with gray veins. Once part of a city, the stone lay crumbled all around, buried in the prairie like a hidden monument to the devastation of an old metropolis. A dirt road ran through the middle of the city ruins, blocked by a hunk of granite or a wedge of marble at random spots along the way.

Near noontime, the calm was replaced by a slow rumble. The noise began to build, sounding like thunder and scaring some nearby birds out of their nests. A column of sand became visible along the road as if a dust storm was lumbering westward.

The thunder stopped suddenly, while the cloud of grit and dirt intensified and approached the ruins. Then the dust cloud dissipated leaving only a ring of silence and settling motes to descend upon the area. Evan Pierce and his host of a hundred reined in their horses. Evan, a priest of the Order of St. Michael and a demon hunter, surveyed the broken road that lay ahead. The fifty swordsmen and fifty archers with him were knights of the Order; they sat awaiting his commands, their breastplates of polished metal emblazoned with silver swords gleaming in the sun.

“Why are we stopping?” asked Evan’s friend and captain of the Michaeline soldiers, Sir Lan Falconhead.

“Time for your mission briefing,” said Evan. “Remember the message I got from His Grace a few days ago?”

“Yes, of course. You said we had new orders and we set off for these ruins.”

“Right,” said Evan taking a parchment scroll from under his belt. He handed it to Lan.

Lan opened the scroll and began reading.

Evan,

Several of my informants have sent word that necromancers are planning to camp in the Mirean ruins. Their exact purpose is unknown, but is a matter of concern. By the time you receive this dispatch, they will no doubt have established themselves.

Of particular concern is the necromancer called Jormundan. He has been known to summon demons, raise the dead for zombies, associate with vampires, and give aid to other forms of undead. Based on the reports I’ve received, he is now allied with thieves to steal an expensive gem or some jewelry, most likely magical. The precise details are vague. I suspect he is leading the necromancers in the Mirean ruins.

You are ordered to proceed to the ruins. Capture or kill the necromancers, I care not which, and destroy any preparations they may have made. If possible, apprehend Jormundan for questioning.

Lan handed the parchment back to Evan.

“All right,” said Lan. “What’s the plan?”

“We’ll ride a little deeper into the ruins and then proceed on foot,” said Evan placing the parchment under his belt again. “We’ll have to search the entire area and watch out for traps.”

“Very good.”

Evan signaled to continue on and spurred his horse forward. He wanted to resume his rapid pace west. The road ahead, however, would not permit him to charge down it. The destruction of the old city and the castle that had been at its heart, got worse as the group moved farther west; the road all but vanished under large chunks of stone. They would have to ride even more cautiously or risk crippling their horses.

Evan’s steed, a dappled gray named Alsvinn, responded to his rider’s command and stepped slowly forward, allowing Evan time to maneuver around blocks of stone that were in the road. The knights of St. Michael behind him spurred their horses forward at a similar pace.

They rode on avoiding obstacles. As they went, Evan’s mind drifted back to a few days before when five necromancers had ambushed them. He lost several healers and priests in that battle and the face of each man that had died under his command flicked through his mind’s eye. He grieved for them again and said a short, silent prayer for the departed, hoping they rested well and in God’s grace.

How many comrades have we lost in the last eight years because of such ambushes? Evan thought. He had lost count, and doubted this time would be different.

Ordinarily, he would have replaced the wounded and slain men once the battle was over. This time, however, orders from His Grace, Duke Wrightwood had arrived while the knights were still recovering. Given the threat these necromancers posed, Evan had decided he could not wait to replace his fallen comrades with new men. Any delay would give the necromancers in these ruins time to complete their plans.

I wonder if I made the right decision rushing here.

With no one among the assembled host to fill the roles of healer and priest, aside from Evan and the few knights who could administer first aid, he and his men might not fare very well on this mission. Causalities would mostly likely be higher than normal; this concerned Evan greatly but even the additional loss of life seemed small when weighed against the prospect of some new evil unleashed upon the world.

Evan’s thoughts shifted to his new orders and reviewed them in his mind.

Capture or kill the necromancers.

Capture was preferable, Evan knew, but few necromancers were willing to stand trial for their crimes and preferred to respond to even this merciful option with lethal force.

No wonder I’ve buried so many men.

Putting these thoughts from his mind, Evan sat up straight in his saddle and focused on the road in front of him. The debris in the road thinned and the way ahead looked easier. Evan signaled a halt.

“We’ll dismount here,” Evan said to Lan. “Deploy the troops. We’ll divide into two groups of fifty, twenty-five archers and twenty-five swordsmen in each. I’ll take one group with Sir Ambrose as my second and circle to the left; you take the other group with Sir Geoffrey as your second and circle to the right. Watch for unnatural placement of stone and anything else which may be unusual.”

All the knights dismounted and assembled around Evan and Sir Lan. They all made the sign of the cross and bowed their head.

Evan turned his face to the sky and said, “Almighty God, grant us the strength this day to vanquish the evil we face, to defeat your enemies, and to return home safely. Let us go into battle in your name, to promote your word.”

“With your blessing in battle, we cannot fail,” said the knights in unison.

Evan looked at the assembled host and made the sign of the cross in the air. “May the blessings of St. Michael be with you.”

“Amen,” said the knights and again they made the sign of the cross.

Now they were ready for battle.