Presto had decided on having a rest before getting on with the task at hand but his attempts at getting sleep were disturbed by the fact that even though he was both physically and mentally drained, he could not sleep. Presto burst back into the library full of vigour and slammed the book that had previously eluded him down onto the table. Pulling up a chair and sitting at it, Presto flipped open the book which Schard had earlier taken. Scanning down each page briefly, then summarizing it, stopping only to check certain words, Presto made short work of the once challenging pages. Presto’s brow narrowed over a passage, a section of two pages he had missed before. “What‘s this” he said to himself as he began to searched through the words. “Upon the dawn of the second age, the disappearance of a king shall signify the beginning” Presto translated and read aloud. “It is here when the three will” Presto found himself stuck on a word and took his attention away from the book and looked it up. “It is here when the three will choose the Glovaicalum” Presto paused as he recalled the word Glovaicalum. “Ah yes, Blessed with evil” he remembered. “The Glovaicalum will have two purposes. Kaiazal, the leader of the three disciples will chose the Glovaicalum by giving that person his blood. This person will have two duties and hold the key to Goreoth‘s return”. Presto paused momentarily and rubbed his weary eyes. `Great, now they want to sleep` Presto thought to himself before returning to the book. Presto was troubled to discover that some of the markings on the second page were dulled and illegible, he sighed and read on from where it became legible again. “Malvagatia, the third of the three. A metal warrior, crafted by Goreoth in the shape of a demon only much bigger in size. For Malvagatia to roam free, the Glovaicalum must have been chosen and alive for it is the heart of the Glovaicalum which Malvagatia uses. When the Glovaicalum dies, so does Malvagatia, and with the death of Malvagatia comes the death of any demons produced by it”. A smile spread across Presto’s face as he read the passage aloud. “Now” started Presto, thinking on his feet “how do I find this Glovaicalum?”. Presto stood up and began to pace the library floor, his hands behind his back and in deep thought. “There is only one way I could search the land for a secret such as this” Presto began. “The mind of queen Astral is such that I may easily find this Glovaicalum. However she is in frail condition.” he sighed “But It may be her only hope” said Presto, making his way out of the library and going to Astral’s bedside. He entered the room slowly. It had been a brisk walk to the room, made all the more sweeter by the fact that he was making progress. Biting his lip he approached the bed and knelt by the unconscious Astral’s side. “Oh queen Astral, this may be hard but” he stopped, trying to find the right words “I need something”, Astral stayed motionless. “I need you to show me who the Glovaicalum is, then I stop all the pain. I hope you can hear me”. Presto sighed as she stayed still, he put his fist to his mouth to a second and waited for a response. It didn't arrive. Sighing once more, Presto leant over Astral and kissed her softly on the forehead and as he did, several images flashed before his eyes. The image of a smashed glass bottle and blood on the floor, of a strange man and a book in a chest. Presto saw the image of the man transform into that of Kaiazal. Presto then saw a house, a familiar house. Made of two trees, there was no mistaking whom it belonged too. Then Presto saw a vision of the blood on the floor from the smashed glass jar ooze into its victim. Presto’s jaw dropped as he left the room. “The Glovaicalum” Presto said, unaware he was speaking out loud. “The Glovaicalum is Schard”.
The door stood, monolith like, in front of the nameless man. He had been waiting by it for a while now, contemplating going inside, blindfolded. `Could always be a trap` he thought to himself every so often. `but I don't even know who I am, i cant be that much of a threat to whatever Kreul is up too` he always countered. Looking at the door once more he sighed, it remained tall in front of him and almost mocked his lack of courage to enter. Staring around, he realized that he could not see very far anyway, there was only the smallest gaps of sunlight coming through cracks in the cave roof. He bit his lip and once more looked at the door. `No turning back now` he thought to himself and took out the blindfold that Malak had earlier given him. There was no way he could push the doors open so the nameless man walked a couple of paces back and then jumped at the door, kicking it open. The sight that met him made him go back another few paces. Through the door was a bridge, only just about wide enough to allow the nameless man to pass along it. Below the bridge was a sea of magma, bubbling and shooting for the bridge at regular intervals. Swallowing hard, the nameless man put the cloth across his eyes and tied it around his head, registering him sightless. Taking a deep breath and keeping one hand on his sword, the nameless man gave it no more thought and began to run across the bridge. He could feel the intense heat trying to get at him as he ran. The bridge felt very uneasy as his foot came down on it, the nameless man then began to feel the bridge starting to collapse. Running as fast as he could, the nameless man darted for the other side of the bridge when suddenly he felt the bridge beneath him begin to crumble away from underneath his foot. In sheer desperation, the nameless man jumped high into the air, reaching further than he thought possible. He swallowed hard, time seemed to stand still as he almost floated in mid-air. The nameless man began to descend and knowing there was no bridge to break his fall, he reached out his hands as far as they would go to try and grab onto any ledge that may have been there. He smacked into a rock face hard, winding him slightly but he refused to acknowledge it. Frantically, he searched for something to cling onto as he began to slide down the rock face. His hands managed to grab onto a ledge of some sort and using all his might he pulled himself up. The nameless man lay on the ledge for a second and he attempted to catch his breath. He could feel the stings of several cuts on him, caused as he crashed into the rock face but shook them off quickly. Getting to his feet, he began to feel around for something to give an idea of where he was. Puzzled, he could not find an end to the ledge, then he outstretched his hands to the sides and felt a cave wall. He had found the place where the bridge led too. Walking forward slowly and now keeping a tight grip on his sword, the nameless man descended further into the cave. The nameless man took out his sword and began to tap the floor, then listened out for the loudness of any echoes as he walked forward. Suddenly the floor disappeared beneath the nameless man’s sword as he held it out in front of him. Bending down and picking up a stone, the nameless man hurled it out in front of him and waited for it to hit the bottom. The nameless man breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the stone hit the bottom, soon after leaving his hand. He estimated that the drop would be about fifteen feet, something he could easily handle. The nameless man sat on the edge of the passageway he had came along and pushed himself off it. Feeling almost paralysed with fear and momentarily useless as he flew through the air, he was almost glad to smack against the floor. The impact of the nameless man onto this floor was much harder than before, he tasted blood in his mouth now and spat it out accordingly. Getting on his hands and knees, the nameless man struggled to push himself to his feet once more. Suddenly he stopped. He had heard something in the distance, that was getting closer. Whatever it was seemed to be coming in his direction. Pushing himself to his feet immediately, the nameless man drew out his sword and prepared himself for whatever it was that was coming. The sound grew closer and closer it was as high pitched as the screeching of a bat only the creature that this noise was coming from was bigger. The nameless man bit his lip and was silently happy that he did not have to look at whatever monstrosity it was that was making such a noise. Suddenly he felt it pass overhead, followed by a hundred others, much smaller in size. They gathered around the nameless man as they flew past him, getting in his hair and scratching him with their claws. In frustration, the nameless man swung the sword around aimlessly, trying to get them to back away. He then heard the high pitched squeal of the larger creature again from behind him. Jumping around, he began to run in the direction of the calls. Looking around everywhere in desperation, the nameless man listened out for the slightest indication of the creatures whereabouts. It then came from above, clear and distinct, leaving the nameless man in no doubt of its location. Jumping into the air, he thrust his sword as far as it would go and was consequently disappointed as he heard no cries of pain. As the nameless man landed back on the floor, he heard the screeches again but this time he was given no time to attack and felt the claws of the creature on his shoulders. The nameless man was lifted high into the air and he felt the razor sharp claws of the creature digging into his shoulders. The nameless man began to wriggle about in the creature’s grasp, then when his arm was free enough, he grabbed his sword once more from the belt and thrust it deep into the creature’s body. The creature screamed out deafeningly loud and dropped the nameless man, but not before he could get another hit on the creature. The creature’s dying screams were met by howls of pain from the nameless man as he smacked into the ground for a third time. His sides ached from the impact as he got to his feet and he rubbed them accordingly. He instinctively new something was different as he got to his feet. Thinking about what Malak had told him, he searched his brain for the phrase that he had to say to escape and get back to reality. “Jzi grmajlao twho lao raizprialen ajem zthize peklo” he said, without realizing he had recalled it in time. The nameless man stood silent for a second, waiting for something to happen. When nothing didn't he put his free hand to the blindfold and took it off. He recoiled in horror as he saw some wolves, snarling and showing their teeth aggressively. More wolves made themselves heard until he realized he was surrounded by them. The nameless man had been petrified of wolves since he was a young child and he closed his eyes firmly, even though he had a sword he stood frozen in fear. Then he realized that his memory was back and opened his eyes instantly. Looking around at the scene that surrounded him, he instantly knew where he was. He smiled. He knew everything now, including the man that banished him to be a slave and tried to kill him.
The troops settled down to eat a while ago now. Shadow sat, bound by numerous amounts of rope and countless amounts of knots, by a fire watching them. Sitting next to Shadow was Lord Enzaghe and the young warrior Calandria, still nursing the heavy cut on the face Shadow had given him. The moon shone down on the camp, it was an incredibly good night. Even Shadow was in a better mood. Both Shadow and Enzaghe refused to speak to one another. Enzaghe found himself disgusted at Shadow for Raiguarde’s death, he felt people such as this were no people at all. Enzaghe had granted Shadow one favour however, to leave the mask on. Calandria had gone to remove it once they had reached a camp sight but Enzaghe stopped him, scolding him slightly and adding that Shadow keeps the mask on until they were to reach Hazajaro, which suited Shadow. The troops were cut off from Shadow, Enzaghe and Calandria, the detriment of being a lowly horseman. Shadow could hear the men, around several fires lit around the campsite and watched them with great intrigue at their apparent merriment. Shadow could also see that Enzaghe and Calandria themselves were in high spirits, something Shadow wasn't used too. `How can these men, who kill for a living, be so, so happy?` Shadow questioned while observing them all. Their smiling faces, stuffing themselves with bread, meat and downing it all with ale. “You!” called Calandria, severing Shadow’s concentration.
“What?” snapped Shadow back.
“Why all the killings then eh? come on you can tell me” Calandria said, clearly drunk. Shadow went to give an answer but Enzaghe interrupted the both of them. “Calandria. Now is not the time for talk” he said to Calandria, with hints of both authority and affection.
“Apologonies” Calandria replied, he then began to giggle slightly and he then passed out. Enzaghe groaned and got up. “Not all good men can hold their ale” he said to himself, under his breath as he put his arm around Calandria and picked him up, almost effortlessly. Enzaghe then carried Calandria off and laid him down in a ready made bed, not far from where they were sitting. Enzaghe then came back and sat by Shadow, though he did it through duty rather than wanting to. There was an awkward silence as the two sat together and strange sounds began to filter through the air. Shadow and Enzaghe looked at each other as the sound of swords cutting through the air and battling could clearly be heard behind them. “This had better not be one of your tricks” said Enzaghe as he stood up and looked around. The rest of the troops were too busy eating and drinking to have heard the sounds, which faded as Enzaghe stood up. “Strange” he said to himself. He then began to walk over to where the horses were and seemed to forget about Shadow, which meant it must have been very serious. Looking once more to the soldiers, Shadow saw something that stuck out. In the middle of them all stood a black garbed person, and they were walking toward Shadow. Shadow looked down to the rope in disbelief as it began to untie itself of its own accord. Suddenly Shadow’s hands were free as the person dressed in black stood in front of Shadow. The rope then fell to the ground, giving Shadow total freedom once more. Shadow looked up at the black dressed person but just looking at whoever it was made Shadow shiver with fear. The black dressed person then looked directly at Shadow. “You... All... Die” came the rasp of a voice, and with that a huge orange dragon came flying overhead and blew fire on all of the soldiers. Shadow watched, jaw wide open as the helpless soldiers were turned into cinders in the blink of an eye, even Enzaghe and Calandria were nowhere in sight. Shadow stood up instantly. “Show yourself, now” Shadow demanded. “I am the second disciple of Goreoth” growled the figure.
“I demand to see the face of my opponent” said Shadow, aware of the irony.
“You never showed me yours” rasped the disciple and with that he pulled away at the hood and took off the cloak. Shadow stepped back some paces, his face was different but he was instantly recognisable. The second disciple of Goreoth was someone Shadow once called a friend. The second disciple was Orscyar.