Diarie was sitting in her study, awaiting the arrival of the prince. She knew he would be coming, it was one of the perks of being a mystic. But she could not decipher the exact time of his arrival, nor the conditions in which he would arrive. All she knew was that he would be coming at some point today. Diarie was a young woman of about seventeen, who stood about five foot tall, though she was thin for her height. She had an air of beauty and intrigue about her, further enhanced by her enthralling countenance. She had pale blue eyes, which stood out among her features. They were large and almond shaped, and gave away her heritage as a half elf. Between these eyes, was a thin nose, above lush, full lips. Her skin was could be described as pale beige, for her pallor was similar of sand on a beach. Today she wore a rough pair of boots, inside which were tucked her black stockings. She wore a maroon blouse, which came almost to her knees. Because it was so large, it hung off her shoulders seductively. Her pants were of the darkest royal purple, and almost matched her black stockings. These pants were loose and baggy, suggesting the same previous owner as the blouse.

As she sat in study, she had her fingers in her mouth, though she only bit her nails when she was nervous. Today, she had a well planned speech for the prince, she would tell him where to find the rest of the prophecy, and her part of the play would be finished. She did not envy the prince, for she was happy being alone in the woods. She had been abandoned as a young child, just before her eighth birthday. She was simply led to the edge of the woods, and left there, while her mother went back inside the castle. It was assumed that the elves would take a greater interest in her than the humans, who considered her half elf. But the elves were no better, and called her half human. And so she was outcast from two different societies.

Her only place of sanctuary was this hovel. She had found it during her first winter alone. It was bitterly cold outside, and starting to snow. Diarie knew that she would be buried alive if she did not find some place for shelter. In the distance, she had seen a glowing square, which indicated a window of a home, with a warm fire inside. She went towards the light, with the only expectation of it being a hunter's lodge, where she might find shelter for the night, and then have to move on at daybreak. But when she got there, the house was empty. A fire burned in the hearth, and there were supplies for the winter, but no one was there. After looking around, she found a note on the middle table. She had learned some reading from her mother during her first few years, and could make out most of the words. It read, "Hello, darling. Welcome to my house. I suppose you shall be spending some time here, so make yourself at home. You shall understand your purpose in good time."

And so she followed the parts she could understand, namely, 'welcome to my house,' and, 'make yourself at home.' She spent her first winter there, and learned to read, for there were some simple instruction books among the tomes on the shelves. This only encouraged her appetite for knowledge, and for once in her life, she felt accepted. The books did not judge her, they did not throw her out because she was different, they did not cross the street when they saw her coming. In short, they just were. They accepted her for who she was, and allowed her to experience their joy, which could only be experienced through literary mastery. It was through these books that she gained an interest in the power of magic. She had taught herself the arts of necromancy and illusion. At these she was proficient, but she was currently working on learning some summoning spells, as they provided her with assorted friends with which she could share company.

A rustle outside the door brought her back to reality, and she focused her full attention to the task at hand. She had all her answers well prepared. She would send the prince on his fool's errand, knowing that he would surely fail unless she traveled with him, and was able to guide him. But what good would it do? The kingdom had never cared for her, and had actually excommunicated her simply because she was of mixed blood. She was an outcast in a society that demanded purity.

She approached the door, to open in suddenly and surprise her guests, as a show of her talent and power. But it was she who was surprised, as the door burst open on her. She was flung back, and knocked into a heavy wooden table, toppling its contents to the floor. She blinked, with her mind in a daze, and looked up, prepared to reprimand the prince for this callous act. But as her face turned heavenward, she saw a set of flaming red eyes in a rusted iron helmet. She didn't notice any other part of the death knight's body, for the eyes had her enraptured. They shone with an intense red light, which flickered as if they were on fire. If you looked closely, you could tell they stood alone in the eye sockets, which were just the bone structure of the skull. It was as if the life of the death knight was shining out through those sockets, displaying that he was a member of the undead.

She had read about these creatures in one of her books. It said that death knights were among the most deadly of the demon race, in that they can kill with a single word. From the corner of her eye, Diarie was a skeletal hand rising, with a single finger pointed toward her. She knew when it pointed at her heart, she would be dead. She had a spell memorized to protect against just such an occasion, but the words failed her in the presence of the actual creature. Its figure spawned a dread in everyone who saw it. The undead creature stank of rotting flesh, and its putrid odor permeated the room. The mephitic smell made her want to vomit, but the horror inflicted by the eyes abruptly halted her gag reflex.

The death night took a step toward her, and though she tried desperately to tear her gaze from those burning eyes, the glowing orbs which were boring holes through her head and into her brain, and stalling her reactions. Her last thoughts were of the prince, 'Oh great, what's going to happen when the prince gets here and finds me dead. That's just going to make his day. Oh, I don't wanna die!' By then the outstretched finger was level with her heard, and she heard the death knight say, "Di--uh." This was followed by a loud thud coupled with the clanging of metal.

Then she could move, the burning eyes having been extinguished. In her ecstasy, it took her a moment to realize what had transpired. Finally, she looked up to see what had happened. When she did, she was amazed to see a knight in shining armor. She had read some fairy tales, in which these mysterious being were said to save damsels in distress, but she had never had any personal experience with them. The shining figure was looking down at her, with his hand extended to help her up, when he said, "Sorry we took so long. Looks like we arrived just in time."

Diarie had expected something a little more romantic from this mystical creature, but downplayed her own amazement at being alive. "I could have handled it," she said with a tone of boredom. But it seemed as though some of the death knight's curse was still effecting her, but now she couldn't take her eyes off her savior. Only her own ego kept her from voicing this praise.

Then the knight stepped into the room, and out of the sunlight of outside. Diarie could now get a better look at the knight. He was a good deal younger than she had expected. Perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Not nearly old enough to have any serious battle experience. But it was exactly this youth that made him attractive to her. She was only seventeen, so simply having her savior be a year or two older than her was romantic. He was tall, almost six foot, and seemed well muscled. Though that was to be expected, as he was a knight, she still found it amazing. The knight had brown hair, which was accented by streaks of blonde, and blonde tips. His hair shone radiantly, even without him being out in the sun. He had brown eyes, which were accented by long eyelashes, which is rare in men. His nose appeared to have been broken at some point, but it was still well defined, and added a bit of character to his face. His skin was an olive tone, but still held a decent glow. Everything about him seemed perfect as far as Diarie was concerned. She thought, 'If he's going on this quest, then maybe I will go after all...'

While Diarie was occupied with her musings, Kairo stepped into the room, being careful to avoid the fallen death knight. He was instantly reminded of the library at the castle. It had the musty odor of hundreds of books, which was coupled with the homely smells of a kitchen. The tomes on the shelves called to him, for he was an avid bookworm. He hardly noticed Diarie, and only after he had gazed about the room in wonder did his eyes come back to rest upon her.

Xanthos, the knight, was first to speak. "Are you OK?" he asked. His tone was warm and inviting. Though he may have just been demonstrating his training, this chivalry was taken as pure kindness and caring by the fallen maiden. She grabbed his hand so he could help her up, and she stuttered, "Yeah, uh, thanks."

"Are you the famous witch of the forest?" Kairo asked. While Diarie was somewhat offended that he would interrupt her conversation with the knight in shining armor, she was duly offended that he would call her a witch. But those insults were nothing compared to his next remark, as he continued sarcastically, "Seems as though your fame was somewhat undeserved." He gestured toward the death knight as he spoke.

At this comment, Diarie turned a lovely shade of scarlet, and was beginning to reconsider her earlier statement about going on the quest. Exasperated, she said, "Are you here because of the prophecy?

"No, we just thought we'd make a social call to a witch that lives in the middle of nowhere," Kairo continued with his sarcasm.

Fortunately for both of them, Xanthos intervened by saying, "Yes, we're here because of the prophecy. My father said you would be the one to consult about it, as you are the only remaining authority on the subject."

Diarie sighed as she said, "I do not have the entire prophecy, only the first part. My piece tells about the downfall of the kingdom, and how to get the second part. It is held by the elves, in Elfdale. That is because this conflict will require the combined efforts of all the races. As far as I know, there are only three parts, the final being held by the dwarves. Once we find a piece of the prophecy, we have to bring its bearer along with us, thus incorporating the different peoples into our journey."

Xanthos waited politely until she had finished before he queried, "Just because I'm curious, but what is all this 'we' stuff? I was just supposed to escort the prince to see you, and then escort him back. I didn't agree to any journeying."

This pained Diarie, as she expected Xanthos to want to go on the trip, if only because she was going. Then she came up with a witty remark, "Oh, but you will escort the prince, during the entire quest." She smiled, thinking he could get away that easily. Then she continued, "And its not like you're the only one that has to go on this trip. I have to go too, whether I like it or not."

At this point, Kairo entered the discussion. "What are we waiting for, then?" he asked, "We should be getting back to the castle so we can get supplies, not arguing over who has to go, and who can stay home. The entire kingdom is in peril, and here you are arguing over petty details. Let's just bring everyone and get it over with!"

"That wouldn't work," Diarie interjected, "We need a small party to go. You should have read the tales." She looked up distractedly, as if she was reviewing some lesson, and continued, "A few, select people get to go into the heart of enemy territory and face the source of evil in one on one conflict. You don't just barge in with an army!"

"All right," it was Kairo again, "Then at least let us go back to the castle and get supplies. We're the only ones that are going to be with us from the start of this mission, correct?"

"Yes, though you might want to hurry if you want to get your supplies. The enemy knows about the prophecy, and is going to be looking for you." Diarie replied.

"That's what I've been telling you!" Kairo sounded exasperated. He shook his head, and just said, "Let's go," and turned towards the door. But no sooner had he done this, than the death knight let out a groan.

"YOU DIDN'T KILL IT!?" Diarie shrieked.

Xanthos calmly replied, "I'm sorry, but I don't have a whole lot of experience killing undead. I thought that if I hit it in the head hard enough it would die. That's what happens to people, so I figured it would work. How are you supposed to kill undead, anyway?"

"You have to kill it with magic, or hack it to pieces. The reincarnation spell only works on the torso, so if you cut off the limb, they are useless," Diarie instructed.

"Easy enough," Xanthos said, and moved to dismember the creature. But as he neared the downed demon, it rose on one knee, and looked up to face Xanthos. Seeing an opponent, it rose to its full height and drew its sword.

"OUTSIDE!" Diarie screamed. She didn't want her house ruined by fighting, and temporarily abandoned her fear of the undead for the fear of long the knowledge encased on her shelves. The death knight, perhaps scared by the loud noise, or from a remnant of chivalry, turned and walked out the door. Xanthos followed at a distance.

Once outside, the death knight turned to face his opponent. There was a clearing in front of the house, as it was a comparatively highly trafficked area, and no underbrush could grow. To one side of the clearing was a patch of berry bushes, which provided Diarie with a source of food. On the other side of the house, there was a wood chopping block, and an ax. Even though the house had its own magical fire, Diarie often found it easier to simply use a regular flame. The rest of the clearing was surrounded by a bit of a hill, as the house was in a valley. And beyond that, the towering trees of the forest grew in abundance.

The death knight wore the rusted plate mail of some forgotten empire. The crest on the front had long since ceased to be legible, and now appeared as only a circular indent on the armor itself. The knight's helmet was equally rusted, though showed that it's wearer had some rank during life. The sides flared out around the jaw, and came to points. On the top, there were holes for possible plumage. However, his had disintegrated long ago. The flaming eyes were still the only evidence of life the knight displayed, but it wouldn't use the death spell on Xanthos. That was a trick for getting rid of an obstacle, not a technique to use when engaged in one-on-one combat, it would be dishonorable.

Both combatants took their fighting stances. The death knight stood ready, with his sword extended in front of him, and his knees bent, to facilitate easy movement. This was the usual fighting pose that was taught at most schools. But Xanthos' stand was quite a bit different. He stood almost perfectly straight, with his sword vertically in front of him. This did not seem to be a very effective pose, for it allowed for little motion in any direction, and provided the least amount of reaction time. Even more puzzling than the pose was the fact that he had his eyes closed. This flew in the face of all teaching methods, logic, and common sense. Yet there he stood, an accomplished knight, given the charge of defending the most important person alive, in the most awkward fighting stance ever.

The birds quieted, sensing some event about to take place. Even the wind around them quieted expectantly. Kairo and Diarie stood by the door silently, afraid to get caught up in the fray. Kairo, who had some experience with physical combat, could tell that Xanthos stand was unusual, but was unable to decipher whether it was a good unusual or a bad unusual. Diarie saw only her knight in shining armor.

The death knight, seeing Xanthos with his eyes closed, and seemingly off guard, charged at him, and swung his sword to decapitate Xanthos. With his eyes still closed, Xanthos deflected the blade over his head, and swung his sword in an arc to hack at the unprotected back of the death knight. In doing this, he managed to dislocate one of the arms of the undead captain. Fortunately for Xanthos, in undead creatures, dislocating a limb is the same as having it cut off completely, since their body parts aren't connected with any tissues.

Xanthos, with his eyes still closed, took up his awkward stance again. The death knight appeared undaunted by the loss of its arm, and turned and charged back at Xanthos almost before he had completed his first charge. This time, the death knight tried a different technique, and tried to take out Xanthos' legs with his sword. This time, Xanthos had to move a bit more to damage his opponent. By thrusting his sword into the ground at his feet, he blocked the blade of his opponent, but then he used the sword as a pole vault and jumped into the air and kicked the death knight in the face. The force of the blow dropped the death knight in his tracks, and he fell with a din of clattering armor and bones. Then, while the death knight was still off guard, Xanthos landed from his kick between the sword and the death knight, and with his hands still on the hilt of the sword, pulled it out of the ground, raised it over his head, and severed both of the death knight's legs in one fell swing.

He then jumped back, just before the death knight's sword swung to take out his legs again. At this point it was obvious that the death knight was oblivious to pain, and would continue attacking until it had been completely destroyed. But just before Xanthos was forced to make a direct attack on the death knight, a blinding light came from the direction of the house. An arrow streaked from Diarie's outstretched arms, and pieced the death knight's chest. Instantaneously, the death knight fell back and collapsed in a pile of dust.

Convinced that the fight was over, Xanthos sheathed his sword, and opened his eyes and faced the house again. But when he saw Kairo, he was pointing over Xanthos' shoulder at the hills that surrounded the hut. His face was picturesque of fear, and it was obvious that there was some malevolent presence there, so Xanthos turned around cautiously. It was then that he noticed that the fight seemed to have gained quite an audience. What looked like hundreds of skeletons encircled the valley, with their cruelly twisted blades. Some wore helmets, and might have been soldiers during their lifetimes, but others had nothing but the swords. These skeletons were decent working folk during their lives, but had been twisted by the dark arts to create perverted and evil soldiers for dark lords.

"This is what I was warning you about," Diarie whispered to Kairo, "They know you are the one, and they are here to kill you." Even though skeletons were among the lowest order of undead, in large numbers they could be formidable. As she looked around, the situation appeared hopeless. Though she was confident in Xanthos fighting skill, she was almost certain that he wouldn't be able to confront an entire army of skeletons. But then she saw something that sparked a bit of hope in her heart. There was a gap in the circle. It seemed as though one or two skeletons had gotten lost, and missed their place. So she pointed, and called to Xanthos, "If we can get through that gap, we might be able to get away." Skeletons were not renowned for their running ability.

No sooner had she mentioned this than Xanthos was running towards the place with his sword drawn. He had fought skeletons before, and knew that surprise was a great enemy against them. Diarie and Kairo ran after him, knowing that they had to escape the deadly circle before it started to close.

Before they knew what had happened, two of the skeletons near the gap had fallen to pieces from Xanthos' blade. But shortly, the other skeletons were reacting. He had to actually fight with another two skeletons to widen the gap enough that they could safely get by. But that was accomplished by the time Diarie and Kairo had gotten there. Then the three of them ran off into the woods together.

Kairo wasn't used to this sort of physical exertion, so he had to speak between gasps when he said to Diarie, "Now would be a good time to display some of your famous magical skills."

Diarie, in an attempt to silence the boy's attitude stopped running, and turned around. Then, with a few words uttered in a strange and ancient language, she pointed her finger at a nearby tree. In a burst of flame, it fell across their path. The fire would not spread, given its magical origins, but it would at least provide an obstacle for their pursuers.

Now all that was left was to get back to the castle. But perhaps every hundred paces, they would be accosted by another group of skeletons, and have to stop and kill them. Additionally, they had not left the valley in the direction of the castle, and were disoriented by the new terrain. Only be relying on Diarie's memory of the area were they able to get back on track. But this took time, and the running was taking its toll on the travelers. When and whether they would be able to make it back to the castle seemed entirely dependent on their endurance level, which was rapidly diminishing.