-- 11/24/6067 --

     Gael gazed out of the window of her room at the furious snow storm,
her thoughts as distant as the warmth of summer.  Winter had been late in
coming this year, but now it struck with all of its belated fury, ravaging
the Scattered Islands.
     In the past sennight they had spent on the isle of Baharri, Hawn had
remained locked up in his room alone.  To Gael, it seemed that when he was
travelling, Hawn held up against his depression well enough.  But when left
to himself, he grew even more distanced and depressed.  Since their return,
all he had dome was study a couple of books on magic which he had recovered
from the library of Roarshahk, never being seen except when he emerged for
the occasional meal.  And then he was never in good spirits, growing
enraged when anyone attempted to engage him in conversation or otherwise
distract him from his thoughts.
     Gael could see that Hawn was distancing himself from everyone, though
she could not figure out why.  She would have thought that Hawn would want
to try to get on with his life and not continue to torment himself with the
loss of his loved ones.
     In a way, she was right.  Hawn was seeking to avoid any further pain
such as befell him when House Ambrosius had been destroyed.  The blow to
him had been too great and never again did he wish to lose someone for whom
he cared.  As such, his subconscious realized that he could not permit
himself to care for anyone else ever again.  If he never cared for anyone,
then it was not possible to lose someone for whom he cared.
     To an extent, Gael could sympathize with what the elf was feeling.
After all, when she had been a child, everyone she had known had been
brutally murdered by orcs.  But still, her loss had come when she had been
a young child, and she had since grown to accept it, for it had been long
ago and just a dull memory until that night in Skellig Keep.  So with
Hawn's elven views on the preciousness of life and the recentness of the
destruction of House Ambrosius, she could only imagine how great this loss
must be for him.
     What she could not understand about the elf was his avoiding anyone
around him.  Although she too had avoided any close relationships with
anyone since then, but she still had friends.  Hawn seemed to her as if he
had no wish to have any relationships at all, and she was at a loss as to
the reason for this.  She simply could not recognize the defensive
mechanism his subconscious had decided upon to prevent emotional loss from
ever again striking the elf.
     Still, this feud Hawn sought with the drow was quite understandable to
her: on the few occasions that she had seen orcs, she had had to struggle
to keep herself from attacking them.  Also, this feud would, in all
probability, result in the death of Hawn.  Perchance that was what he
sought: the bliss of oblivion beyond the veil of death, rejoining the
members of House Ambrosius for all eternity.  As an elf, suicide was not an
easy option for Hawn; however, death in battle would not surpass his
warrior's spirit and lust for vengeance.
     Through the storm outside, motion caught Gael's eye: four figures
trudged up the street towards the inn.  It took her a moment to recognize
exactly what brought her attention to them: the device on the shield one of
them bore was that of House Moonaria, Evrin's family.  Evrin and Graynyr
had finally returned!
     Turning from the window, Gael left her room to tell Hawn of their
return.  Surely this would cheer him up.  Now they could go to the Seer and
learn what knowledge he would impart upon them.  As she was about to rap on
Hawn's door, however, it swung inwards.  The elf froze, surprised to find
her standing there, paused in mid-motion.
     Several nervous heartbeats passed before Gael broke the silence,
saying, "I've just now seen Evrin and Graynyr returning.  I thought you
might like to know."
     "I am aware of their return," Hawn replied flatly.  When she did not
respond, he inquired, in the same tone of voice, "Was there something else
you required?"
     She just shook her head, dejected, knowing that any attempt at
closeness would be vehemently shrugged off.
     Hawn closed the door to his room, moving off down the hallway.  In the
common room below, Graynyr and Evrin were shrugging off their heavy winter
garments near the fire.  The common room itself was nearly empty: most of
the patrons were home and few people travelled at this time of year,
especially when the weather was this bad.
     The last of House Ambrosius greeted the four travellers, surprising
them when he called Tibulus and Kasendra by name.  To Evrin, he added, "If
you would now give me the Casket, I will be away to attend to the Seer."
     "Are we not to travel with you?" put forth Graynyr.
     "Alone, I shall travel more swiftly."
     "This weather is not so hospitable.  To travel alone is to travel in
quest of Death."
     Evrin withdrew the cloth-wrapped bundle that was the Casket of
Kartheus from his pack, holding it with utmost revulsion for its nearness.
"We must go with you."
     Glancing at the few patrons present, Hawn said, "Let us retire to the
privacy of my room."
     In his room, Hawn lifted the black book from the things on the table
next to the fireplace.  "The Casket," he requested of Evrin.  "I would be
away now: My impatience grows by the moment."
     "Wish you not to know of the Casket of Kartheus?" inquired Tibulus.
     "From where?" countered Hawn.  "The Seer alone knows of it, should he
condescend to tell me."
     "It is an item of great demonic power which disappeared long ago,"
stated Tibulus, calling upon his extensive knowledge of lore.  "It was
reputed to hold the heart of a demon prince, and would bestow its powers on
any who is evil enough of heart to open it."  Tibulus said this without his
usual regale, speaking simply and to the point, a tax indeed upon a
practiced storyteller.
     Hawn made no reply, staring instead into the crackling fire.
     Recognizing the look of deep though in Hawn's face, Evrin quietly
asked what he was thinking about.
     Hawn only said, "I have no choice in this matter.  I must learn what I
may."  With that, he moved back to the table and opened a case of black
stone, removing the cursed knife he had recovered from the shrine in the
southlands.  The others looked at the knife with curiosity, except for Gael
who stepped back, asking what he was doing with that accursed blade.
     Hawn appeared to undergo a momentary mental struggle as he held the
stone and ivory athane in his hand.  But the moment passed and he donned
his heavy cloak, already clad in cold weather attire.  From Evrin he took
the Casket, tucking it and the Tome of Malakai under his arm and holding
the knife up before him.  The air shimmered and Hawn's form grew blurry,
indistinct, and then was gone.
     The others looked with amazement at the place where the elf had just
stood.

     The door to the tower of the Seer of Baharri swung open without even
the slightest of whispers.  Hawn stepped inside, the knife held at the
ready in his hand.  The Seer was seated at the small table in the room, his
features concealed by the folds of his voluminous cloak.
     Hawn sat the Tome and the Casket on the table before the Seer.  "There
is your payment.  Now, the information."
     "The knife as well," the Seer added without emotion.
     "The agreement was for the Tome of Malakai and the Casket of Kartheus.
The knife is mine."
     "You are a fool to trifle with me, Ambrosius.  The knife."
     Hawn smiled slightly, saying, "If you are anywhere near so powerful as
you think yourself to be, you know this blade's power.  It craves blood and
a life...  I need only scratch you and your spirit belongs to the knife.
It remains mine."
     A laugh from the Seer was accompanied by the comment, "It cannot harm
me."
     Hawn grew deadly serious. "You are a fool to say that, drow."  Hawn
hissed this last word as if it were the vilest insult imaginable.  "I need
only give into its lust and you will die, as well you know."
     The Seer sat forward, pushing his hood back to reveal the elven
features and pitch black skin of a drow.  A sneer curled disdainfully at
his lip.  "You may be insightful, but you have not the heart to give into
that evil and take my life."
     Staring into the dark elf's eyes, Hawn replied, "We both know that is
a lie.  You are a drow.  I would gladly slay you."
     "I would crush you ere you could even try."
     A chuckle, dry and empty of humor.  "You would have already done so if
you dared chance it.  Cease your empty threats and fulfill your portion of
the bargain.  And know this, should you lie, I will know it...  And you may
very well die for it."
     The dark elf's eyes bored into Hawn with deep loathing for a beat
before he said, "The drow assault on House Ambrosius was begun far too
early.  The war is not to start until spring.  Then are the Demon Wars to
start again."
     He smiled when this obviously phased the grey elf with the reference
to those vicious wars which had nearly destroyed all sentient life in the
world millennia ago.  Then the various demon princes had sought mastery
over the world of mortals, and had only been narrowly stopped.  After all
of this time, civilization was still recovering.  The prospect of another
such war was not heartening, especially since it had been the time of the
first Kinslayer Wars, elf warring against eer Wars will
be renewed, and the drow will triumph this time.  Unfortunately, some drow
who sought individual glory made a preemptive strike against House
Ambrosius.  Lolth was very displeased.  Many drow paid with their lives.
Not until the equinox need you worry.  Then you will die with all of your
miserable, weak-blooded kind."
     "Cease your insults and continue," commanded Hawn.

     Hawn stepped from the Seer's tower, striding out into the snowy night.
Hawn would rather have slain the drower Wars will
be renewed, and the drow will triumph this time.  Unfortunately, some drow
who sought individual glory made a preemptive strike against House
Ambrosius.  Lolth was very displeased.  Many drow paid with their lives.
Not until the equinox need you worry.  Then you will die with all of your
miserable, weak-blooded kind."
     "Cease your insults and continue," commanded Hawn.

     Hawn stepped from the Seer's tower, striding out into the snowy night.
Hawn would rather have slain the drow after listening to the Seer's insult
riddled discourse on the coming demonic invasion.  However, he had needed
this knowledge, and besides, he knew better than to attack a mage in his
own domicile.  So with the cursed knife in one hand, Hawn carefully moved
away from the tower, alert to any form of vengeance from the Seer.
     He was not disappointed in his pessimism.
     Out of the snow storm there appeared three huge insect-like creatures,
each the size of a man, the likes of which he had never before glimpsed.
These creatures had crab-like pincers with segmented tails curving up over
their backs, with what looked to be a stinger attached to the tip.  As one
who had lived his entire life in forested surroundings, Hawn had never had
the chance to see a normal scorpion, let alone a giant one.
     Guessing correctly that this was the work of the Seer, Hawn sent a
salvo of sorcerous bolts at one of the giant arachnids, killing it
instantly.  With his sword, he slew the other two, but not without being
badly torn by their pincers in the process, though he was able to avoid
their deadly poisonous stingers.
     Lights flared up around the elf and four more scorpions appeared,
though these were somewhat smaller in size.  Behind the approaching
scorpions stood the drow Seer, gleefully expecting the demise of the grey
elf.  But Hawn cast another spell that placed these arachnids in a comatose
state.
     "Impressive, Hawn Ambrosius, but useless.  You are week.  You cannot
fight me.  Your magic cannot harm me.  You are lost."  Points of light
stabbed out in the night, burning into Hawn's body.
     Driven by his hatred for the dark elves, Hawn grimaced, uttering,
"That remains to be seen."  Calling forth the all of his magics, the energy
burning across his brain, Hawn raised his hands.  Lightning blasting forth
to surround the drow in a crackling shroud of current.  The dark elf's body
spasmed and a gurgling scream was drowned out by the clap of thunder as the
bolt of lightning shattered the Seer's protective wards and pierced the
drow's innate resistance to magic.
     When the barrage of electricity ceased, the drow slumped to his knees.
Hawn pulled the knife from his belt and advanced upon the drow.  However,
the dark elf summoned the last of his strength to cast one more spell.  He
rose up into the air and floated off into the black sky, calling out a
promise of vengeance.
     Hawn replaced the knife and trudged on into the night, ignoring his
wounds.

                              -- 11/25/6067 --

     Something pulled Gael back from the dark well of sleep.  It took her a
moment for her weary brain to comprehend that she had fallen asleep sitting
in a chair in Hawn's room, awaiting -- hoping for -- his return.  Looking
around for the source of the disturbance, she saw Hawn across the room.  He
knelt unmoving on his knees, the enchanted knife in one hand, his cloths
caked with blood and ice.
     Gael moved towards the half-frozen elf, but an arm rose to weakly
brush her aside.  His voice croaked hoarsely.  "Let me be."
     "You are in need of help," countered Gael, "you're hurt."
     "That is of no importance," responded the elf flatly.
     "Yes it is," she returned with much concern, not quite believing her
ears.  Hawn had slipped even deeper into his apathetic melancholy.  "I want
to help you."
     "I have no need of your help."
     "Yes you do," she pressed.  "You are not helping yourself, so I must
do so for you."
     Hawn pushed himself to his feet with great difficulty, saying, "Then I
shall tend my wounds.  So begone."
     He inadvertently looked at her as he said this.  Her face reflected
her concern, and he could see that she had had almost no rest, weariness
from restless sleep showing in her face as well.  Her hair descended in an
orderless sprawl about her face where normally the long wavy tresses were
brushed back and well-tended, seeming to symbolize the disarray of the
emotions he almost felt, ghosts of another time.  He turned away, not
wanting to see that face or the memories it evoked, memories of love for
those who had been torn from him forever.
     "Don't turn your back on me," pleaded Gael, starting towards him but
then thinking better of it.  "I care for you.  Whether or not you want me
to, I care.  You're not alone.  You still have friends who care for you."
     In forced tones, Hawn declared, "Your concern goes not without
appreciation, but it is unwanted."
     "By the gods, Hawn," said Gael, her arms spread in supplication to his
stiff back, "don't shut your friends out.  You cannot erect walls between
yourself and those who care for you.  We want to help you, but when you bar
us from your heart to keep out the pain of more loss, you not only hurt
yourself by alienating your friends, you are hurting us as well.  Is that
what you want?"
     Hawn's voice croaked emptily at first, then grew stronger, saying,
"Love, friendship, care...  Such emotions no longer exist for me.  I am a
blade forged by pain, honed by loss.  A blade with a single edge -- an edge
to slice into the cancer that is the drow, to cut it away that they may no
more harm innocents."
     "Don't do this to yourself, Hawn," she pleaded.  "There is so much
more in life for..."
     Hawn cut her off, saying brusquely, "I have nothing left to live for
but vengeance upon those who slew my family.
     "You have your life," offered Gael hopefully.  "Make of it what you
can.  If you think it lost, then forge it anew, and mold it to the desires
of your heart.  You have the strength to do so, I've seen it in you.  Use
it constructively, not destructively."
     His voice was once again emotionless.  "Indeed, my life is as my own
to do with as I please.  Now leave me be."
     Gael wanted to say something more, but knew not what.  She only wished
her powers of healing could extend beyond the physical and heal this wound
that marred Hawn's heart, this disease that was eating bit-by-bit what he
had once been.  Feeling the pain of his forced distance, Gael merely said,
despondently, "As you wish." She left the room, never seeing the tear that
rolled achingly down Hawn's high, elfin cheek, sparkling in the dying light
of the fire.

     Graynyr, Kasendra, and the rest sat quietly, overwhelmed by Hawn's
recounting of his conversation with the Seer.  This change in plans from
seeking to avert a war between the drow and the races of the light elves,
to being confronted with an invasion of demonkind, was wholly unexpected,
and to some quite stunning.
     "How can you be so certain that the Seer spoke the truth?  After all,
he is a drow," Evrin offered to Hawn, distrusting the Seer now more than
ever with the revelation that he was a dark elf.
     Gesturing to the case containing the enchanted knife, Hawn replied,
"As I said, the knife has empathic powers and an awareness bordering on the
sentient.  Had the drow spoken other than the truth, I would have known
it."
     "Then what are we to do with this information?" wondered Graynyr
aloud.  "Surely, we do not ourselves stand a chance against this coming
army of demons."
     "We must return forthwith to the Temple of Poseidon with this
knowledge so that preparations can be made to avert this war," asserted
Gael.
     "Does this mean that for now we will not be seeking to battle the
drow?" inquired Arahna.
     "Such an assault must wait," spoke a hollow, misty voice.
     At the sound of this voice, they glanced around, looking for the
source of this unnatural vociferation.  Gradually, a wavering, indistinct
wraith form took shape in the middle of the room.  Recognizing the elven
form, Evrin broke out with "Dwarkin Shea!"
     The wraith bowed, saying, "Greetings, my friends.  I see much has
occurred since last we met."
     "What has happened to you," worried Gael.
     "What, this?" replied Dwarkin, indicating his form with a melodious
elven laugh.  "Fret not, I still live.  This is naught more than a sending,
a simple bit of trickery."  Then, more seriously, "I urgently needed to
speak with you and had not the time to join you in person.  The Archdruid
Torlecca has had a visitation from the god Sylvanus.  She learned that
there is a great evil dawning upon the world, an evil so great that it will
overshadow the good and the balance between good and evil may be
irreparably sundered.  Listening to Hawn's discourse just now, I believe
that that evil is this demonic invasion which you have learned about."
     "What has this to do with us?" queried Hawn.
     The apparition wavered a moment before replying, "We have been chosen
by the gods to fight this evil, that when the battle comes, good and evil
will once again balance out."
     "You expect us to fight an army of demons?" exploded Tibulus
incredulously.  "I may have defeated a few of them in my time, but an
entire army?  We stand not a chance."
     "The armies have not yet arrived," explained Dwarkin.  "My fellow
druids have learned of one of the places where the evil grows powerful.  We
were to go and attend to this evil.  Now, having heard what you have
learned, I believe that this place will serve as a staging area for at
least a part of their army.  If we can remove the evil, then the parts of
the demonic forces who would be marshalled there will not be able to
appear.  Thus, we may prevent that part of the army from appearing, that
none may have to fight this army."
     "And what place is this?" requested Graynyr.
     "It is found in the heart of the Yurndale forest," began Dwarkin.
"It is an enchanted forest.  Long ago, the magics which protected the
forest were perverted by an evil being.  The heart of the forest became a
dark and evil place, and it sought to dominate all the nearby lands.  The
druids banded their power together to vanquish the entity responsible, for
this deed.  Although they were unable to remove the evil from the forest,
they did succeed in forcing its awareness into dormancy.  But of late, we
have discovered that the forest is once again recovering its power."
     "You mean that we must travel through an enchanted forest?" popped in
Kasendra, loathing the idea.  She had already had more than her share of
such places.
     "The Yurndale forest still sleeps while winter is upon it.  That is
why we must journey into it now, ere it awakens with the spring thaw,"
stressed Dwarkin.
     "And just how are we to destroy an entire enchanted forest?" wondered
Tibulus.
     "We are not to destroy the forest.  We need only destroy the being
which spreads its evil throughout the forest.  That is why I require your
assistance.  The forest may be dormant, but it still has its defenses.
Together, we will be strong enough to defend ourselves from what guards
there are, and yet not so numerous as to rouse the attention of the forest.
Once we reach the center of the forest, we will be able to destroy the evil
lurking there."
     "Are you saying that we have a chance of succeeding in this adventure
of yours?" Graynyr inquired of the druid.
     "Oh, we shall succeed," he asserted, "so long as we do not rouse the
attention of the forest."
     "Then I say that we must go, if it means preventing a legion of demons
from appearing in the world and thereby avoiding the need to fight those
demons," voted Graynyr.
     The others agreed as well, if reluctantly, to join in his venture.
Venturing into the heart of a malicious, enchanted forest was certainly not
for the feint of heart.
     However, Gael said, "I cannot join you in this adventure.  I must
return to my superiors with word of what has been learned from the Seer of
Baharri."
     "That is no problem," countered Dwarkin.  "I had planned upon joining
you in the city of Arinius.  From there we may journey to Yurndale."
     To this Gael agreed, for the official reason for her departing Arinius
with Hawn and Dwarkin was to learn what the Seer knew of the drow.
     "Then all will come on this urgent business?" asked Dwarkin, receiving
nods from all around.
     "All but I," stated Hawn.  "Other matters call for my attention.  I
cannot join you.  Perhaps later, once this has been attended to I may join
you by use of the enchanted knife."
     "Wait," suggested Graynyr, "why not have Hawn use his knife or the
brooch to transport us all to the forest?"
     "It cannot be done," countered Hawn.  "This blade has only enough
strength to teleport me alone and no others.  The brooch might have the
power left to send some of us to the forest, for its energies are almost
exhausted, and even if it did, I do not think it would be capable of
returning us once we have arrived."
     "Then go alone with the knife.  If you are quick enough, you can
destroy the being lurking in that forest."
     "No," said Dwarkin, "his appearance in such a fashion would likely
gain the attention of the forest, and such an event we dare not risk.
Besides, a druid must be present to direct the forces of nature which will
be freed with the destruction of the entity controlling the Yurndale
forest."  Dwarkin's wraith-like form was beginning to flicker.  "The spells
that allow me to communicate with you fade.  We must be quick.  Find
passage to Arinius.  There we will meet and I shall guide you to Yurndale."
     "But without Hawn, we shall not have the assistance of a mage,"
complained Evrin.  "A mage would seem to be a likely aid to us in this
endeavor."
     "Not to worry," Dwarkin informed them.  "There is another who has
pledged her service in this matter.  She has some skill in the area of
magic.  It fades.  Good-bye, my frie..."
     With that, the apparition of Dwarkin Shea was gone.

     They packed their apparel and searched for passage to Arinius -- not
an easy feat, for few captains wished to sail in this weather.  But their
luck was with them and they found a ship sailing south in two days time,
and her captain was only to happy to welcome aboard some extra passengers
for a sizable sum of gold.
     When they rose the next day, Hawn had disappeared, along with all of
his belongings.