Castlevania 1. Siege at Sarn

Authors Note:

Revised 4/25/05

Siege at Sarn

When we are children, we have dreams of epic proportions. Some dream of being kings, some dream of being rich, and some dream of being both. Still others dream of leading massive armies into great battles. As Mathias' weary eyes gazed across the sandy field before him, he wished he had been one of those children. Over one thousand armored troops stood waiting for his command to begin marching. Their objective was Sarn, a town a few minutes march away. It was barely fortified. A wall of sand rock encircled the town offering only minimal protection. Rising a few feet over the rest of the houses was a single tower in the center of the hamlet.

Mathias switched his gaze from Sarn to his army. Standing next to them he looked like just another knight in armor. With a helmet that covered his whole head, his only distinctive features were his cape and the cross emblem on his chest armor. Whereas the other knights adorned their armors with a simple cross, Mathias' was different. Encircling his red cross was a long dragon denoting his membership in the Societas draconistarum.

"The men grow anxious, my lord." A nearby knight commented.

Mathias did not answer. His hand reached for the hilt of his sheathed sword. The heads of many soldiers turned and stared expectantly. Slowly his long blade revealed itself to the rays of daylight. The sword glinted as Mathias held it high above his head. Then in one swift motion his arm came down. At that moment the cries of a thousand men called out for blood and death. He sat on his horse and watched as his army marched and rode speedily towards the town. Mathias alternated his stare from his charging army to those poor souls that stood anxiously on the town's walls waiting for the oncoming storm. As soon as a he heard the first pair of swords clash he commanded his horse forward at full gallop.

He and his horse waded through the mass of combatants. Broadsword clashed against scimitar. Christian against Moslem. Warrior against warrior. His sword drew first blood from a surprised foe that in turn was trying to surprise one of his knights. The knight Mathias saved did not even notice. He was far too occupied staying alive in the surrounding chaos. Mathias rode on. Gradually he was making his way towards the central tower. That was where he would find the town head, Haroun. He would honor him by engaging in combat with him, personally. It was then that he noticed something amiss. Although the fighting that was all around impeded his progress, no one intentionally sought to stop him. In fact, he could swear that some of the warriors seemed to avoid him. Mathias stopped his horse for a moment. No one attacked him. It was as if he were invisible. The enemy held back nothing as they attacked his knights yet they ignored him utterly. Mathias lashed out at the nearest Turk. The warrior remained offensive as Mathias swung his sword again and again. At the earliest opportunity the Turk turned his back and sought alternative prey. Mathias nearly screamed in rage.

"Fight me damn you!"

As if in answer to his plea, he saw a figure in the distance. Dressed in the traditional attire of a man in his position, Mathias knew at once that it was Haroun. The town head smiled maliciously before turning and disappearing into a narrow street. Mathias commanded his horse forwarded and it responded with a heavy gallop.

Mathias found the desolate street narrow and winding. He had ridden only a short distance down the road but it was far enough to realize that the town head was nowhere in sight. The man had not been on horseback and could not have gone so far on foot. He was on the verge of turning back when from the corners of both sides of a crossway, men armed with spears dashed towards him. The spears impaled Mathias' horse on the left and right. The horse went limp instantly and Mathias was thrown from his horse and landed several feet from its corpse. He had not had a moment to recover his senses when Mathias felt himself being picked off the ground by two men. Then he felt the blade of a scimitar touch his throat. His eyes met with those of the Haroun.

"I was told you were a renowned tactician, yet you fell so easily into my trap?"

Mathias responded slowly. "One must experience traps…in order to learn how to avoid them in future."

"What does your experience tell you if I slice you head and place it on a pike for your men to see?"

"I must confess to never having lost my head."

The man once again smiled with his devious grin. Mathias felt the blade of the scimitar prick the skin of his flesh. "I will tell you what I predict. I predict it will be a very demoralizing…cut." Haroun drew his arm back and prepared to swing. Mathias looked directly into his eyes. In his mind he told himself not to flinch, out loud he began to recite a prayer, and then he felt something hit his eyes. Against all of his instincts he closed them. He saw nothing but heard a man's scream. Suddenly he felt himself dropped to the ground. No longer did the two warriors restrain him. His hands quickly moved to clean out whatever it was that had struck his eyes. In that same moment he heard the furious clash of blades until finally there was yet another scream followed by another voice cursing. With his eyes finally open, Mathias saw the bodies of the two men accompanying Haroun. Nearby Haroun was lying in a pool of his own blood. One of the spears that had killed his horse was now piercing the dead man's chest. Standing in the center of it all was a single knight. The blood of his two captors was still dripping down the knight's blade as he approached Mathias. The knight extended his hand so that Mathias might stand. Next, he helped remove Mathias' helmet. so that he could breathe fresh air once more. The inside of his helmet had become stuffed with sand mixed with his own perspiration. With his helmet removed Mathias' long black hair was free to hang lengthily down his back.

"How goes the battle?" he asked the knight.

He did not respond with words. The knight only nodded his head slightly. Puzzled, Mathias subdued his urges to return to battle to question the man who had just saved his life. Upon closer inspection, the man's armor was not of the same design as his own or that of his men.

"You are not from my company?"

Again the knight answered with a motion. This time he shook his head but accompanied it with a phrase. Although a foreign dialect not used in these parts, Mathias recognized it to be French.

"I and the others of my company are here in the name of our Duke Gaston De Croix."

Mathias nodded his head and gestured to the battle that stilled raged on down the street. He replaced his helmet and beckoned the French knight to follow him. Together they returned to the conflagration of battle. The two remained close by to one another for the remainder of the conflict. Although neither one asked it, they watched over one another. After several hours the cacophony of swords died away softly. The mass of Turkish warriors had been culled to a small crowd. Beyond a few that refused to surrender, the battle was soon over. Mathias, accompanied by the French knight and several others, climbed the steps to the roof of the central tower. Together the group mounted a makeshift a flagpole. Below, the crowds of knights cheered as they saw the flag with a red cross flutter in the evening wind.


	2. The Spoils of War

The Spoils of War

Author's Note: Revised 4/25/05

How quickly cheers turn into moans. How quickly moans become silent. Victory can turn into defeat just as quickly. For Mathias, the cheers of those who live to fight another day serve as the overture for the silence of those who will not. Always after a battle the lucky soldiers wish to celebrate their good fortune. However a solemn few carry out the duty of securing the corpses of the fallen. Attended to by squires and servants, Mathias observed how they picked up the deceased with equal care. With the battle over there were no longer any differences between the fallen. With no differences to separate them, warriors on both sides could now rest in peace. In the end, did they not journey to meet the same creator?

The sun had finally set. The burning heat of day had been replaced by the coolness of night. Suddenly Mathias felt at home once more. Cool, dark…night. As he strolled through the streets of the town, he observed the sand. It was now tinted the color of blood of the many deceased. How he tired of the sight of blood. At times he thought he would never be able to remove the stench of it from his person. Blood had dried into his hands. It had stained his face and had washed his sword many times this past year. How he longed to put it all behind him. His mind then supplied him with the one image that kept him sane. Elisabetha. He had not seen her for a year now. It obviously seemed much longer than that. Sometimes he awoke in the middle of the night, fearful that he had forgotten her voice or her face. How could he forget what he loved so much? Could death ever make the image of her pale beauty fade from his mind? He rejected the thought instantly. Stopping in his tracks, he closed his eyes and remembered. His thoughts focused on Elisabetha. Her long golden hair was soft to the touch. Many mornings he lay in bed and buried his face in it. Her skin was smooth always and he delighted in holding her hand or her gentle caresses. She was the gentlest soul he had ever encountered. He loved her more than life itself.

After walking some distance further, he entered the encampment that his army had made near the entrance of the town. Tents filled with boisterous soldiers were lined up beside one another on either side. Many of the men were drinking. All of them were happy and counting their blessing that they were alive. Laughter, belches, and oaths mingled in the night air only to become a distorted symphony. As Mathias strode through the middle he smiled and nodded to his men. The knights paused their drunken racket to acknowledge their passing sovereign. Many raised their glasses high above their alcohol stained crosses in salute.

The clamor of his victory happy soldiers died away as he came upon a quieter section in camp. His ears were suddenly met with the soft moans of the wounded. Surgeons did their best as they worked on lacerated arms and legs. Some of the wounded looked as if they had adopted the turbans worn by many Arabs. In fact they were bandages trying to hide the head wound that had cracked the skull open like an egg. Mathias stopped and entered several of the tents. He held a few hands and prayed with those that he considered the bravest of his knights.

His walk brought him to the entrance of the town. The bodies of the dead from both sides lay spread out on the desert plain waiting to be buried. While a few worked on bringing and placing the bodies, one worked on digging the holes. Mathias recognized the figure and approached him from behind.

"You do not celebrate with the others?"

The figure turned, and for once Mathias gazed upon the man's face. His skin was red from the sun, evidently not used to the heavy exposure. His blonde hair was sweaty and stained with the desert's sand. His blue eyes were level with Mathias'. When he responded he spoke in the tongue that Mathias had recognized before.

"I feel uncomfortable celebrating with strangers."

Mathias nodded. "Surely, you feel comfortable with men from your own company?"

"They are good fighters. But they are not good friends. They do not know of honor, duty, and loyalty."

"And whom do you honor?"

"God."

"What is your duty?"

"To secure the tomb of Christ, our Lord. To serve and protect in his name."

"And to whom are you loyal?"

"Those who I give my service to."

Mathias nodded his head and studied his responses. Finally he said, "tomorrow morning, come to my tent. I would converse with you further." He turned and began to walk away. As he walked he yelled back, "what is your name?"

"Leon." He answered shouting. "Belmont."


	3. Crusaders Duty

The Crusader's Duty

Leon awoke upon instinct. He had slept in many army encampments in his time. There was always noise and activity. One's ears grew accustomed to certain sounds and thus screened them out, as they were deemed "acceptable." Barring any unusual sound that might stir him, Leon would almost always awaken at the seventh hour of the morning.

He knew from the short briefing he had received at Constantinople that the man he had saved yesterday was Mathias Cronqvist. He was a noble from these eastern parts. Supposedly he was as skilled a warrior as he was a tactician. He pondered on why such a man would want to speak to him. He seemed not to be the usual run of the mill noble with an army. Leon had met very few people who could speak more than Latin and their own language let alone someone of noble blood. Only scholarly men seemed to find the time or the inclination to study another tongue. This Mathias seemed to have all the marks of both warrior and scholar. Despite his foolhardy choice that led him straight into a trap, Leon had heard of the great battles won by Lord Mathias Cronqvist.

Leon reached for his cross-emblem breastplate. The cross he wore was painted on like all the other Crusaders but the armor itself was slightly different. Underneath the ornate cross was the engraving of a stallion's head. His lord, Gaston De Croix chose the stallion head as his symbol. It was with good reason. The horses from De Croix's stables were of the best quality in all of Gaul. Leon's own horse, Strider, was probably the fastest in camp.

Walking out of his tent, Leon saw the bustle of army life. Knights, squires, and soldiers all in the infinite process of preparation for the next battle. Mathias' tent was situated inside the walls of Sarn. It was tradition for the leader of an army to sleep inside his conquest, to do otherwise would be bad luck. It also helped that the town was dead. Whatever few inhabitants remained were not likely to strike up trouble now.

Outside the tent were two knights standing guard. Leon noted the two flags flying above the tent. One was the traditional red cross, the other was the dragon encircled one that Mathias bore on his armor. It was a curious combination. For some reason, Leon found it troublesome. The guards parted and allowed Leon to pass between them. He was expected after all.

The inside of Mathias' tent was scarcely occupied. The most prominent item was a large map supported by two posts buried in the sand. The map showed the Holy Land and marked those areas that the Moslem Turks currently held as well as the position of the Crusader armies. Apart from the map, there was a simple low lying bed, an ornate chest, and small table with wooden figurines lying across it. Seeing that Mathias was nowhere in sight, Leon made a closer inspection of the small table. It was a square table a forearms length and width. Etched into the top of the table were various squares. Standing upon these square were small figurines of different shapes and sizes. Looking at the manner in which the figures were placed, Leon perceived it to be a battle between two sets of wood figures. One was made of a dark wood and the other more lightly colored one. He looked more closely at the figures and tried to decipher their secrets. Suddenly he heard a low chorus of whispers. The ghostly nature of the whispers made Leon freeze. His eyes scanned the tent and finally set themselves on the ornate chest. Sitting in a corner of the tent Leon saw the image of a dragon engraved into the gold frame of the chest. It seemed to Leon that the golden dragon served more as warning than a temptation to greedy hands. Leon felt himself mesmerized by the engraving. It was beautiful craftsmanship. Yet something about it made Leon feel cold. The world around him seemed to stop. The desert wind which had been blowing against the walls of the tent ceased. His gaze was locked onto the lid; he could not break away from it. Leon's eyes began to deceive him. He saw the dragon's head begin to turn and face him. Its snout opened slowly and a golden tongue emerged from behind its fangs. Then, in the blink of an eye, the dragon was back in its proper place. A voice cut through the air and snapped Leon back to reality.

"Shatranj." Mathias had caught Leon still hunched over the small table. "It is a game," he continued and walked around to stand opposite from Leon's side of the board. "The small pieces are called pawns. They are essentially the foot soldiers. Then we also have Ruhks, Firz, and Faras'. They make up the higher ranks of the army. Finally we have the crowned figure. They call him the Shah. He is basically the king." Mathias reached and moved one of the pawns on the board. His eyes then locked with Leon's. "Which are you? Which do you want to be? Pawn or Faras?"

There was silence between the two for several moments. Mathias walked away from the board and began to place some items that he had brought on the bed. One of them was a large jug of what Leon thought to be drink. He also seemed to have brought several more glasses than he would seem to need if he were the only person who planned on drinking. Mathias took the jug and the various glasses and placed them on a small table near the map.

"You don't have to answer that," Mathias said. He poured some drink into a glass and held it out for Leon to take. "I sometimes stare at the board and ponder on the very same questions. The answer I found is that we are all pawns in the sense that we all submit to the will of God. Even the king is king only by the grace of God. Therefore the king is also a pawn."

"I wonder if someone would try and tell him that."

Mathias smiled, "indeed. I think a great many people would like for that to happen. Now, Leon, I would like to ask you something. Why are you here? You mentioned last night that you were here to help secure the Holy Sepulchre. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"You don't have any illusions of claiming some land for yourself?"

"Not really, I wouldn't know what to do with land. Anyway, I took the Crusader's oath before coming. I know that whatever lands we liberate or take new belong to Emperor Alexius."

The conviction in Leon's voice made Mathias laugh. "In God's name, I think you are the most honest knight I've met in awhile." He looked at Leon for some reaction in his face. "I hope you know that half the men who took that oath were probably crossing their fingers behind their back. Men like Robert of Normandy, Godfrey of Bouillon, and Casmir the Polack would much rather take the land for themselves than hand it over to Alexius."

"Is that why you fight? You don't believe in the cause for this crusade, only in the protection of your emperor's lands."

"Alexius did not call for the crusade, your Pope did. However I do believe in the cause of securing the Holy Sepulchre. I just do not condone killing the Moslems with the idea that they are savages or heretics."

"I do not understand this…respect you have for them."

Mathias was about to respond but then paused as though to collect his thoughts. "What is the soldier's greatest weapon?"

"The sword?"

"That's probably what they taught you when you were a squire. No, the greatest weapon is knowledge. Do you know what the most lethal weapon is? Ignorance. You ask about my respect for the Moslems. I not only respect them, I understand them. My father before he passed away was expected to take the throne. He therefore spent a great deal of time expanding his knowledge. He learned many things, much more than others of his status. When Alexius took the throne instead he decided he would prepare me as well. As such I have had a vast education. Part of that education I received for a time in which I lived in Jerusalem. It was during that time there that I was exposed to the beliefs of the Moslems. Do not confuse me with some Jannisary. I have been a follower of Christ my whole life. I would not abandon my faith for theirs. I was allowed to practice my faith there. At the same time I also learned what they believe. I learned that they do not hate us. They do look down on us as misguided but they call us children of the book just as they are. They are very tolerant of us."

"Then why the fighting?"

"The Moslem Turks were once the minority in their ranks. They have been more intolerant of others contrary to the tradition of their faith. In recent years they have become the majority and decided that it was time to stop allowing pilgrimages to Jerusalem. That is when our fighting became more intense. They began to make more and more attempts at pushing the border of their empire. Thus we have been fighting to keep our borders safe. Now your Pope has called a crusade. Our goals are the same, yet different."

Mathias placed a hand on Leon's shoulder. "I do believe in the cause. I think the tomb of Christ should be in the hands of Christians. After all, they do not believe in its significance."

Leon handed his glass to Mathias. "You have a very open outlook on things…."

"…but it is not yours." Mathias injected.

"Each man must find his own. You have given me much to think about. I thank you."

A booming trumpet sounded. Mathias saw the questioning gaze that Leon gave him and answered the question that was undoubtedly on his mind.

"When you came here I was elsewhere watching the approach of the oncoming army of Casmir. He was to have met us three days ago. Had his forces joined us when they were supposed to, perhaps there would have been less dead."

Sensing that perhaps he had stayed longer than he should have Leon motioned that he would leave but Mathias held up a negating hand. "You must stay."

"Mathias, you may ponder your place on the Shatranj board, but in the presence of a man with title and leads his own army, I know my place. It is not here." Leon insisted and prepared to leave with or without consent.

As if on cue, a tall man dressed in full armored regalia entered through the tent's entrance. Leon froze where he was, half turned to leave. The red cross on the man's armor was as polished and defined as the cut of his goatee. His slight grin made him look both obnoxious and spoiled. However under the armor you could see the build of a man who was not entirely inept at combat. Following him was a man dressed in a bishop's garb. The thin structure of his body seemed like a distraction. The bishop's gaze was stern and all encompassing. He took only the briefest of looks at Leon, blinked and switched to Mathias as though he had digested all he needed to know of him.

"The Duke Casmir of Socom and his eminence Suchet, Bishop of Le Puy. Lord Mathias Cronqvist, is this how you would treat us?" spoke Casmir in his snakelike tone.

Mathias turned his back to them and proceeded to occupy himself with the map. Casmir's grin jittered slightly but that was the only indication that he was bothered by Mathias' cold reception. Th Bishop meanwhile remained expressionless. Unlike his companion, he had become accustomed to this sort of behavior from Mathias.

"Would you like a drink?" Mathias asked without turning.

"That would be kind." Casmir answered.

"Then by all means, do not stand on ceremony. The drink is on the table."

Casmir cleared his throat and walked to the table to serve both himself and the bishop. Both men seemed to ignore Leon's presence. "Quite a prize you have here, Mathias."

"If you can call a town with broken defenses a prize…" Mathias finally turned to face Casmir. "You should have been here at least two days ago. What happened?"

Casmir took a sip from his glass and for lack of a chair, seated himself on Mathias' bed.

"My men are not accustomed to such temperatures. There was some slacking. We also had to stop off somewhere to pick up more water and supplies. I do apologize."

"The dead need no apologies, Casmir. Your men have been in this land for more than a month. Now you feed me tales of men who do not know how to march in the sun. Fairy stories about stopping to resupply? More supplies for what? The battle is over!"

At this point the bishop raised a hand to interrupt. "In Casmir's defense I was present. He did his best to motivate his men to march faster."

"I place as much faith in your testimony as I do in the Bishop of Rome."

"Now there is no need for disrespect. Although there has been a separation between the church in Rome and the East Empire, there must exist some respect. We are here to help."

"With all due respect, I have yet to see much of that support."

"Well," began Casmir, "we are here now. What will you do with us?"

Mathias paused then mellowed his tone. He gestured for the two men to look at the map.

"Sarn is ours, but as Casmir should have noticed, its defenses are weak. It cannot serve as a stable base for us in this area. Perhaps a small garrison can remain so that we can use it as a look out post, but nothing more. Our next objective should be the city of Tartery. Its fortified high walls would make it an ideal base."

Casmir began to laugh. "Tartery? How in the name of God will we defeat the army there?"

Nodding his head, Mathias continued. "Because of its large size, Tartery has a large army. Fortified walls plus a large army makes for a difficult conquest, but not impossible. We are going to allow one of our prisoners to escape, horse and all. His only choice would be to ride to Tartery. Once there, their tacticians will surmise that an army encamped at such a weak post would make an easy killing. They won't send their whole army, just enough to make sure they get all of us. But it will be enough to weaken their forces at Tartery."

"So while part of their forces are riding here to Sarn, we will already be riding to Tartery?"

"Not exactly. We must eliminate the part of the army that is coming to Sarn or else we will have compromised our rear. No, after our prisoner is released, a small group of men will follow him to make sure that he goes where we want him. Meanwhile, your army will ride northeast towards this mountain type region, here," Mathias motioned to the spot on the map.

"There you will find cover and a convenient vantage-point to observe the Turk army as it rides towards Sarn. My forces along with the other half of yours will be waiting here. Once you see their forces approaching Sarn, you will ride and cut them off from the rear trapping them between us. If all goes well, we will have defeated half of their forces on our terms and then together ride to take Tartery."

The Casmir began to clap, "brilliant. Absolute brilliance!" Mathias regarded his outburst with a twinge of distaste. The grin that permanently grazed his face only added to his insincerity. Casmir raised his glass, "a toast for Mathias' bold plan." Casmir downed his drink in one gulp and then rose up from the bed. "I shall see to the discrete release of the prisoner and then to the scouts that will follow him. Four should suffice?"

Mathias stared at him quizzically. "Four should be sufficient."

"Good, good," Casmir said with relish. He was already walking to leave when Mathias spoke.

"On one condition."

Casmir turned, his grin looking almost malicious. "Pray tell?"

"He goes," he said simply. Mathias' hand pointed directly to Leon.

Leon had remained silent during the entire conversation. He had felt himself out of place among these men. Soldiers do not normally see this side of battle. The strategy, the internal conflicts, and the lack of any emotion for the soldiers they were commanding. Why should he suddenly be privy to this scene? Casmir now regarded Leon for the first time. He studied him for a moment.

"He is my best scout," Mathias said. Leon suppressed his instinct to look at Mathias. "His best scout?" thought Leon to himself.

"From where do you hail?" Casmir asked him.

"Gaul."

Casmir nearly broke out in laughter again. "Finally making friends from my part of the continent, Mathias?"

"Try not to hold it against me."

"Indeed," Casmir said. Looking back to Leon, "report to my commander for instructions. Be ready." Casmir exited the tent as swiftly as he had entered, the bishop following him closely. As soon as they had left Leon assaulted Mathias with his bottled up retorts.

"Why in god's name did you make me stay here? I have no place. I am just a simple knight who follows orders. Furthermore, if you wanted me on that mission you could have asked. There was no need to be colorful."

"I apologize, but I need you on that mission."

"Why?"

"Because I need someone I can trust. Though I have known you scarcely a day, I see in you an honorable spirit with good intentions. I need such a man at my side. You may not realize it, but you have within you the spark of greatness, Leon."

"How do you know this?"

"You walk with your eyes open. I see in you the ability to not accept the world at face value."

Leon sighed.

"Will you do this for me?" Mathias extended his hand. "Will you be my ally?"

"You leave me little choice." Nodding his head, Leon took Mathias' hand.

"Excellent! Now be wary on this mission. Casmir is not what he appears to be. You must keep your wits about you. Do not disregard anything. If all goes well, you will report to me after this is over."

With his face hiding nothing of his displeasure at the recent turn of events, Leon exited the tent.


	4. The Mission

4. The Mission

There are many things that are commonly found in army encampments such as weapons, artillery, and horses. Amongst other things to be found there is the requisite drunken soldier. It is normally a heavy-set man who is atrociously unkempt, even for a soldier. Frequently this soldier does not know one end of his sword from the other. Men rising through the ranks often wonder why such soldiers are allowed to remain in the army. Since they can normally be found straggling behind the rest while marching and they frequently exchange water canteens for bottles of drink, what are they good for?

Immediately following his conversation with Mathias, Casmir sought out the local drunken soldier. He knew, as any other man, that the one thing a drunken soldier could be depended upon to do is be a bad soldier. Snapping him out of his stupor, Casmir proceeded to instruct the soldier to take hold of the indicated prisoner and to ride out with him to some desolate spot. Once out of view from camp, the soldier was to oversee said prisoner as he began to dig his own grave. It was at this point that Casmir made sure to point out that he should begin his drinking. Raising a threatening finger, he said, "you must be sure to drink yourself into oblivion. And for God's sake, keep the key somewhere visible." Thus Casmir finished his command with instructions that he should make the horse readily available so that the prisoner could escape. Later that evening the soldier made a show in front of the prisoner, telling him that this was his last night alive.

Leon sat atop his horse, Strider. Beside him were three of Casmir's men. He felt awkward among soldiers he had not fought with. Now he felt even more estranged since he was supposed to act like some experienced tracker. He did of course know something of the art however not enough to be called the best as Mathias had crowned him. Two of the soldiers were just random knights selected form Casmir's company. The third man was named Kronon. Leon loathed admitting that Kronon's horse was larger than his, but nonetheless it was. This was not even the worrisome bit. While Kronon sat on the horse his legs could very nearly touch the ground. The man was a giant. So large was he that when he stood on the ground he seemed to hunch forward a little. The word whispered around camp was that he was from some savage Germanic tribe. Just from looking at him Leon believed it. The man did not speak with words. His only form of communication came in the form of gestures and grunts. Leon wondered if the man could speak. After all, a few grunts did not make him a mute. As they rode out in silent pursuit of the drunken soldier and his prisoner, the others were equally as speechless.

As instructed, the soldier stopped riding once the Sarn was out of sight. Leon and company kept a large distance between them and stopped behind a far away dune. The four of them watched as the Moslem prisoner was forced to dig. Fortunately for him, the soldier was way advanced in his duty and had quickly entered a drunken state. Not really paying attention to what his prisoner was doing, the man intelligently chose not to work so hard. The prisoner bore his time. Within an hour the soldier had fallen face front into the ground. A few minutes after that, the prisoner made his dash for the key. Under the cover of the drunken soldier's snoring, the prisoner began his flight into the darkness of the night. Instantly the four knights made for their horses and entered into pursuit of the escapee. The soldier was left with one horse and therefore could wake up the next day and ride back to camp mission accomplished. For now, it was up to Leon and his companions to see that the man made it to the destination they hoped would be Tartery.

In the day that followed Leon attempted to create conversation. His attempts were always met with the barest responses and a silencing grunt from Kronon. On the second day they at last saw Tartery. From a distance they watched as the former prisoner rode in "victoriously" through the gates of the fortress. The structure was circular and offered a 360-degree view to the men at its turrets. Its walls were heavily fortified just like a castle. Its fortification was as foreboding as its size. The rock filled terrain that Leon and the others found cover in was a mile away from the fortress. They were careful in their selection of cover. Their close proximity offered them very little leeway in keeping a watchful eye over the place. For that reason, they kept their heads down for most of the day. They waited until dark to prop up and admire the massiveness of Tartery.

Although very few words were exchanged between them, they managed to agree that their former prisoner would probably have told his superiors of the army at Sarn. They would wait until tomorrow to begin riding. Kronon remained silent and just watched Tartery. Leon felt as though he could see in his face a plan formulating. The way he observed the stronghold was not like someone keeping watch but someone searching for a way in. The other soldiers were the first to call for sleep. There was no discussion as to who would keep watch first. They told Leon that Kronon would choose who would follow him when the time came. For now, he was to sleep. Another bland gesture from Kronon was all he needed to just turn in and rest. However Kronon's longing gaze toward Tartery did not allow Leon to sleep soundly. Truth be told, it was not only the fact that Kronon was suspicious, but that it was Kronon who kept watch.

Sleep came slowly for Leon. His mind wandered into a dream filled state, but his ears were tuned into reality. When he heard the slight movement of a heavy figure, both of his eyes sprang open. For just this kind of eventuality, Leon chose to sleep with his back to the group. In this way, he could remain awake without the knowledge of others. His ears strained to filter out the discord of the night and narrow itself to the unknown movement. In his heart of hearts, Leon knew it was Kronon. He did not however confirm it until he turned and saw that he was gone. Kronon had taken his horse and ridden off in a direction away from Tartery. Without sparing a thought, Leon grabbed Strider and began to ride off after him.

By keeping his distance, Leon was able to conceal his pursuit from Kronon. He followed him for a half-hour's ride in a direction southwest of Tartery. The journey brought him to a mountainous area. This particular strip of mountain, Leon remembered from Mathias' map. It ran for miles and began several miles from Sarn.

Leon watched as Kronon tied his horse to a nearby tree and then climbed towards a crevice in the mountain. Leon followed suit, but of course found a more discreet spot to tie his horse. Upon entering the crevice, he saw that it became a path that cut through the mountain and opened out to a valley on the other side. The sound of Kronon's footsteps grating against the rock floor acted as his guide. When finally the footsteps stopped, Leon knew he was not far. A few feet more and Leon emerged from the path. Instantly he dashed behind a nearby rock for suddenly he was in plain sight. Propping up his head from behind the rock, Leon beheld what for him was an unbelievable sight. Encamped in the valley before him was a crusader army. Hanging side by side with the flag of the red cross was none other than Casmir's coat of arms.

His mind began to race through the implications of his discovery. Had the plan changed? If not, then what purpose would it serve Casmir to encamp his army a half an hour's ride from Tartery? Was this the reason that Mathias insisted that he join the group? Leon sensed treachery at work here. Whatever Casmir's purpose, it was surely at Mathias' expense. Now the question was what to do about it?

Leon waited and watched the camp. Soldiers went about their business as usual. It seemed to him that they were preparing for battle. His deductions were however cut off by the sight of Kronon exiting Casmir's tent. He dashed for the tunnel entrance and began an arduous run for the other end of the tunnel. At all costs Kronon must not know that he was followed. When he had left the confines of the tunnel, he hoped that his fast pace had not given him away. Leon quickly found his hidden horse and stood by it, waiting. Within a few moments Kronon appeared from within the tunnel. For a moment he just stood there and scanned his surroundings. Leon's heart skipped a beat as he thought that he had been discovered. Kronon however gave no other indication. He mounted his horse and began to ride off in the direction he had come. Leon waited a few moments before following. When he had, it bothered Leon that Kronon seemed nowhere in sight. Leon thought to see him in the distance but he did not. He looked backwards while stopped to see if he might have over taken him. Finally he chanced being seen and began to ride ahead at full gallop. Leon arrived at his camp without ever seeing Kronon. His two "compatriots" were still asleep. Neither one seemed to have been disturbed by not having been awakened to relieve the watchman.

Perhaps he had overtaken Kronon? Leon began to think on the possibility but quickly discarded it. Kronon must have taken a different route. Worst yet, the man might have known he was followed and used the head start he had been given to find a secluded spot from which to follow Leon.

Leon stared at the two sleeping knights and pondered on waking them. A scant noise broke him out of his thoughts. His hand immediately went for his sword. Before he could draw it from its sheath, two figures garbed in black robes emerged from the darkness and grabbed him by the arms. Two other black garbed figures jumped the sleeping soldiers as they slept. Leon meanwhile struggled with all his strength to break free from the grip of the two men that held him. After a few moments the hand of one of the mysterious men came down on the back of Leon's head. The struggle finished as Leon's muscles relaxed and he drifted into unconsciousness.

"Franj…" one of the men said.

"We will take them to Ekir. He will want to question them." One of the others responded.

From a distance, Kronon sat silently on his horse. A minuscule grin crossed his face as he watched the figures drag the bodies of the three crusaders. He stayed where he was and watched them until they disappeared into the heavily ensconced walls of Tartery. Finally he turned his horse and bound for camp to report. Casmir would be very pleased. Everything was going according to plan.


	5. All's Fair in War

All's Fair in War

Author's Note: Revised 4/27/05

Leon's eyes opened again as they had periodically over the past several hours. Each time he held a vain hope that the sight of a dark and bleak dungeon would not welcome him. Slowly the feeling in his arms would return as they recalled that they were hovering above him, shackled to chains hanging from the ceiling. It was then that the pain would return. It felt as though two knives were being plunged into his shoulders. Such was the extent of how tired his body had become while being hung from the roof like a prized kill. His torturers could be likened to hunters poking and prodding their prey as they poked him frequently with hot irons.

"Awake?" a voice from behind, said. "Good, that means you are ready for more." The ghostly voice of his tormentor then erupted into a holler. "Tell Ekir that the Christian knight is awake!"

Leon's head dropped. His thoughts turned to what new tortures they might have in store for him. Briefly he turned his head to his two "compatriots." Their stiff bodies hung motionless. Leon's attention then turned itself to the sound of heavy boots heading towards him. He had learned to recognize the sound of Ekir's boots. Ekir himself walked into Leon's field of vision. The embroidery on his black tunic denoted his rank. He had spoken to Leon many times over the past few hours. Ekir however was very angry with Leon. Their conversation have been very one sided. Ekir has been asking Leon questions, the same he had asked the others. Leon however has not answered him.

Ekir eyed Leon as if it were the first time he had seen him, again. "Do you think you are being honorable? Perhaps you fancy yourself a martyr? A saint?" Ekir took a deep breath. "We are past that now. I give you your last chance. Tell me how many men are at Sarn?" Ekir stared at Leon and waited a full minute before snapping his fingers. "Very well. Take him and ready him."

Two men undid his shackles and he was allowed to fall to the ground. As much as it hurt to fall, Leon felt relief as he once again felt the ground beneath him. The guards waited to see if he could stand on his own but Leon stumbled like a child. Picking him off the ground harshly, they dragged him from the dungeon.

"Order the men. At day break, we ride for Sarn."

Leon was taken into a courtyard where a massive amount of soldiers were preparing to march. He had slowly begun to regain the ability to walk. However his reeducation was cut short because the two guards that had been dragging him the whole time were now picking him up and setting him on his horse, Strider. The guards tied his hands and bound him to the front of Strider's mount. Strider was then led to the front of the mass of soldiers on horseback. Moving alongside him riding atop his own horse was Ekir. His fanciful tunic changed for garments more appropriate for battle.

"The man who escaped from your camp told me that one of your fellow men had an ingenious idea of making him dig his own grave. I shall remember that when the time comes for some of my own men to put some of yours to work. I will give you a fairer chance than your confederates gave my man." His hand gestured to a nearby soldier on horseback. "Do you see that man? He is my best archer. He can shoot and arrow at any target at ridiculous distances. He can even do it on horseback. My army as you no doubt have guessed will now ride to Sarn to reclaim it. I will let you ride ahead of us. Your chance for survival will depend on how long you can continue to ride to keep out of my archer's reach. You have not been fed and will not be given food or water. If you grow tired or your horse grows tired, you will slow down. If you slow down, you die. Do you have anything to say?"

Leon did not look at Ekir, he only began to speak softly, "Our Father, who art in heaven…"

"Position him," Ekir ordered.

The giant entrance to Tartery began to open slowly. Guards led Strider to a position right outside the entrance. One of the guards looked up at Leon.

"….deliver us from evil. Amen."

"Pray that Allah be merciful, Christian. Our archer enjoys hitting targets where they bleed slowly."

Leon looked ahead at the endless stretch of desert. As the first rays of sunlight hit upon the land, the guard's hand struck Strider's backside and instantly the horse reacted.

From within the city Ekir watched Leon's figure diminish in the distance. Within seconds he rallied forward his men and they began to ride off following Leon's direction. After both Leon and Ekir's army had disappeared, the guard stared at the horizon. Atop the silhouette of a far off hill he thought he saw figures in the distance. For just a moment it seemed as though an army might be hidden on the other side of the hill. But that was impossible; the only army within striking distance of Tartery was at Sarn. Or was it? Suddenly the alarm sounded. The guard looked again and saw that his eyes did not deceive him. An army began to ride in their direction.

"Close the…"

Smoke began to erupt from the shed where the entrance was controlled. The shack was suddenly engulfed in flames. A single man stepped out of the flames. The guard ran to meet him.

"What happened? Who did this?" the guard demanded. Before he could see the man's face, he felt the sting of his blade tear through the skin of his chest. Kronan grunted as he ran the guard through. In moments a crusader army was riding through the gates of Tartery with little opposition. Kronan watched the army clash with their enemies. Occasionally he dealt out a blow or two. However he remained where he was until finally he saw Casmir's horse approaching. Meeting him halfway Casmir greeted the stone-faced brute with a wide smile.

"You have done excellent, Kronan. Tartery is mine. In a few hours time either Mathias will rid me of Ekir or Ekir will rid me of Mathias. No matter the outcome, victory.

Leon had no sense of time. He knew only pain, exhaustion, and the unrelenting rays of sunlight that charred his body. His legs had grown numb to the rapid motion of Strider's gallop. No longer did he look forward. His face was buried in the strands of hair of Strider's head. Leon did not even bother to look backwards. He knew no fear from the archer's bow. If he should come into that devilish archer's reach, then so be it. He would ride on. In his mind Leon thought of nothing else but one word. Duty. His duty was to reach Sarn before Ekir's army did, no matter the cost. Slowly, he lifted his head up to peek ahead. He lost count of the times he looked forwards and saw only desert. This time however he saw miniscule in the distance the silhouette of the fortress of Sarn. Leon had no idea from where the strength came, but he raised himself up and nearly stood upon Strider's back, arms raised. For a brief second his mind pondered on what phrase to call out as an alarm. Leon found his warning call as an arrow plunged itself clean through his left hand.

He screamed.

The darkness in which Mathias sat was not a pure one. It was more like the shade one receives from sitting under a tree. The curtains of his tent's entrance were drawn so that little sunlight could enter. He concentrated better in the dark. Perhaps because his own thoughts were so dark that he felt he couldn't think them properly in the open rays of God's sunlight. He had sat in his chair staring at the map for hours. For him the map was like a board of Shatranj. In his mind he moved the armies like pawns in the game. Battles played out invisibly before his eyes. How the world would laugh if they knew that the secret to his "brilliant strategies" was to play a game. This particular was more difficult than others before. When it was just him and the Turks, or him and the Arabs, it was simple. This time however there is one more factor. Casmir and other crusading armies like his. The worst enemy is one that disguises itself as an ally. Hate began to surge within Mathias. Suddenly his eyes drifted away from the map and to the corner of his tent. The richly decorated chest was hypnotizing. Even more hypnotizing was its contents. His thoughts went from dark to pitch blackness as he allowed a thought to cross his mind.

What if…

Mathias struck the idea from his thoughts. Still gazing at the chest he remembered what his father had once told. "Knowledge is both a blessing and curse. And we are the most cursed of all. What we know was not meant to be known by men." Nevertheless, he, like his father, took the oath, the same oath taken by the few who are members of the Societas draconistarum. The Order of the Dragon.

As he looked on the chest he saw what others would surely discount as a hallucination. The head of the chest's dragon emblem turned and looked to Mathias. It's jaw opened wide and emitted a low growl. The growl was accompanied by voices, whispering. The voices became so loud that Mathias shut his eyes.

"Lord, lead me not into temptation. Deliver me from the evil. Let it not consume me."

"Lord Cronqvist!"

Mathias' eyes snapped open. One of his commanders stood at the threshold of his tent.

"My Lord, an army approaches. We are under siege."

Mathias jumped from his seat and hurried out of the tent. Outside, his men had worked hard at fortifying the weakened walls of Sarn. There was little hope however of the city withstanding a full assault. Hastily Mathias made his way to wall overlooking the entrance. As his commander had informed him, there was indeed an army riding towards them. The massive outline of the approaching army was contrasted by the approach of a single figure on horseback. Squinting his eyes, Mathias could make out the sun golden color of Leon's hair.

"Get me my horse."

"My Lord, surely you are not…'

Mathias did not wait for his commander to finish the sentence. He charged past him and hurriedly made his way to the stables.

"Lord Cronqvist! What do I tell the men?"

Mathias looked down to the commander from atop his horse. The image of the dragon flashed before his eyes. Again the thought, "What if…" And again Mathias dismissed the alternative as too costly for his soul.

"Tell them, fight bravely, for God waits for us with open arms!"

With that, Mathias commanded his horse forward at full gallop and rode out beyond the gates of Sarn. The commander did not watch him go but instead ran back to the wall to order the men. As he yelled out various orders a knight approached him.

"Sir, Lord Cronqvist has ridden out to save that knight. The gates must closed else the army will lay us to waste!"

"No. We must have faith. The gate does not close until Lord Cronqvist is inside. If he is ready to die for one man, we must be willing to do the same."

"But…"

The commander raised a hand to silence the knight. His attention turned to the field before them. Time seemed to slow down as he watched Mathias close in on Leon. At the same time the advancing army closed in on both of them.

One thought trekked across the commander's mind.

"Heaven help us all."


	6. Wars of Diplomacy

Wars of Diplomacy

Author's Note: Revised 4/27/05

In one swift motion, Mathias yanked Leon off his horse and set him onto his own. He then reared his horse towards Sarn. As he galloped forward he could see his men preparing to shut the gates as soon as he was inside. Behind him he could hear the marching cries of the opposition.

The gate doors banged loudly as he passed through them. Immediately Mathias pulled his horse to a stop. Leaping off his saddle, he commanded the nearest soldier.

"Take this man to the medic and then stand by his side. Make sure that no harm comes to him."

The man nodded his understanding and went about following his orders. Mathias meanwhile barked out further orders.

"They will come first through the gates. I want a phalanx of men eight men deep covering the gates, now!"

The knight who he had spoken with before saving Leon was now standing by his side. Mathias noticed him and instantly went about giving him new orders. "You, tell the artillery to pull the catapults as far back as possible. Tell them to calculate to fire at angle that they will strike at what is just beyond the walls."

"My lord, that is incredibly risky. If they should miscalculate by a foot we will destroy our only defense."

"When the enemy break through those gates, those walls will offer us little protection. Tell them." Once again he turned away from the soldier and assumed that he had already gone. Looking up at the walls he yelled out the soldiers who were still up there.

"Come down from the walls. They do not have ladders to scale our walls. They mean to break the doors down. Join with the rest of the infantry."

"Sir," a heavily armored knight called from behind. "The cavalry awaits your orders."

"Line them up parallel to the gate wall. Prepare a horse for me. I will lead the charge."

He turned to the phalanx of infantry that had formed up a few feet from him. "Move back!" Walking to the last row of men he hollered, "I want the front line to start here. The object is to lure them inside!" Mathias then left them to reconfigure and ran to where the cavalry had assembled. Standing at the head was a cavalry knight proffering him a helmet. Mathias waved his hand and the knight gave the helmet to a nearby squire. When Mathias had mounted the squire came to his side, sword in hand. He took the sword that he carried and then regarded him briefly. The squire was not even in his teens, twelve at the most.

"Boy, have you ever been in a siege?"

"No, my Lord."

"Where we will you stand when battle commences?"

"At my master's side."

Mathias looked at the knight who was at his side. He was far too busy observing the other men to notice the conversation between his squire and him.

"You are very young to be at the front lines. I give you permission to wait behind the lines."

"Thank you sir, but my master may need me."

He stared into the boy's eyes and saw a fixed determination. For a moment, Mathias wondered if he had had the same determination when he accompanied his father on his campaigns.

"What is your name boy?"

"Adrian, my lord."

"You do your master honor, Adrian. Now ready yourself."

He watched as the boy walked some distance away but maintained himself in plain site. Mathias' eyes turned to the gates. Inside the city it was quiet. The only sound was that of the men breathing and the adrenaline scouring through all their veins. The eyes of the whole company were on the large doors of the city gate. They could here the rattling of swords and the war chants of a foreign tongue. The first ram against the doors made everyone jump. Mathias instantly raised his sword up high.

"Fire!"

The swooshing sound of the catapults firing suddenly filled the air until their ammunition struck their targets. Then all became silent. Mathias' grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. Another bang resounded against the timber of the gate. The sound became hypnotic as it took on a rhythm of its own. With several more thrashings, the doors broke into pieces.

Ekir's men came in running as they launched themselves against the phalanx of infantry before them. Mathias looked on and in his eyes he saw the men on both sides transform into pieces from his game of Shatranj. The sound of steel clashing with steel was deafening. Above it all, Mathias' voice yelled loud and clear.

"Hold!"

He watched for the last man from the opposition to enter.

"Hold!"

When the first hussar entered he almost felt pain as he kept his sword arm up. When a dozen men on horseback had come in he allowed his arm to come down.

"Forward!"

His legs kicked at his horse as he commanded him forward. Within seconds Mathias felt his blade connect with that of another man's. From a distance the sword clashing was like a symphony in discord, in the heat of battle all sound was completely drowned out and muted by the swords, yells and screams. In Mathias' mind his horse stood upon a square on an imaginary board. He visualized everything in terms of the board. Where others see only the chaos of battle he could see an order in the madness.

For the senses, the first casualty in battle is the sense of time. It was only when his hearing returned and the crowd was not so dense that Mathias knew that the battle was over. There was still some sporadic fighting, but once again the tide had turned in their favor.

"A group of survivors are retreating, my Lord. Shall we pursue?" A nearby cavalryman asked him.

Mathias dismounted from his horse and began to walk away from the knight. "Do not bother. A worse fate awaits them when they return to Tatery." He pitied those soldiers who returning home expecting safety would instead find Casmir and his men already quite comfortable within the walls of Tartery. He had known that Casmir would try and take Tartery. The devious man had been waiting for such a chance for weeks. It was the motivation behind his forces taking so long to reach Sarn. Casmir wanted to make sure that Mathias' forces could march no more and thus Tartery would be his.

Wading through the mass of corpses lying on the ground, Mathias found what had caught his attention. Laying next the body of the knight who had offered him a helmet previously was that of a young boy. Turning his body, he could see that he was struck from behind. The boy had a bottle of drink in his hand. No doubt his master had been felled and he was aiding him. Gone from his eyes was determination. All that was left was the mixture of shock, pain, and fear.

Mathias closed his eyes with his fingertips. "Fear not Adrian, God awaits you."

"My Lord! Another army approaches!" a voice yelled loudly from the city wall.

Leaving the boys body in peace, Mathias answered the call by running up to the wall. Standing beside him, Mathias followed the watchman's gaze. Indeed there was yet another army. This army, however, flew under a different flag. It was the Emperor Alexius forces flying the banner of Byzantium.

Mathias stood at the front of the reassembled phalanx of infantry and together they faced the entrance to the city. The remains of the gates had been cleared away to make entry through portal easier. Driving the point of his blade into the ground, Mathias placed his weight on it. His body was weary from battle. Nevertheless, Emperor Alexius was not so distant family, and he demanded respect, even from blood relatives.

The emperor's forces entered quietly. The trumpeters whose boisterous horns normally announced the emperor's presence were mute. No doubt they feared that announcing his presence would do more harm than good. As two bodies of armored knights lined the entrance on either side, the way was made clear for the royal processional. One fancifully garbed individual after another passed Mathias on their way in. To each Mathias nodded or bowed his head in respect, for each man made up one part of the emperor's personal council of advisors. When at last the emperor stood before him, Mathias kneeled.

"My liege, Alexius Comnenus, you honor us with your presence."

Alexius was a man of no great stature dressed in gold embroidered garb. The simple yet elegant crown atop his head confirmed his sovereignty over the remains of what was once the great Roman Empire. His face, like many rulers whose kingdom is under siege, has weathered and acquired a tired look underneath his lengthy black beard.

"Rise, Mathias Cronqvist. You honor us with you unparalleled victories."

Rising from the ground Mathias kept his gaze downwards.

"I come bearing a gift for you," Alexius continued and then moved aside. His hand gestured to a figure that had been standing behind him. Mathias slowly looked forwards until he his eyes were overcome with the most beautiful of sights. Stretching his arms wide he dashed forward and embraced the angelically dressed woman before him. Before he had raised the veil covering her face he knew who it was.

"Elisabetha!"

Mathias' face was alight with joy. He had for many months only dreamed of the delicate, pale, and stunning face that was before him. How many times had he wished to be lost in the curls of her long golden hair? How many times had he wished for her warmth at his bedside?

"My husband, it has been too long."

Observing the tender moment, Alexius smiled mischievously as he had been waiting for this moment all day. "You may join us when you are ready Lord Cronqvist," the emperor said almost as an after thought as he continued strolling past the couple.

Once in the privacy of his tent, Mathias embraced his wife and kissed her passionately. He held her tightly for what seemed like him to be an eternity. However when she gently pushed him back, it seemed like eternity had not been enough.

"It seems that my concerns that you had not missed me have been laid to rest," she said smiling.

"Dearest, were it not that this infernal campaign demands my presence; I would want nothing more than to be at home, with you." Mathias looked her up and down as if he were still in disbelief. "Elisabetha, why are you here? The front is dangerous. We have only just been attack!"

"I could not bear another day without you, Mathias. Your campaign here has been longer than others."

To this, Mathias suddenly became troubled. He turned away from her and walked with his hands behind his back. "This campaign is different, more complex than others."

"How so, husband?"

"Alexius no doubt has seen the results of having asked Pope Urban for assistance. These Crusaders are overrunning our borders. While many are here for the cause, others are not so honorable. Victory for the Crusader does not necessarily mean victory for us."

Elisabeth walked across the tent to stand beside the game of Shatranj. Picking up one of the pieces, she inspected it in the palm of her hand. "The board is not big enough for a war on three fronts?" She asked with a streak of sarcasm.

A smile crept across Mathias' face as he turned and faced her from across the tent. "I'm afraid whatever Easterner thought up the game did not think of that possibility."

"I have no doubt, were there a board large enough, you would try to use it to conquer the world."

He shook his head slightly. "Not if it meant keeping me away from you."

Elisabetha took in the sight of her husband. He stood there straight and tall with his black hair hanging loose in a fashion almost similar to her own. The many months of fighting under the sun had given him a slightly tanned complexion that contrasted her snow white paleness. As if reading her mind, her husband changed the topic of conversation.

"Travel does not suit you, my love," he spoke with an obvious tone of concern. "You know long journeys have made you ill before."

"Fear not, though my body is frail at times, my love for you will sustain me."

"I nevertheless worry." Mathias insisted.

"Have faith, beloved."

For a brief moment a cloud swept across his face. His gaze seem to turn away from her as he whispered, "yes, faith." It was at that moment that Elisabetha noticed the richly decorated chest that lay behind Mathias. She knew only too well its significance and that of the dragon emblem that adorned it.

"What is that doing here?" her tone suddenly became stern.

Mathias raised a halting hand. "It cannot be so easily disposed." He then looked to see her reaction. "It remains closed and shall continue to. I have not forgotten my solemn oath under God. Now allay your worries." Seeing that his words had not had much effect, he took a deep breath. Walking to her, he took her hand in his. "Come with me, there is someone you should meet."

Mathias and Elisabetha exited the tent together. Standing outside was a young woman. She was dressed in sufficiently elegant apparel to denote her rank as above the common servant girl. Her dark hair was collected into two buns on either side of her head with two long locks going down the sides of her cheeks. Upon seeing the pair she immediately bowed her head.

"May Sara join us?" Elisabetha asked.

"Of course," Mathias acknowledged the nod. "Follow us, Lady Trantoul."

Mathias led the two women past the tent encampments and into the streets of the city. Some of the buildings had collapsed under the first siege filling much of the city with rumble. One building however remained mostly unharmed. Mathias looked back briefly, "we must cross the infirmary." Although he knew both of the women well enough to know that they were not faint hearted, it would have been rude not to warn them. Inside they found all the products of war. Although they sustained fewer losses and wounded in this last battle, they still carried the sum total of the campaign. Severed limbs, lacerations, and pain for a hundred lifetimes abounded in the small makeshift hospital. Under Mathias' guidance, the trio waded through the mass of wounded. Along the way Mathias greeted his men by taking their hands and squeezing their shoulders. Although there permeated an unending atmosphere of painful moaning, the men were all the better for seeing their leader. The sight of two beautiful women passing by their sides also contributed to elevating their spirits.

When they had reached the rear of the building Mathias encountered a knight whom he had commanded much earlier. The knight stood before a set of curtains in a guarding pose. Upon seeing Mathias, the knight moved aside. Grabbing his shoulder, Mathias bade him to leave and rest. He had fulfilled his duty. Mathias held open the curtains and gestured for the women to pass.

Sara, who had been silent throughout their journey gasped at the sight that beheld her. A man lay shirtless on a bed with a doctor hunched over examining him. All across his bare chest were dark colored bruises. His golden hair was obscured by layers of desert sand. The doctor held the unconscious man's arm while inspecting his hand. Loose bandages hanging from his wrist revealed a bloodied gap in the center of his hand. The hole was about the diameter of a wooden bow.

"How is he?" Mathias asked.

The doctor responded in a voice low raspy voice worn from years of yelling while "operating" on the battle field. "The bruises will heal. He was tortured. Tis best that he is unconscious. Moving will be painful until they heal." The doctor held up the man's hand nonchalantly so that all could see. "This will take time, but he will be able to use it. See?"

The three stared as the fingers alternately moved of their own accord.

"There is still life in it. If infection doesn't set in, he can keep it and use it again." The doctor laid the hand at the man's side. "Infection will be a problem. It always is."

"What if someone sees to him all day every day?"

The doctor coughed a low laugh. "Tis possible, if you have someone. I must attend to others." The doctor bowed his head and left them alone with the comatose man.

Elisabetha regarded him. "Who is he, beloved?"

Smiling almost proudly, he answered. "Leon Belmont."

Walking to a nearby water bowl, Sara soaked a towel and began to cool his forehead. All the time her eyes never left Leon. "Leon Belmont," Sara whispered to herself as if in a spell.

"He saved my life. He also risked his life again on my behalf by undertaking a dangerous mission."

"Do you know him well?" Elisabetha asked.

"Well enough to know that he is honorable and trustworthy."

Elisabetha glanced at her husband. "Did he volunteer for this mission?"

Mathias breathed deeply. He wife knew him too well. He quickly shook his head in response. "I brought you here so that you might see him. When he is well, I want you to meet him. I am in his debt."

"His health is important to you?" Elisabetha came to her husband's side. He nodded his head once more to reply. Slipping her arm into his she pressed against him. "Then I will leave Sara to tend to him. She is a most competent nursemaid. Elisabetha felt Mathias squeeze her hand and saw him smile again. She then turned her gaze to Sara who was already performing her new duty.

"Besides, Sara seems quite taken with him." She said with a wide grin.

Sara looked to her lady and lord and blushed ever so slightly.

The pair left Sara to her patient and traveled to the principal building of the city where Alexius had set up court. When Mathias and Elisabetha made their entrance, the emperor sat on a throne that had obviously been brought with him. He was at the epicenter of a swarm made up of his council of advisors. He raised his hand when he saw Mathias and dispelled the crowd. Releasing his hand, Elisabetha joined a small group of ladies who stood at a distance from the emperor and his council. Mathias watched her go before walking forward.

"Come. Join us, Lord Cronqvist," the emperor's voice echoed off the dome ceiling of the chamber. "You are slightly rested I hope. I must confess to coming to this city upon threat of death." Alexius allowed the weight of his words to hang in the sir for a moment. "Your Elisabetha would no doubt have beheaded me herself if I had not brought her here." The council at last joined in the emperor's joke when he began to laugh. "I congratulate you on your recent victory."

"It was a variation of a technique used against Phillip of Macedon."

"Was it? I sometimes forget that you know more about our Hellen ancestors than they did when they were alive. Now, tell me of the campaign. My advisors bring me sad news on all fronts. What do you say?"

"The news is mixed, my Lord. The Crusaders who have rallied in response to your plea to the Pope have certainly pushed the Turks back."

"But…"

"But I do not believe all of them have taken the oath they made to you sincerely. My personal experiences with Casmir the Pole have been…less than pleasant."

"Indeed. I have also had similar news of Godfrey and Baldwin of Bouillon."

"They have not attacked us, but they are quite willing to leave us in the battlefield to collect their own spoils."

Alexius remained silent and pensive. "The Crusaders are concerned with taking Jerusalem. Whether they achieve that goal or not, is not of primary importance. We must focus our efforts on refortifying our borders. It has been our burden to protect the west from the influence of the Muslims. If the westerners fail in their holy crusade, it falls to us to keep the gates secure." Alexius immediately saw that his words had fallen heavy on Mathias' shoulders. "I know that you believe in the cause, Mathias. We must however set our priorities."

Mathias nodded with an air of disappointment.

"I have been told that Casmir holds Tartery," Alexius continued. "Tomorrow you will accompany me there."

Sara's hand dipped the cloth in the water bowl to soak it. She then placed it, moist, on Leon's forehead. She let it lay there and cool his forehead. The fever that had struck him was a strong one. Staring at him, Sara regarded his face. It seemed pleasant were it not worn and beaten from being a prisoner. Once his fever subsided she would clean him and perhaps put some color back into his face. Inwardly to herself she confessed that for some reason he had a profound effect on her. Her mother would call it love at first sight. However Sara did not believe in such things. How could she? She had not even been introduced to the man. For all she knew he might even be married already. Nevertheless, it was her duty to care for him. Her thoughts then wandered on to the topic of Mathias and his keen interest in the knight. It was not unusual for Mathias to take a keen interest the knights under his command. As leader he liked to know what metal of men he commanded. This time it seems different. Sara began to wonder why. Perhaps Leon could tell her once he awoke?

Early the next day, Alexius' army marched out of Sarn and towards Tartery. When they arrived, the emperor made a spectacle of his advent. Parading his forces in front of the gates of city first and then through the streets inside the city. Mathias smiled with approval at the subtle gesture of force. When he joined the emperor and his court in meeting Casmir, the annoyed face of his rival was more than enough to hold back his urge to run him through on the spot.

"You honor us with your presence," Casmir spoke in his sly tone.

Although not disrespectful, the man's greeting lacked any sort of acknowledgement of rank. This was something that did not go unnoticed by watchful eyes on either side. Bishop Suchet of Le Puy jumped in and offered a warmer greeting and bowed his head.

"Ah, Suchet, you too are here?" Alexius feigned interest.

Suchet smiled. "Yes, and I look forward to continuing our talks. I have communicated with the Pope and he has expressed to me his enthusiasm with our proceedings."

"I'm sure he has." Alexius then walked past the Bishop and into the chamber ahead. Inside, the large groups took opposing positions across from one another. A casual observer would scarcely believe that these were two allies meeting together. An almost physical line was drawn between the two parties.

"I congratulate you on your prize, Casmir." Alexius said.

Casmir bowed his head and accepted the compliment. The whole time he was careful not to meet Mathias' eyes. "What do you think of our prize," Casmir prodded.

"I am pleased with the contributions you and your men have provided to our efforts. That is why I have brought some of my forces to relieve yours of the weight of having to maintain this outpost."

Alexius' words hung for a moment in the silence of the room. The emperor scanned the chamber and found several en coughing ostentatiously. At one point he perceived a man holding back laughter. The wide smile coming across Casmir's face could be described as only hate inducing.

"That won't be necessary. We have things well in hand."

"Do you plan on stopping your march?"

"Not at all. I have enough men to leave a small garrison behind while carry on forwards. I am sure with Mathias guarding my rear at Sarn I shall not have much trouble."

Alexius' head nodded. "Mathias will not be at Sarn. He will also continue his campaign. He too will leave a garrison behind."

"I see. Well, I wish him good luck. I will take this opportunity to tell you that I believe that we will make more progress if our armies march separately. I think recent events have shown that Mathias is able to handle himself…" Casmir at last made eye contact with Mathias. "…on his own."

"I agree," Alexius added. "I understand that the men have not been very welcoming. I apologize for that." Casmir held up his hand as if about to say something but Alexius cut him off. "Except for one in particular. A Leon Belmont of Gaul. It seems he has proven himself favored among our men because of his valiant efforts."

"Belmont?"

"Yes, he was taken prisoner by the Turks but managed to survive the ordeal. I would consider it a favor if he could be rewarded."

Casmir shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I will see that he gets…something."

"A title perhaps?" Alexius added.

"Yes, perhaps…"

Mathias jumped in. "I think it would be a great way to cement our two forces in unity of it would be seen that this knight would be rewarded for his service to us. Make him an example of what fighting together in a common cause means."

Casmir began to grind his teeth. "We will con…"

"Consider it done," Suchet interjected. "Nothing more would please us but to improve relations among our two forces.

"Yes, of course," Casmir said in an obviously annoyed tone.

"We thank you for your consideration in this matter," Alexius said before continuing. The topic of conversation shifted towards the campaigns that each side would be undertaking. The subject of Leon was not mentioned again however its outcome left a strong impression on Casmir's behavior throughout the rest of the meeting. Mathias plotted out various strategies and once again showcased his aptitude for the task. Generals on both sides watched enviously at Mathias' skill. When the meeting adjourned Casmir was alone in the chamber with Suchet.

"What is wrong with you? Do you want to hand over our spoils on a platter?"

Suchet shot him an angry glance. "You will refrain from addressing me in that tone."

"I don't care if you're a Bishop or what leeway you have with the Pope. I won't have you compromise my operations."

"This crusade was called upon by the Pope. You will be subservient to his calling and you will respect the cloth!" Suchet was screaming now. "Apart from the monetary benefits of the crusade, we must also consider the diplomatic ones as well. We have a chance here to unify the church of the east with that of the west. The great schism that has divided us may finally be resolved."

"If you think that Alexius is at all interested in reunification, you're a bigger fool than I thought."

"Were I you, I would not dismiss the notion so quickly. The man credited with bringing together east with west would be in a powerful position indeed. Perhaps even be the next in line to be Pope?"

Casmir let loose a laugh. "You, the Pope? Suchet, you can play all the games you like, but do not cross me again. That Mathias must be laughing after this little council. Well, he can laugh all he wants. I promise you. I will see him dead before this crusade is over."


	7. All's Fair in Love

All's Fair in Love

Author's Note:

Readers of this story will likely enjoy the film Kingdom of Heaven, which begins Friday May 6th. Note that the film takes place in the 5th crusade and while my story deals with the first, many of the same issues were prevalent throughout all the crusades.

Leon found himself standing alone on a hill top. He tried to gaze ahead of him to see what lay beyond the hill but there was only darkness. There was no sound. He took a few steps forward and heard nothing. Suddenly he heard the screech of an animal coming from above him. He looked upwards and saw a bat hovering over him. A stared at it momentarily until a surge of pain in his hand forced him to his knees. His surroundings were no longer silent. The bats' screech continued and was accompanied by a deep growl. Although he could not make out a form, Leon sensed a presence behind him. He felt something land behind him. Two golden eyes shined out of the darkness. The sound of heavy breathing filled the air. Leon ran. In running down the hill Leon stumbled and began to roll downwards. When at last he reached the bottom he landed before a wooden pole. Leon stood up and saw that the pole was in fact a cross. Taking a few steps back he saw the silhouette of a woman hanging from the cross. Leon struggled to make out the details of her face but the darkness would not allow him. The cross then erupted into flames. Leon saw that the flames were coming from above. The bat he had seen previously flew off into the distance. Hovering above the cross was a huge golden dragon. The dragon touched the ground in front of Leon and wrapped itself around the flaming cross.

"No!"

Leon awoke sitting up in his bed. His clothes were damp from perspiration while he slept. It was that dream again. It had haunted him while he had been in the grip of fever for a whole month. Two months later it still pursues him. Always he desperately tries to cling to the fleeting details of the nightmare. Always he fails but to capture a vague sensation left after its departure. He arose from his bed and sought drink to replenish the water that his body had unleashed in his sleep.

It was early. The sun was shining through the curtains of his quarter's window. Opening them, he was greeted by the sight of the wide open expanse that surrounded Sarn. This sight had become familiar to Leon over the past three months that he had been recovering from his experience at Tartery. While most men with a wound like his would be bandaged and shuffled off to the next campaign, Mathias had insisted that he rest. Thanks to this, and Lady Sara Trantoul's constant vigil, Leon was able to regain the use of his left hand. He was not ungrateful. The alternative would be a stump in the place of his five fingers, yet he felt ashamed that he should be given this special treatment. He did his best to console himself that he still had his hand and that his recuperation involved being in the company of such a delightful woman such as Sara. His time with her had been a one of kind of experience. Before this he had had little time to converse with women. In his previous service his duties did not allow for much contact with women. And the few that he did meet were dull compared to Sara. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful. She seemed too versed in all sorts of conversation and hold a fundamental knowledge of anything that Leon could speak of. Even in matters of war she seemed quite adept. This was probably due to her exposure to Mathias who spent much of his time talking of nothing but how to execute a war.

He paused his contemplations on Sara, to ready for his daily tour of the town. Since his recovery he had been given new attire. Gone was his stallion adorned chest plate, and in its place was a simple tunic with the crusader's cross. Underneath he wore a heavy coat of chain mail with accompanying gloves and armored shoulder plates. Among the others gifts he found awaiting him when he awoke was a new sword to replace the one he had lost during his excursion to Tartery. Sara told him that the note it came with explained that it was from Casmir himself. He thought it was odd, however since he could not read the note himself he had to take her word for it. There was yet another thing that amazed Leon about Sara, she could read. The knight whose tutelage he had been under did not think reading was an important skill for a warrior. So long as a man could read a map that was sufficient.

"Good morning, Lord Baron." A passing soldier greeted Leon.

Baron Leon Belmont. Like his special treatment, Leon had yet to grow accustomed to the title that had been aggregated to his name. He did not feel any nobler than he did before. Yet since awakening from his month long fever, he felt as though everything that had transpired beforehand was from another life. In other aspects he felt like a new person. Perhaps a better description would be to say that he felt he inhabited another person's body. Sara has told him that this will pass in time. He prayed it was so.

He now walked through the narrow streets of Sarn and came upon that familiar junction where so long ago he had saved Mathias from death.

"Life is a most curious thing," he whispered to himself. Over the past two months Leon has had ample time to think over the events that led him to where he was now. IF he had the chance to live his life over again, he would save Mathias. Although he had not met him, he had heard he was a man of honor. No man deserves to die in such a trap. Mathias' actions since then have been questionable. However Leon did not feel that any of the decisions he had taken were made with any malice towards him. He was just the right person at the right time.

Mathias had been away on campaign for a month now. He was desperately trying to push back the front that their foes had built up. He hoped he was successful. In fact he hoped that he would soon be able to rejoin the battle. His fellow knights from Gaul had joined with Casmir's ranks. Now that he had a title of his own, Leon did not have an obligation to march under Casmir's banner, however they were technically his people in the sense that their army was under the mandate laid out by the Pope. Mathias' army answered to Emperor Alexius. Leon had thought much about what he and Mathias once conversed. He remembered how Mathias tried to explain to him that although he and his fellow crusaders had come to rescue the Holy Land, Mathias' people were not necessarily considered their allies. Leon learnt that the hard way. By placing Leon in between Casmir's plans to take Tartery for himself, Mathias had revealed to him the man's true motives. Leon still held hope that there were some crusaders with good intentions.

Leon's meanderings had brought him to his favorite place in all of Sarn. Over the course of two months, Mathias' men constructed a large look out tower behind the town hall. It now towered over the hall by several feet so that it could offer a 360-degree view of the surrounding area. As usual, Leon found a man posted to keep vigil. When the guard saw him he saluted him using his new title. Leon shrugged. As the guard continued with his duty, Leon proceeded to lean on the railing that circled the tower. He did not know how much time he spent looking at the sandy landscape that surrounded Sarn, but unexpectedly a voice broke his thoughts.

"A beautiful sight, is it not?"

He turned and saw that it was Sara. A smile overwhelmed Leon's face and he greeted her enthusiastically.

"Would you care to join me?" He asked.

"If I am not intruding…"

"Absolutely not, after all, it's just me and the guard."

Sara laughed.

"He's not good a conversationalist. Not as good as you."

She suddenly stopped laughing and just looked at Leon, smiling. "Thank you."

"It's true. Your company has been a healing factor these past few months. I cannot thank you enough."

"It was only my duty. Mathias holds you in high esteem. But, I too have enjoyed your company."

There was a moment of silence between them as both stared outwards. Leon racked his mind as he tried to think of something to say. Then it came to him.

"What will you do once the war is over? Once we reach Jerusalem?"

"I'm not sure. I had not thought about it much. I assume I will return home and continue serving Lady Elisabetha. What about you?"

"Well, apparently the church has awarded me some land back home. I think I will make a trip there. To see what it is that I have."

"What do you want it to be like?" she asked zestfully.

"I want it to be like the home I remember as a child. I remember a metal smith's shack. It was very simple and had only two walls. It was built under a large tree that afforded it great shade. So there was always a fresh cool wind passing through it. That is something else. I hope there are many trees. I remember sitting under trees as a child. I recall being reprimanded for climbing them."

"Sounds like fun."

Leon laughed. "It was, until I was caught. Then it became a somewhat painful affair."

Sara was standing to his right and gently grasped his hand. He responded by turning his head to face hers. Finally he raised his left hand which was still bandaged.

"It's all right. This hurt a lot more."

Despite herself, Sara laughed again, this time Leon joined her. The pair descended the watchtower together, arm in arm. As they went down, Leon spoke again.

"I would be pleased if you would come one day to visit, to see my new plot."

"I would love to…" she blurted out. She then recomposed herself. "I would be honored. However, your home is much further away from mine. I am not sure if my lord and lady would go so far. Especially, my lady, she is somewhat fragile in terms of travel."

Leon hid his discontent. "I see." For a moment, the truth dawned on him. They were from two separate worlds. He was aware of the political and religious differences of kings, popes, and emperors. But for the first time, Leon realized how far from home he had come. To say he was on the other side of the world may be no small exaggeration. The realization that he might one day have to return home and leave Sara behind also came to him. Inadvertently his hand grasped hers. The pair had walked some distance and finished their walk standing outside Elisabetha's quarters.

"Sara!" Elisabetha's voice could be heard calling from inside.

Sara looked to Leon, "I am needed."

"I know."

"Would you care to visit? I am sure my lady would not mind. You have scarcely met with her these past weeks."

"I would not want to impose. Anyway, I would like to rest now."

"Very well then, I will see you later. Good day."

Leon watched her disappear into the lady's quarters. "What a terrible thing it is to watch her go," he thought to himself.

Later the same day, after Leon had returned to his quarters and rested, he was roused by a loud ruckus. Looking out from his window he could see that it was a returning army. After a mixed procession of infantry and cavalry, at last Leon caught sight of Mathias leading the wounded train. He saw Mathias dismount and wave to an upper floor where a no doubt thrilled Elisabetha would be joyous to see him return safely. For some time Leon sat by the window and wondered what news there was from the front. Finally, he just went to bed.

The next day, Leon found himself summoned to see Mathias in the quarters he shared with his wife. The interior of the chamber was luxurious compared to the others he had seen in Sarn. It also had no comparison to his chamber. For the first time Leon did not feel so special. He could see that Mathias spared no expense to make his wife comfortable. The lady's lodging was multi-chambered. The chamber he stepped into was the living chamber and featured a domed ceiling that was common to the local architecture.

"Leon!" Mathias greeted him warmly. He stood by his wife who lay on a large sofa. "How is the hand? Healed?"

"Mostly. How go the battles?"

"That is exactly what I wished to speak with you about." He paused and look to his wife. "You don't mind that my wife remain while we speak?"

Leon looked to Elisabetha. "Not at all."

"Excellent. It has happened on occasion that generals or advisor have objected to my keeping Elisabetha during these talks. However, I hide nothing from my wife."

"What news do you bring of your campaign?"

"It is not mine that I wish to speak of. Rather, I think you would be interested in knowing about Casmir."

"Casmir? What of him?"

"Tartery has fallen."

"What!" Leon exclaimed in utter shock. "How?"

At this, Mathias began to pace back and forth. "Casmir underestimated his enemy and the importance of that fortress. Several weeks after they took it, they realized that the wells had been poisoned. A few days after, the remnants of the army of Tartery returned to lay siege upon it. They knew all the weak points. I'm surprised Casmir held out this long."

"Are we in any danger? Sarn is almost no distance at all from Tartery."

Mathias placed his hands on Elisabetha's shoulder and briefly massaged them. "We are in no danger here. I would not allow my wife to remain if such were the case. Sarn is far too insignificant to be of any importance." He then crossed over to a nearby table and removed a scroll from a satchel. Handing the scroll to Leon, he continued. "This is a letter from Casmir offering you command of one of his cavalry knight units. The siege has reduced his ranks and he is now in some need of reenlistment."

The letter in Leon's hand seemed to weigh more than the heaviest sword. The effect that this news had upon him was apparent on his face.

"You have no obligation to answer this call. You are a Baron now. However unorthodox it may seem, you could choose to fight under my banner."

The baron's eyes did not move from the letter. He had unrolled it and was trying to decipher its meaning in the hopes it might mean something other than what he had been told.

"I do not think that my people will take kindly to that. As you have told me before, our goals are the same yet different."

"You are right of course. However Alexius allows me a certain amount of flexibility. Believe me when I tell you that you would not be far from your goal if you fight with me."

Leon remained silent. His eyes exchanged glances between Mathias, Elisabetha, and the paper. Finally his eyes landed upon a figure slightly hidden behind a curtain that led to another chamber. It was Sara. His thoughts began to pace back and forth through his head. Was the love of this woman worth the risk he would be taking? Did she love him? Did he love her?

"Yes."

Mathias' eye brow rose quizzically. "Yes?"

"I will fight with you."

Joy spread across both Mathias' and Elisabetha's faces. Mathias grasped and shook Leon's hand while Elisabetha bowed her head and offered him an enthusiastic smile. As Mathias pulled Leon into a corner to discuss matters, Leon saw Elisabetha disappear through the curtain that he had spied before. Although slightly muffled my Mathias' exuberant conversation, Leon could hear a joyous womanly laughter emerge from the adjacent chamber.

Baron Leon Belmont pondered the wisdom of his choice. Ultimately, he came to one conclusion. Whether it was wise or not, it was his decision, and whatever consequences or whatever destiny awaited him, was his by choice.


	8. The Lion's Den

The Lion's Den

"The more I think about it, the more I realize that title, land, and a new sword was simply not enough reward."

The words strained to come out of Mathias' mouth. His arms were strung upwards and tied to the ceiling of the prison cell. Leon hung next to him in a similar fashion.

"You grow accustom to it. Especially after the first few beatings and whippings. By the time they poke you a few times with the point of a sword, you don't feel anything." Leon replied in a matter of fact tone.

Mathias turned and looked at his companion. "How reassuring."

Leon managed a laugh. He allowed his head to fall back and stare up at the ceiling above. The irony of the situation was not entirely lost upon him. Almost two years ago Leon had finished in the same exact situation. Caught spying outside a fortress or city and condemned to hang from a ceiling. This time however, the company was better. This time, Mathias would be able to share the…uniqueness of the experience.

For nearly six months Mathias and Leon had led their grand army in a siege upon the city in which they were currently held captive. The city of Lakertia was a crucial city on the road to Jerusalem, their ultimate goal. While he and Mathias commanded these forces attacking this city, Marcus Bohemond along with Casmir were laying siege to Antioch. Both were massive cities with several hundred towers. Lakertia was especially well fortified in that it was composed of several layers of high walls. Each layer was protected by its own series of towers. In the center overlooking everything was a citadel. Over the past several months their army had only been able to penetrate the first couple of layers of the wall. Mathias decided, despite the barrage of catapult fire, to ride closer to the wall to try and find a weak spot. They were captured instantly.

The prison cell door was opened and two men entered. The first was a Saracen translator who during their stay had been their intermediary with the second man who entered the cell. The other man was very tall in stature. His simple dress did not do justice his rank in the city hierarchy. The elegant scimitar hanging from his hip betrayed his identity. The hilt of the sword was the carved visage of the king of beasts. The man that stood silently before them was the ruler of Lakertia, known only as The Lion.

"The Lion wishes you to know that the time has come for your fates to be decided." The translator said addressing them both. The Lion meanwhile circled the two men like a vulture. His translator continued to speak as he did so.

"He has heard of the exploits of Mathias Cronqvist and laughs at how such a revered leader could have allowed himself to be caught." The Lion stopped before Mathias and stared at him.

"You shouldn't believe all that you hear," was Mathias' only response.

The translator continued, "Much has also been said of Baron Leon Belmont. A fierce and skilled warrior, he is Lord Cronqvist's first knight. His best man. His name is Leon. This also means Lion. Tonight we will find out which lion is stronger."

The Lion exited the cell followed closely by his translator. Immediately four other men entered and released Mathias and Leon from their bonds. Once more both men touched ground. While both Mathias' wrists ached from being strung up for such a length of time, Leon felt pain in only one. Since being struck with an arrow through his left hand, he has since worn an armored gauntlet to protect it. Reaching inside the gauntlet Leon checked that a small pouch was still inside. He smiled at the touch of it. Inside was a small lock of hair belonging to Sara. She had given it to him for luck at the start of this campaign all but six months ago. Knowing it is there always filled him with energy enough to persevere.

The streets of the city were empty as they were led through them. Most of the citizenry were required to stay in-doors while the army outside besieged the city with catapults. On several occasions their escort stopped to avoid a stray boulder from pummeling them. The whole time they were forced to walk, they marched in silence. Mathias and Leon exchanged glances as they walked. Both of them realized that they were being taken deeper into the heart of the city. The center piece of the city, the citadel, began to grow larger as they approached it. However they soon realized that the citadel was not their destination. Nestled between the citadel and another large building was an arena. Lining the entranceway into the arena were two columns of statues. The statues were all half-destroyed or knocked over. The sounds of a roaring public greeted them as they entered the arena. Their escorts walked them into the interior of the grand theatre and then departed. The seats of the arena were filled with people. Some were yelling, others just sat quietly observing the two minuscule figures that occupied the center stage. The audience was seated in bleachers that were elevated at least 15 feet above the ground floor.

"I feel like I have stepped into the past," Mathias said.

"Really? Any other observations?" Leon responded as sarcastically as he could.

"Just that everything is going exactly as planned."

Leon nodded his head. "So remind me, exactly how are two fools thrown into an arena represented on that Shatranj board of yours?"

"All right, so I did not know about the arena, but he is still acting exactly as I predicted he would. He wants a fight, and you my friend are going to give it to him."

"Have I mentioned how much I loathe your confidence in me?"

"On occasion."

Their conversation was cut short by the booming voice of the translator. This time he spoke in his own tongue and addressed the audience. He stood side by side with The Lion in a special box overlooking the arena. Finally he directed himself to the two knights.

"This arena is a small remnant of the once vast Roman empire. It is now but a broken and crumbling shadow of its former self. Just like the legacy that the empire left in its wake. It is fitting that you should meet your fates here, where some of your predecessors have fallen before."

From below the bleachers a large gateway was opened. From within the chamber beyond the gateway a howl resonated. Four men walked into the arena dragging a length of chain. At the end of the chain was a lion. Its hunger was evident from the ferocity with which it struggled with its keepers. A fifth man accompanied the chain draggers and would periodically whip the animal. When the lion wrangler ceased striking him, the lion suddenly had a ferocious outburst. Shaking his head violently from left to right, it was revealed that the chains hung from a collar around his neck. By shaking his head it caused the men who were holding the chains to soar in different directions throughout the arena. One of the men landed not far from Mathias and Leon. The two stared at the motionless body and noted how the neck had been broken on impact. With a crack from his whip, the wrangler motioned the lion towards the pair of knights. In a menacingly slow pace, the lion approached them.

"I'm not familiar with the habits of lions, but I think we should split up. Two targets are always harder than one." Mathias suggested.

"You run for it. I'll try to keep him occupied." Leon counseled.

"Good luck," Mathias said grasping his arm for a moment. Then, with all his energy he sprinted off in a direction away from the animal. Instantly the lion leapt forward as if to attack but Leon came running forwards.

"Here! Look at me!" Leon yelled while waving his arms.

The lion jerked its head to the left causing the chains to swing in an arc through the air. Leon dodged them as if he were battling the tentacles of an octopus. Enraged, the lion charged at Leon. Barely recovered from dodging the chains, he nearly missed the chance of jumping out of its way. However, not being able to control his jump, Leon hit the ground flat instead of in a roll. For a moment he lay stunned on the sandy ground of the arena. The sudden feeling of being dragged by the leg roused him. Looking at his leg he saw that one of the lion's chains had tied itself around his ankle. The length of the chain meant that he did feel himself being dragged so quickly, however the lion soon picked up its speed as it began to chase Mathias around the arena. As the animal did so, Leon felt his back crash against the surface of various sized rocks that were littered throughout the stage of the arena. Leon struggled to sit up in order to untie the chain from his ankle but the speed and the colliding rocks prevented him. Finally, he spied that the lion's course would thrust him onto an especially large rock half buried underneath the sand. Bending his arm and holding his elbow out, Leon managed make the sharp elbow end of his gauntlet protrude. Just as he felt his leg strike the surface of the large rock he jabbed his arm so as to dig the keen end of the gauntlet into the rock. He gasped momentarily as he felt his arm being pulled out of its socket. The lion suddenly stopped its motion and turned to face Leon. For the moment, Leon felt relief. However, no sooner had he caught a moment's respite, the lion came charging towards him once more. Frantically Leon sat up to untie himself from the chain. The lion's sweltering breath was upon Leon as he dashed out of the lion's rampage and it crashed head first into the rock.

The crowd stood up on its feet screaming. Leon could not say if they were cheering or admonishing him. The wrangler came running to the lion's aid. As he approached the animal, Mathias jumped him from behind. The two struggled for a time but eventually Mathias grabbed a knife that the man had sheathed in his belt and stabbed him with it. Mathias kept the knife and grabbed the whip from the wrangler's dead hands. Leon was still lying beside the lion that was slow to recover.

"Leon!" Mathias called out and tossed the whip in his direction.

Barely catching it in his hand, Leon stared at it quizzically.

"Remember the plan!" Mathias yelled as he ran off.

"The plan. I hate this plan." Leon muttered to himself.

The lion suddenly recovered its wits and snarled at Leon.

"I hate all his plans," Leon exclaimed and then turned to the lion. "Now you, if you are so hungry, let's get you fed!" Copying the wrangler's fashion, Leon began to crack the whip against the floor to get the lion's attention. The lion just continued to bellow. Leon lashed at its side. The animal continued its cry but began to move. A way to control the animal suddenly became apparent. Using the whip to command it, Leon moved the lion to the bleachers. To this the audience began to panic. Many began to flee the arena. Everywhere chaos began to have its affect, except in one spot. The Lion had been observing the conflict with great interest. When Leon had pushed the animal to the edge of the seating, he began to strike at the lion's feet. Instantly the lion began to try and stand on two feet and scramble to climb upwards. The audience immediately above the lion became horrified. As they scrambled to escape the lion's ever reaching claws some people thrown over the side of the bleachers and fell into the lion's reach. As Leon saw the lion feeding on one of the audience he ceased his lashing. He turned and looked towards the special viewing box. The Lion was grinning.

"Come on, let's see if your stronger than this lion," Leon said as he gestured for the Lion to come down into the arena.

The desert warrior unsheathed his scimitar and then leapt down from his box. Answering a call from his master, the translator tossed another blade down to him. The Lion's grin was replaced with a piercing gaze as he gradually walked towards his foe. Leon caught the scimitar that his opponent proffered him. The two stared at one other with just a few feet between them. At last, Leon dropped the whip which he had still been holding. The Lion reacted by swinging his blade down upon him. Although not accustomed to the way the blade was weighted he managed to block the attack. The blades clashed and Leon struggled to keep up with his enemy. Leon's lack of skill with this type of blade worked against him. His parries were sluggish and always too close for comfort. The Lion's speed was also incredible and kept Leon alert at all times. In a surprise move, the Lion swung his blade downwards. Leon jumped to avoid losing both his feet. With his upper torso vulnerable, Leon made a dash at it with his blade. He successfully managed to cut a gash across the Lion's chest. First blood was his. With a growl that fitted his name, the Lion intensified his attacks. By now Leon had gotten use to the blade's weight distribution. He was now able to keep up with the Lion and perhaps even give him the fight he was looking for. Suddenly, when Leon thought he was getting the upper hand the roar of the animal lion parted their blades. The beast had finished gnawing its previous victim and seemed enthusiastic for more. The Lion tried to calm the animal with phrases that Leon could not understand but it seemed to have little effect. The lion began to use his chains to attack both his targets. While dodging the chains, Leon leapt for the whip he had dropped. His human opponent went for the same and thrust his blade forward to deflect Leon's hand. The lion's intervention once again separated the two men but allowed Leon the room he needed to grab the whip. With it in hand, Leon encouraged the lion to attack its former master. The Lion used his scimitar defensively against the swirling chains that were attacking him. Ultimately the blade was caught by one of them and torn from his grasp. As the lion leapt forward for the kill, his human foe unleashed a hidden knife from his boot. The blade was of little use. The animal was already digging its teeth into his leg when the Lion managed to stab the beast in its torso. The wounded lion sank to the ground with the leg still caught in its clasp. The Lion's eyes were still opened and followed Leon with his gaze as he approached. Leon circled around him and the eyes remained still.

"Now we know," he said as he patted the furry head of the injured lion.

Although depleted of citizenry, the streets of the city were littered with guards. Mathias spent most of his time using stealth to avoid them. After much trickery and grasping to walls and shadows, he reached his destination. The mechanism to open one of the gates to the city was situated in a tower built into the innermost layer of the city wall. Using the knife he procured from the lion wrangler, Mathias slit a solitary guard's throat and used his garb as disguise. Entering unchallenged into the tower it was easy to climb up to the quarter with the apparatus to open the doors. There were two men guarding it. Quietly, Mathias came up behind them and stabbed them both using his knife and a scimitar he had obtained. Within moments he managed to operate the opening device. With the gate wide open, his army would at last be able to charge in and take the city. As Mathias heard the cries of his attacking forces, he smiled.

" Everything is going according to plan."

The siege that had taken months, quickly transformed into a day long battle. The crusader forces stormed the city and over a period of two days quelled the city resistance to an acceptable level. Without The Lion alive to surrender the city, many of the soldiers refused to give up. Taking the city intact was not of great importance. What was important was making sure that there was no large opposing force to follow them on their way to Jerusalem.

Shortly after Mathias' army entered the city, a path was cleared to the arena. It was there that they found Leon lying beside the two lions. He was taken back to the encampment that had been made outside the city. There both he and Mathias finally rested. After resting for several hours, Leon stirred himself awake and walked out of his tent. Standing alone atop a nearby desert mound was Mathias.

"What news," Leon asked as he approached him from behind.

"Lakertia is nearly ours. Things are well."

"Why then do you appear disappointed?"

"I have a feeling that we will be called to Antioch. The siege there is not going well. I fear I will be called into to help in a battle that I will have no reward for participating in."

"That is harsh." Leon allowed a moment of silence. "Would it have more to do with having to help a swine like Casmir?"

Now Mathias turned and tried to hide a subtle grin. "You know me well." He turned and began to descend from the mound. Leon followed. "Tonight I placed in you in some peril."

"No more than usual. You and your plans as usual..."

"Have you ever thought in all this time that I would place you in a situation that you could not get out of?"

"Of course not. Unlikely as it may seem, we are friends. I trust you with my life. In fact I seem to entrust you with my life quite often."

"I sometimes need that reassurance. Elisabetha says I should remind myself of my…humanity is what she calls it. Also I think Sara would have something to say if I sent you to your death."

"That she would." Leon's hand unconsciously grabbed the lock of Sara's hair that he kept in his gauntlet. He began to carry it in his hand as they walked. The pair of them entered Mathias' tent. Leon seated himself while his friend went about the business of reviewing the many piles of papers lying about his table. Maps, reconnaissance reports, and battle reports filled his vision. He quickly scanned through some and devoted attention and detail to others. Leon meanwhile sat in his seat seemingly lost in his thoughts. Mathias broke away from his work to glance at his love struck friend. He recognized these frequent lapses from reality that Leon entered. He also knew the cause. Sara had a strong hypnotic effect on Leon similar to the one Elisabetha had on Mathias. After perusing the paper in his hand, Mathias crumbled it and threw it at Leon. The paper ball struck Leon in the head. He faced Mathias.

"I seem to recall Sara teaching you to read some. Why don't you quit day dreaming and help get through some of these papers."

Leon grinned. "All right. I look through some of this correspondence. Maybe we missed something while we were captured."

"More likely looking for a love letter from your beloved."

He did not answer Mathias but merely began to search mail looking for something from Sara, just as had been predicted. As he did so, a dispatch caught his attention. He opened it and began to read it. "Oh no," he said weakly. "Mathias."

The man was too caught up in his reading to look up. Leon rose from his seat and walked over to him. Clasping his shoulder he thrust the paper he held on top of the one that Mathias has been reading. Mathias was surprised and looked up at Leon who continued to stare down at the sheet that was in his hand. Mathias' gaze eventually followed his and read the letter.

_Lord Mathias Cronqvist or Baron Belmont,_

_Return to Sarn at once. Elisabetha has taken ill._

Both looked on horrified as they saw the letter was dated a week old.

The two men grabbed their gear and stormed out of the tent. Their minds worked in unison. Leon fetched two horses from the stables while Mathias left orders for his army. Leaving his company of knights in command, he told them to follow him back to Sarn when they had finished their work in Lakertia.

"When did this communication from Sarn arrive?" Mathias demanded of one of his officers.

"Shortly after you were captured, my lord."

He pondered on this for a moment. "Why was I not told of this letter upon returning here?"

The officer was at a loss for words. "It did not appear to be urgent."

Mathias grabbed the officer by the throat. "My wife is at Sarn, anything coming from there is urgent. Do you understand!" The man nodded subtly as he was choked.

At last Leon arrived with the horses. He found Mathias still holding the officer in his grip. He had never seen Mathias lash out at one of his own men. "Mathias!" he called out.

Leon's voice seemed to have an affect. The enraged noble released the man from his grasp. He glanced at Leon. The expression that met him shamed him. Yet despite his embarrassment he whispered to a nearby knight. "Have this man whipped, twenty lashes."

After mounting on the horse that Leon provided, Mathias did not exchange words with his companion for sometime. When he finally did, he refused to speak on the matter of his outburst. The pair journeyed day and night in order to arrive at Sarn sooner. The few times that they did rest, Leon knelt on the ground and prayed to God that they would arrive and find Mathias' beloved alive and recuperating. He prayed for his friend. If the brief outburst he had witnessed was only a glimpse of his anger manifested, heaven help the world should they arrive too late.


	9. The Descent

The Descent

She is alive.

The desert never looked more lonesome or desolate. It looked unwelcome and foreboding. It was dark. His mind and heart were racing. Why did he feel elated to be in darkness? His wife could be dying. No!

She must be alive.

Without her the world would truly be in darkness, a pure black bed sheet covering his eyes while he walked in eternal sleep. A living slumber from which he knew he could never wake.

Once, long ago, he gave her a ring. She held it in her delicate hand and saw only a beautiful ring. But it was more. Using arts that had been passed down to him, he placed an incantation upon it. He said to her,

"You and I will be together, now and forever. Our souls are like one. Where you go, I follow. Where I go, you will follow."

He clutched his ring. Sarn was upon them. Leon had ridden by his side the entire journey. He did not speak to him. Only a glance into his eyes and he could tell that Leon had been dismayed by his actions back at the camp. For Mathias the world seemed to be enshrouded in silence. He did not hear guards opening the gate. He did not hear the voices calling out to him. He rushed inside and quickly dismounted from his horse. He ran for the stairs leading to her quarters and left Leon behind. A large group of people stood huddled around the door to Elisabetha's chambers. In his trance like state, Mathias brushed passed them all disregarding proffered hands and condolences.

The bed chamber was scented with incense. Covering the bed itself was a thin veil through which Mathias could see the shape of his beloved. He noted her figure was motionless. The local priest stood nearby with his two acolytes. He rose from where he was kneeled and made the sign of the cross. He turned and was surprised to find Mathias standing behind him. Maintaining his composure the priest began, "Lord Cronqvist, I am so…"

The priest was cut off by Mathias' desperate howl. The master strategist and noble warrior fell to his knees at the bed's side. The air was filled with his grief stricken wail. Leon burst into the room and found his friend on the ground. Mathias grabbed at the veil and soaked it with his tears. Leon also began to feel moved by the scene and felt a tear falling down his own cheek. Suddenly he felt his hand was grasped by another. Sara stood by him. The discoloration of her face was evidence enough of her grief. Together they stood in silence as Mathias proclaimed his beloved's passing with the hymn of his anguish.

Unable to stand idle, the priest walked towards Mathias. Leon tried to warn him but it was to no avail. The priest's hand touched the grieving noble's shoulder. In a flash a blade was unsheathed and slashed the top of his hand. The priest staggered back in shock. Leon stepped forward and grabbed a hold of Mathias' armed hand as he stood up.

"Get out!" he exclaimed wildly. "All of you!"

Already struggling, "Mathias, get a hold of yourself!" Leon pleaded.

The crowd outside did not need much incentive, for they dispersed quickly. Even the priest, quickly attended to by his acolytes, exited the room. Only Sara remained behind, refusing to budge without Leon.

Staring into his bloodshot eyes, Leon struggled to find a little trace of his cool and sensible compatriot. However that Mathias seemed lost amongst the throes of angst.

"What would she want? Think! Would she want you to be like this? Think of Elisabetha!"

The name echoed in Mathias' ear. It had a calming effect. For a moment, the waves of anger and despair subsided within him. For a moment, he was himself again. Leaning on his friend, Mathias made a soft spoken request.

"Leave me. I need to be alone with her. Just for some time."

"Will you be all right alone?" Leon asked.

"I wish to mourn her, in peace and solace, Leon. Give me that."

Reluctantly, he nodded. "Very well, but remember, I am here when you need me."

Mathias led both Leon and Sara to exit the quarter. Subtly he tried to hurry them however they took their time walking out. Finally, he closed the door behind them and found himself face to face with a crucifix hanging from the door. Teeth grinding, his hand snatched the cross from the door. He then rushed back into the bed chamber and threw the cross to the ground. The knife he had cut the priest with lay on the ground. He dropped it when Leon grabbed his hand. The knife lay there, blood stained. He knelt and picked it up from the ground and proceeded to stand above the cross.

Sometime after he met Elisabetha, after he realized that he loved her, he made her a promise. It was a difficult promise to make. It went against an oath that he swore to his father. Now, he would have to break both promises. In a swift and silent motion, he stabbed the cross with the bloody knife. His eyes closed for a moment. When they reopened he turned and found his old chest waiting for him. The chest did not have a lock; however it would not open for anyone else. From inside, he lifted a large book. The book itself was deceiving to look at. It simple outward appearance disguised the many secrets hidden within. This was a book not to be found in any library on the face of this world. It had been passed onto him by his father. The passages within have been culled together from years of oral tradition. Mathias had hoped that he would be able to add to the secret arts already recorded there, as his father asked him too. However, fate intervened and he turned his back on the expansive knowledge open to him and exchanged it for the love of one woman. He would not allow his sacrifice to be for naught. Turning the pages of the book, he found the passage he needed. Speaking out an incantation in a language rarely spoken aloud on this plane, Mathias made the call.

Silence enveloped the room. Mathias considered that perhaps he had spoken the words incorrectly. He closed the book and kneeled beside his love's corpse. Moving aside the protective veil, his hand touched her face. The coldness of her flesh sent a chill through his body. He felt himself ready to cry again when suddenly he felt a strong gust of wind. Looking to the entrance of the bedchamber he saw a whirlpool of light form inside the doorway. The whirlpool became a portal and Mathias felt all of reality shift. The walls all around him disappeared and were swallowed whole by the vortex that formed beneath him. The only part of the room that remained was Elisabetha on her deathbed. An inhuman screech accompanied the enormous figure which materialized before him. The figure was a dry skeleton clinging to the last vestiges of its tarnished clothing. Once elegantly dressed in life, now it was but a shadow of its former self. Mathias recognized the creature as the one fabled to have been the first to die, yet forever dying, and yet still unable to die. Carrying his scythe and traveling through all planes reaping the world of excess souls, it was Death standing before him.

"Who dares to call upon me?"

"I, Mathias Cronqvist, prince by blood, and last living Knight of the Societas draconistarum, summoned you."

"Bah, a useless title owing to a forgotten order."

Mathias held up the book. "You know what is written in this book. You will hear me out."

"Speak insolent fleshling. My patience grows thin."

"I come to reclaim the soul of my wife."

Death remained silent.

"She was wrongfully taken from me. I will have her back. Return her now, or face the consequences." Mathias said standing his ground.

"Foolish mortal, you know not what you ask. You presume to be my master!" Death's skeletal hand reached out and picked up Mathias from the non-existent floor. "You know nothing of life or Death!"

"Give her to me!" Mathias cried.

"I bring death, not life. Only one may bring life and He will not. Your wife is dead. Her time is passed. Accept it."

"No! I refuse. You say only one may bring life? It is God you speak of; I know it. If he will not give her back to me then I will curse his name. I will refute all that he is!"

Death's laugh was unlike anything Mathias had heard before. Committed though he was in his words, he felt afraid. "You are mad, mortal. You wish to dethrone Him? He is master of life and as well as Death."

"I will. I will become his antagonist, his bane. And I will begin by mastering Death!"

"Foolish human, a worm such as you may not master me!"

Mathias stared into Death's cavernous eyes. "We shall see. You are correct in saying that I am now but a worm. A year from now I will call you again. When I do, you will call me, Master."

The screech that had announced Death's entrance book ended his exit as well. Disappearing into a portal, Mathias was quickly surrounded once more by the familiar surroundings of his bedchamber. The experience left Mathias drained and he felt compelled to fall to his knees in exhaustion. Tired beyond description he could not hold back the tears that fell streaming down his face. Crawling to Elisabetha's side he whispered to her.

"I am sorry, my love. I am so sorry. Sorry that I was not here. Sorry for what I have done. Sorry for what I must become. I cannot live without you. Understand, this world is a vacuum without you. I am in darkness when you are not at my side. All I see is the darkness in men's hearts, especially my own." Clutching her hand he found her still wearing the ring he gave all those years ago. "Perhaps there is still hope. Perhaps I will find your soul, one day."

Leaving her body in peace, Mathias took a seat by her bedside and began to peruse the book. He knew that in order to master Death he would have to learn how to hold it back. Deep in the books passages he found his answer.

Nosferatu. Vampire. Immortal.

"No," he said to himself aloud. To master Death it was not sufficient to merely hold him back. He must have something that he does not. His eyes stared into the letters written on the page and they blurred before eyes. The pages of the book began to turn of their own accord. His mind seemed to bond with the text and he felt himself searching through hundreds of years of knowledge. At last he found his answer.

The Crimson Stone

Of course! Mathias' thoughts began to race. The stone's purpose was to use a vampire's soul as power for the wearer. Vampires hold back Death by drinking the blood of the living. Whoever wore the Crimson Stone could take a soul denied even to Death. That was it. That was real power. That is how he would master Death. But what of the price? The price was a small one to pay. Humanity. What did he need of humanity? Arising from his seat, Mathias walked into the next room to his Shatranj board.

Yes. It would work. He was wise to tell Death that he would call him in a year. He would need time to prepare. First he must set up his pieces, and then he must prepare himself. Yes, a year would be time enough.

"Poor Mathias," Sara said. "I cannot imagine his grief."

"Nor can I," Leon responded suddenly clutching his beloved's hand. "I too cannot imagine a world without you."

"Have no fear, Leon. I will always be with you. I will always love you."

The two lovers sat by a balcony overlooking the interior of Sarn. They had passed Mathias' quarters sometime ago to see if he needed anything. There was only silence from the room. That silence had left Leon concerned.

"What of us, Leon?"

Leon was snapped out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry?"

"Our wedding?"

"I loathe to say, we must postpone it a while longer. I cannot go ahead with it so soon after this."

"I understand, and agree. My only concern is that you may be called away again to campaign." She buried her head in his shoulders. "I fear for you each time you go."

"I know, I…"

His words were cut off by the sound of a woman's scream. Leon rushed off into the direction of the scream leaving Sara trailing behind. He tracked the scream to a woman curled up on the floor outside Mathias' room. For a moment, Leon feared the worst. He recalled that his friend still had a blade in the room when he left. Could he have taken his own life? Leon burst into the room prepared for the sight he had already envisioned in his mind. Mathias lay face down on the ground of the bed chamber. Gone was any evidence of the events that had transpired there. Gone was the chest with the book. Leon turned Mathias' body. To his surprise, he was still breathing. His eyes were open and seemed to respond to his presence.

"Mathias?"

The man remained silent. The expression of his face was a blank one. A search of his body produced no wound that could have caused such a condition. A doctor soon appeared on site and examined him. "A state of shock," the medic said. "Nothing is really wrong with him." Mathias just seemed unwilling to respond to the world around him. Set in this vegetative state, Leon ordered he be given his own separate bed until Elisabetha was buried.

The next several days passed quickly for Leon. Elisabetha was buried in a quiet burial ceremony. Mathias was carried in a specially prepared chair. It seemed for several moments that Mathias was going to snap out of his trance but then his face would remain expressionless. An odd twitch would take over his face all through out the funeral as if he wanted to speak or cry. Ultimately the day ended and Mathias was returned to his room and left in bed.

A person was selected to care for Mathias. Although he would not speak or move, he still needed to be fed and taken care of. It did not bother Leon that he had not selected the person or that he did not even know the person. In fact he could not even say if it were a man or woman. He was oblivious to Mathias' needs. He was not consciously being evasive he just seemed to stop being concerned about him. His mind always assumed that he was well looked after. He was oblivious to his obliviousness. In fact, everyone was. Even the Bishop Le Puy, who came at once upon hearing the news of Mathias' health and Elisabetha's death, seemed to unknowingly assume that Mathias was just bedridden and that there was no need to see him. After all, like everyone, he vaguely recalled seeing already.

When the Bishop arrived, he brought with him a large regiment of soldiers, shortly there after he requested to speak with Leon privately in his quarters.

"This is unfortunate business, Mathias becoming ill." The Bishop's voice betrayed no sense of real concern. He spoke of it very matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Leon said simply. He wanted to keep his words to a minimum. For some reason he never liked the Bishop. His eyes always gave the impression of someone who was always planning and plotting. Mathias would sometimes have a similar expression, but for some reason it never bothered Leon.

"I see you have taken charge here. This provides us with an excellent opportunity."

"I don't see what you mean."

The Bishop nearly laughed. "Surely you are not so blind? With Mathias out of the way, you have a clear chance to claim Sarn for yourself!"

"I think your eminence is confused. Mathias is my friend. I have taken charge here only temporarily until such time Mathias get well."

"And you think he will?"

"I certainly hope so."

Le Puy walked to the window of Leon's room. Gesturing to the outside, "Do you see all of those men I have brought with me? They are here to relieve Mathias' forces. They will take up the responsibility of guarding Sarn. You are to take Mathias' garrison here and lead them to Antioch where they will help in the siege of that city. After which, you will order them to return home. They are not to return to Sarn."

"Those men answer to Mathias. I cannot order them home."

"They answer to you now…"

"It is a privilege that I will not abuse!"

"Sarn has been strategically located since Tartery fell. We must have it as a back up should we not hold Antioch."

"Not at the expense of Mathias."

"Need I remind you, Baron Leon Belmont, that we have been very kind to you? Giving you land, title, and even over looking your interest in an eastern woman."

"What does Sara have to do with this?"

"Nothing. You just seem to forget on whose summons you are here for. You also seem to forget the fundamental differences between us and them."

Leon held back the urge to strike the man across the face with his gauntlet. "The only one here who has forgotten why we are here is you, clinging to differences of opinion to justify your own self interests!"

"Perhaps I should rephrase myself. If you do not take charge of Sarn, I will ask Casmir to come and assume control. Now who do you think Mathias would prefer? You or Casmir? I personally prefer you. Casmir has proven himself, less than trust worthy. You at least I know can be trusted. Trusted to do what he is told, if he wants to keep his title, his land, his chance to be married to the woman he loves."

"I don't care about the land or the title. But leave Sara out of this."

The Bishop extended his hand with his signet ring. "Do we have a deal?" Leon stared at the hand and merely turned and stormed out of the room. "I'll take that as a yes," Le Puy whispered to himself.

Leon had no idea how far he had walked or for how long after he left the Bishop in his quarters. The voice that called out to him was like a beacon in the dark. It was Sara.

"What's wrong, Leon?" she asked worriedly.

Leon merely stood and allowed himself to lean against the wall of the hallway they were in. Sara embraced him. He was much taller than her and thus she had to look up to him. "Tell me," she pleaded.

"Change," he said simply. "Irony," he muttered. In his mind he twice damned Mathias for being right about everything. The motives of the crusaders were not as pure as their goal. Everything he had told himself to believe in, the crusader oath, the pope's calling, their purpose here, was all for naught. It meant nothing so long as the men who led the armies would no care. He joined Mathias first because he knew he and fallen in love with the woman he now held in his arms. Second, he knew that Mathias was fighting the battle justly. Now Mathias was gone, and he was left with no choice but to become exactly what he opposed.

"Damn it. Damn it all."

Hidden in the darkness of a hood, a grin passed along the face of the lone observer watching Leon and Sara. How quaint the figure thought. The Bishop Le Puy acted exactly as he had predicted. All he had to do was remove himself from the board, and things would begin to fall apart. Everyone was showing their true colors. All the blackness in men's heart would be made plain to him. From that very blackness he would gain strength. The figure walked passed the pair of lovers but they did not notice. In fact no one noticed him. He had been in the room with Leon and Le Puy but they would not know it. The spell he used to make everyone ignore him had worked perfectly. He had the freedom of the city. He could do as he liked and of course everyone believes he is sick, lying in bed. The book had many secrets that he would be learning in the year ahead. Mathias was pleased.


	10. Dead End

Dead End

Antioch.

To call it a city seems to do it injustice. Over 200 towers spread over 30 miles of desert sand. It is almost a kingdom all its own. Once a bustling metropolis, now buried in gallons upon gallons of blood. Buried in the steel of blades blunt with use. Buried in clashes of faiths. Buried in death.

The knights of the combined armies of the crusaders stood on the battlements and in the streets yelling and screaming cries of victory. Half of them seemed lost in some trance like state pointing to invisible saints to whom they attributed their victory. The other half desperately looked around trying to grasp some glimpse of these holy spirits come to save them. Somewhere in the crowd Marcus Bohemond and Raymond the Count of Toulouse stood observing it all. Beside them, Peter Bartholomew with his arms raised held a large and rusted lance. A large crowd of knights kneeled before him as if revering the corroded relic. Behind him the Bishop Le Puy failed miserably at disguising his intense anger at what he was seeing. Casmir had to physically restrain the clergy man as he tried to pull Bartholomew from his make shift pulpit.

"Let the masses have their holy lance," Casmir whispered in the Bishop's ear.

"But it isn't real one. It is unthinkable!"

"It saved us from being massacred; I think that makes it holy enough."

"Blasphemy!"

War had not diminished Casmir's malicious grin. "There's no such thing for me," he said gesturing to his tarnished yet still recognizable crusader cross.

Elsewhere, far away from the rest of the army, Leon Belmont, Baron and regent of Sarn stood watching. He stood with his company of knights. Although it has never been an official edict, they tried to remain separate from the rest of the crusaders. Leon was glad of it. When they had marched under Mathias they had been undefeated. He was happy to say that they have remained so under his leadership. The taking of Antioch proved to be an odyssey. Holding would seem to require a miracle. However it was a miracle that Leon would not be a part of. He sent a message to the Bishop Le Puy, informing him that he was returning to Sarn for a brief respite. The reply came quickly.

"Must return with you. Make arrangements."

Leon crumbled the paper in his hand.

By days end, Leon was underway to return to Sarn. Following his company was the Bishop's caravan. The events of the previous year had seriously soured his relation with the Bishop, and thus he made it a point to not speak to him during the journey. The communication was purely via notes to one another carried by a messenger boy. The two men did not speak until a week into the journey when an unprecedented sight was beheld by all.

At daybreak, the caravan began to gather its belongings and prepare to continue to their destination. Leon was in his tent when a knight burst in speaking in a startled voice.

"Baron! Come at once!"

Immediately Leon ceased what he was doing only stopping to grab his gauntlet. Following the knight out, he was led to a small crowd of men huddled in a circle. From within he could hear screaming.

"Monsters! Demons! The devil!"

In the center of the crowd was a single man in torn clothes that revealed a scorched skin underneath. The man was screaming as two men tried to keep him on the ground.

"What happened here?" Leon demanded.

"This man just came running into camp, screaming and hollering as you see," one of the men answered.

"We don't know what happened to him. He just keep raving about monsters," another said.

Leon brought himself closer to the deranged man. "What happened to you?"

"B…Baron?"

"Yes, I am Baron Belmont," he said reassuringly. Tell us what happened."

"They were everywhere. Came out of the darkness. They burned us my lord, all of us. Everyone in my company. Dead! There was a man. In a cape. Black. Darkness! Wings. Monster! The devil!"

Leon tried to get the man to make sense, however it was no use. He ordered the men to call the medic and have him examined. As the poor man was raised, Leon noticed the man's hand. At first he thought his hands were blackened by some powder, however upon closer inspection he realized it was metal. Looking again at his garments he realized what he had thought was a simple dirty tunic was in fact melted armor being dried into the man's skin. Whatever burned him must have been as hot as the fires of hell to do such damage.

"Baron!"

Leon answered the call by running to the knight that had summoned him. It was from the look out post. He was about to ask what was wrong but the knight's hand gestured to the horizon. Almost unseen and gliding like a loose leaf from a tree, silhouettes marched across a hill in the distance. Their size was disproportionate with the distance at which they were being seen. However that was not the most incredible sight. Hovering over the giant figures was what seemed to be an army of flying creatures.

"Monsters." The look out guard said.

"Indeed, and they seem to be traveling in our same direction."

"Could they be heading for Sarn, Baron?"

"I pray not."

The knight's final question troubled Leon greatly. The direction the monsters were heading could easily bring them near Sarn. Swallowing his pride, Leon approached the Bishop about the matter. For the majority of the journey the Bishop remained in his specially prepared carriage. He left it only for the most basic of necessities. The inside of it was elegantly adorned. Once Leon was inside he thought it might have been bigger on the inside than out.

"Sortie? Monsters? Ridiculous. No." the Bishop said in a quick sequence.

"What?" was Leon's exclaimed response.

"You heard me. Perhaps I spoke too quickly. The answer is no."

"For God's sake why?"

"Don't you bring the Lord's name in this! Don't you dare. You tell me monsters are prowling about and have burned some poor fellow. And you want to sortie? Whatever for?"

"They are heading in a direction that may bring them into contact with Sarn. We are only two days ride from there. I think it important to the safety of the domain."

"I think that such a sortie would be foolish. We are in this land to fight heathens not monsters. If they are as hellish as you describe then we should give them a wide berth. Perhaps they are even doing the lord's work."

"How can you say that? He was a knight, a crusader!"

"Yes. Well it seems perhaps even some our crusaders have become heretics. Did you see those knights kneeling to that 'holy lance?' It was despicable. I wish the Pope to hear of this immediately. No. Leave those beings alone. Let God's will be done."

Leon left the Bishop loathing him more than ever before. The only concession he was able to win from him was to be able to leave camp immediately and ride ahead to Sarn with two knights. The Bishop felt it would be too unsafe to take with him anymore knights. Leon's heart pounded rapidly as he rode nonstop towards Sarn. His worry was great and unfounded he hoped. It was night when they at last approached Sarn. A chill began to ride down Leon's spine as he felt a sense of déjà vu.

Fire emanating from the center of Sarn made Leon's heart sink. There was no need to announce their arrival because the gates were torn down. Leon and his accompanying knights rode into a dead city.

"Hello!" one of the knights yelled.

One of the knights dismounted and walked to the nearest cabin in search of life. After a moment the knight walked out. Without turning to Leon or the other knight he went to the next door. Again he came out after only a moment but this time he addressed himself to the Baron.

"My lord," he began.

"Dead?"

The knight shook his head. "Alive. They are afraid to come out. They mumble of monsters!"

Leon ordered the men to continue searching the homes checking for any dead. Alone, he began to ride to the citadel. As he rode, he saw that slowly, the city populace began to exit from their homes. The sight of their ruling Baron was enough to comfort them into believing that it was now safe. However for Leon, the closer he came to the citadel, the more damage he began to see. Along the way he saw a great big crack in the wall of the city. Some of the attackers apparently entered through there as well. At last he reached his destination. At last he saw the first bodies. Brave knights stayed their ground and were burnt to a crisp. Many of the servants were still cowering in fear and refused to speak. Staring upwards he recognized the window to the Mathias' chamber. The light was on and the window opened outwards. Leon wondered why he came to notice that all of the sudden. He quickly disregarded the thought and began to run up the stairs.

"Sara!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Can you hear me? Sara!"

His search brought him at last to Sara's quarters. The door was ajar and Leon pushed it wide open. In the time that he had spent with Sara, he had entered her quarters many times. The room he entered now was a pale shadow of the one he knew. The stench of fire was still hanging heavy in the air. Everything had been burnt to dust. The east wall was nearly nonexistent and a hole in the ceiling revealed the upper floor. Leon was taken aback and stumbled backwards until he touched the wall of the outside hallway. His mind reeled. He denied the possibility that she was inside when it happened. On some unknown instinct, he turned and raced for Mathias' chamber. As he approached he saw a hand protruding from Mathias' room.

"Sara!"

Like the voice of a ghost, almost forgotten and weakened from disuse an answer came. "Leon?" The voice was a man's voice.

Reality seemed to become a dream before Leon's eyes. Sara gone. Now Mathias was awake. Laying face down on the floor, Leon could see that Mathias had struggled to from his bed and found his legs unable to move. He was pale from all his time kept in doors. His legs seemed to have failed him from disuse. Leon cradled his old friend in his arms.

"What happened, Mathias? Where is Sara?"

He spoke weakly and forced Leon to put his ear close to Mathias' mouth.

"Monsters…"

"Yes I know, I saw them on their way here. Tell me, where is Sara?"

"Castle…"

"What do you mean, castle? What are you talking about?" Leon asked almost yelling. Catching himself out of place he continued, "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about Sara. Just tell me where she is, if you know."

"Gone. Not dead, taken."

"Taken? But who…?"

Finding some strength, Mathias spoke louder than before. "The monsters, they serve a vampire. You must follow them if you want to save her. This vampire, I have heard stories of him. He lives in a castle in a forest called Eternal Night. You must go there."

"How do I get there? How will I know?"

"Wherever they travel, they will leave a path of death and destruction. That will be your trail."

"I understand," Leon said. He then proceeded to lift Mathias from the ground carry him. Sitting him on his bed, Mathias stared back at Leon. There was a moment of silence between the two friends.

"My legs…"

"I know. There is no need to explain. I would not have you join me in your current state."

Mathias merely nodded his head. "Go then. Seek out your betrothed."

Leon turned and began to leave.

"Let nothing stop you," Mathias called after him.

"Nothing will," Leon said simply without turning back.

After Leon had gone, Mathias remained seated on his bed. After a moment he rose up from it effortlessly. He stood up on his own two feet and discarded his feigned weakness as he would a layer of clothing. He stayed where he was and looked on the deserted doorway. There was no turning back now. Had there ever been? Was this not the inevitable course laid before a year hence? For a split second he felt a slight discord arise within him. In this moment should he not feel elated? His plans were proceeding as laid out. Then the second died, and the next was born, and he was himself again. Yes, he was elated.

"I know, Leon. I know."

Although the armory had been depleted during the recent attack, Leon found what he need there. For speed and flexibility, he discarded his more extravagant crusader themed attire for an unpretentious one. He adopted a simple red and white surcoat to cover his single plate of chest armor. He maintained his silver gauntlet and added some leg armor to his black and gray-striped slacks. The only other adornments were the diamond shaped studs which acted more as a determent than anything else. On his hip he carried his sword, still the one that Casmir had sent him so long ago.

Leon was prepared to leave on the horse his knights had prepared him when he saw that Suchet and the rest of the caravan had arrived. He rode out and met him.

"It is exactly how I feared. This could have been avoided."

Suchet was standing outside his carriage overlooking the damage. He seemed speechless. Leon hoped this meant that somewhere deep inside of him, Suchet was admitting to himself that he was wrong. However his hope would have to remain only that.

"And where do you think you are going?"

"I plan on taking some of these men and pursuing these monsters."

"To what end?"

"They have taken Sara! I must get her back!"

"I'm afraid that will be impossible."

"Damn you, what did you say?"

"This city is in ruins. Its garrison is depleted. I need all of these men to remain here on guard. Furthermore, we are all here for a reason, an expressed purpose. We are here to fight the heretics, the heathens, and not monsters. There will be no unauthorized battles."

"Send for other reinforcements…"

"Impossible. Now that Antioch is ours, all forces will be directed at Jerusalem."

Leon breathed a heavy sign of desperation. "I will not abandon Sara to those devils."

"A single life must sometimes be sacrificed for the greater good."

"And you get to choose whose? I reject the assertion. I also reject your authority!"

"How dare…"

"How dare you sir? I see now what I should have long ago. You serve only your own self interest. You and others like you have come to this land with the best of intentions but use the wrong means. You have clouded the pureness of our goals. I see now that the true crusade to free the holy land will never be won by warring. God does not want us to kill one another and soak the sands with our blood. I believe he would rather us make peace."

"Very noble sentiment, Baron, however your idealistic world does not exist. They make war with us, and we must respond in kind."

"Perhaps, but an ideal is only an ideal until it becomes a reality." Leon's horse responded instantly to his commands and he began to ride away from the Bishop.

"Don't you ride away from me Baron Leon Belmont! If you leave now I will strip you of everything. We have given you all! A title, land, even this city was handed to you. Even the very sword you carry with you was a gift from us! Leave now and you will be nothing. The name Belmont will be cast down from hence forth. Do you hear? What will you be without us?"

Leon stopped his horse. Unbuckling it from his belt, he unsheathed his sword. Looking back at the Bishop, he held the sword with his outstretch hand.

"Then here," he began. His hand released the sword and it dropped down and sliced its way into the desert sand.

"Now, I am just what I was when you found me, a man."

A gust of wind filled the air with sand and then he was gone.

The wind that blew through Sarn did not stop there. Like a great sand storm and swept through miles of desert moving like an endless ocean wave. It found it's destination in the mammoth city of Antioch. The gates of the great city were closed and many closed their windows as the felt the effects of what they perceived to be a sand storm. In one room high above in one of its many towers, shabby made windows made their best attempt to protect its occupant. However, the man who lay on the floor of the room seemed little interested in the effects of the weather. He seemed even less bothered by the man who stood in the room that had not been there a moment ago. When at last he noticed the intruder, he did not even remember that he had locked the door to his chamber so as not to be disturbed. The question of how he came to be there did not enter his mind.

"Come to gloat have you?" he said in the broken voice of his drunken stupor.

"Not really, Casmir. I always knew that you were a second rate noble."

Casmir struggled from the floor to regain his seat. As he did so, he repeated the phrase 'second rate' laughingly.

"Marcus Bohemond has claimed Antioch?"

"Yes," he replied simply. "No one is willing to challenge him. And he plans on staying here instead of marching to Jerusalem."

"Just as I thought," Mathias said, as he made a gentle sigh. He seemed both pleased at his correct assumption and saddened by the ease with which he foresaw it. There seemed to be no surprises left for him. He returned his attention to the drunk Casmir. "I am here for a purpose, Casmir, not a whim."

"Aren't you bedridden or some rather?"

Mathias grinned slightly. "That's what everyone thinks." Mathias walked closer to Casmir and then circled behind him placing both hands on the head of his chair.

"I want you to deliver this message for me," Mathias said. "Are you listening?"

Casmir belched loudly then turned his head as far as he could to face Mathias before giving up. "I am all ears," he said with a sarcastic glee.

As if he expected Casmir to record each word spoken, Mathias began to recite his message. "I hate you. You know why I do. I sacrificed so much for you… Your rule is unjust and now I will make you pay. My continued existence will be dedicated to making a mockery of all that is yours. Know that you have made an enemy of me. Know that one day I will rule over this world of darkness that you have abandoned me in. I will make hell on earth." Mathias then stopped.

Casmir clapped mockingly. "Bravo!"

Mathias meanwhile came around in front of Casmir and bade him to stand. Casmir did so with difficulty. Mathias held him up so that he would not fall. He then seemed to embrace him as though he were embracing a brother.

"I know you will deliver him this message, Casmir." Mathias began again. "I know you can. You see I know that in the darkest of nights you prayed for my death. You swore you would see me dead before the end of this crusade. So you have. That is why you must tell him."

Casmir coughed and tried to separate himself from Mathias. At last his mind began to clear some. The abnormality of Mathias holding him in his arms seemed enough to awaken his senses. His strength however was lost, absorbed completely by the river of alcohol he had consumed over the past few hours. All Casmir could do was speak.

"Him? Whom do you mean by him?" Casmir asked.

"God," Mathias said plainly. He then placed his mouth to Casmir's ear and whispered. "Take this message to him, personally."

The blade that pierced Casmir was razor-sharp. He did not feel it as it broke through his skin. It entered through a spot chosen with the utmost precision to make him bleed to death, slowly. The first thing that Casmir felt was the light headiness. Mathias let him slip onto the ground face up. The body began to flinch somewhat as the blood began to ooze out of the body. Within minutes Mathias was standing in a pool of blood. He stood there and watched until he was sure all of Casmir's blood was running on the floor. He was sure he was dead when he felt the presence of Death flutter into the room to collect the man's soul. Death paid Mathias little notice. He was still becoming accustomed to his new place in the hierarchy. He knew that in short time, he would be subservient to the wearer of the Crimson Stone. Mathias watched the glowing orb form that Casmir's soul took on ascend upwards.

Mathias grinned sadistically, "Message received."

Just as Mathias had predicted, the monster left a trail destroyed villages and extinguished lives. Many times Leon felt moved by the sights he beheld and felt the urge to stop and help. Many times the survivors pleaded him to stay. Each time, he resigned only to give them the promise that justice would served and he rode on. Finally he came upon a dense fog. It was unnatural in that it seemed to form a barrier or division of some sort. Leon tried to ride around it with no luck. Finally he passed through and continued to ride for a length of time. The sky seemed to become enveloped by the fog and he lost all sense of night and day. Even the very sound of the world seemed to go mute. Eventually he heard the flapping of wings. The fog seemed to lift some and he caught sight of one of the monsters he had seen before soaring through the sky. When the fog had been completely lifted he motioned his horse in order to follow it. Leon noted that he had entered a wooded area, a forest. The flying monster was too high up for Leon to see any detail only its shape. Leon was pushing the horse forward at a breakneck pace. It was speeding through the forest and he saw that the woods were becoming increasingly dense. Suddenly, the horse came to an abrupt halt and Leon felt himself thrown from the horse. It took him a moment to recover. Looking upwards he saw that the monster was now circling above him. Then he saw that the monster seemed to change direction. It was diving towards him! Jumping to his feet, Leon ran to the horse. He saw that its leg had become tangled in the gnarled branches of a fallen tree and was stuck. Leon tried to calm the horse so as to get its leg out, but the intelligent animal could sense the imminent danger and panicked. Looking up, Leon saw that monster bearing down upon them. Déjà vu seemed to fill Leon as he sensed that he knew what was coming next. As if to confirm it, he saw the bright blaze of fire sprouting straight towards him. He leapt out of the way, managing to catch a brief glimpse of the creature. Its gray skin and horned head gave it a gargoyle like appearance. The flame engulfed the horse and all the trees around it. Leon ran from the growing forest fire. Gazing skyward, he saw that the monster was flying once more in straight direction. Looking back only to see the charred figure of his horse, Leon turned and began to run. Ignoring his body's pleas for rest, he turned his thoughts to Sara. He was moving hurriedly through the forest when suddenly there was a flash of light. The light receded and darkness began to swell once again. Leon's speedy figure disappeared.

The End…

The Beginning…


End file.
