The Dark Lord: Sharfteh

"Sharfteh? The Lord of Norkvolar?" The queen could hardly speak the words.

"Yes, Your Majesty. He is gathering an army together that will destroy the Azarathian royalty at which afterwards he plans to take the kingdom and make himself sole ruler." Here Seoden sighed, "He has also bred an army of fazaraths."

At this the king struck the table with his fist. "How has this happened? Were not all of the Fazaraths killed and their nests destroyed?"

"My Lord, many Fazaraths were spared." Seoden walked over to a section of the wall that was painted with a horse and its rider and stood for a moment. "They were hidden in the deep mountains by dark men for just a time as this."

"Where have the spies been? Have they gone blind to all that has been going on? Have they not seen any war tents, weapon forging, the sounds of war? Have they not felt its thunderous rawr? Have they not smelt it in the air?"

"My Lord", Seoden turned and stared at a section of the wall. It was of a young man dressed for war. He was saying farewell to his bride. They were newly married for she still wore her ceremonial dress. "They have a secret force. A force that has helped him to locate all those who are. . .were. . . spies and even those who were neither for or against him, just fighters, war dogs, men who have no other life but in battle. If a man was not completely loyal to his cause, then they would be. . . disposed of."

A Secret Meeting

Many years ago, when fazaraths ruled the air and threatened those on the ground, a young blacksmith arose from the depths of society and gathered to himself an army. This army he led into many battles and finally engaged in one final battle to end the long war that was known as the war between Heaven and Earth. He and his men smote the fierce creatures, found their nests, and took their eggs. When the eggs hatched, the men trained the young fazaraths and rode them into battle as a secret force from the sky. For many centuries, these beasts served man. And then a man, a soldier, a protector of Azarathia turned his back on his country and changed the world. With a fazarath of his own, a large black beast with ferocious claws and a bloodthirsty eye, he gathered all sorts to him. With a newer and more evil threat in the world, the lords of the four kingdoms came together in a secret meeting within a secret chamber and vowed to slay their common enemy.

It was this very chamber where the king and queen of Azarathia met with Seoden, son of Ecalar. It was a large room with an equally large table placed in the center. The table was decorated with a carving of the finding of the great Gem of Gorthea Dunea. The walls were painted deep red and there was a great purple curtain that covered the only entrance. There were no windows but murals. Murals of great events in the history of Azarathia; wars, famines, births, deaths, marriages. Many things covered the walls of this ancient room.

Seoden followed the two rulers into this secret room and sat at the end of the great table. Silence enveloped the room. Finally the stranger spoke, "Sharfteh is on the move".

The Messenger Arrives

"It is almost twilight", Trebor said as he and Salvania finished their evening meal. "We should leave soon." Salvania nodded in agreement and took one last sip from her wineglass. They arose from the long table and headed for the balcony. Salvania looked to her husband and whispered, "I can not help but wonder if this is a trick. What if the dreams were made from sorcery and were intended to keep us off guard to an evil that approaches?" Trebor wrapped a loving arm around his queen. "No such thing has happened or will happen." They reached the balcony just as the sun touched the earth's horizon. "I pray not." said Salvania.

They stood there watching the sun paint bright colors of red, orange, purple, and pink across the sky. Never had a sunset been so beautiful. It was truly breath-taking. The two beings were so struck with the vibrant colors and the watery clouds that they failed to notice a shadow moving across the earth. It was Trebor who saw him first. "Look my love! A shadow moves toward us in the light. It must be the messenger." Indeed it was. He was a tall fellow, stern gazed, golden hair that resembled the sun that shown down onto it. His hands were rough with years of war and hardship, his grip was authoritative. His steed was whiter than snow and its mane long and like silk. The stallion's legs were strong, a war horse, a beast who had been in the heat of battle. His rider was no different. They rode as one toward the castle gate and when only a few yards off, the rider took out a horn and blew it. The sound resonated throughout the kingdom. It was a sound that jerked the attention of all, of young and old, rich and poor, weak and strong to the one who sounded this horn. The king motioned to the guardhouse and the gates began to open. The horseman slowed not, but rode on with purpose and urgency. He entered the gate and continued to the courtyard of the palace. The rulers of Azarathia had already begun their decent.