The warm hilt leather of the sword soothes my quivering hand as I look up into the desolate sky. It must have been only a mere fortnight since Sir Lorial's fleet terrorized my innocent village of Kylasner and kidnapped Prince Orpenhue. Rapid, horrid images of that grim time shuffle through my head, and I desperately shake them away.

Father Crintman's mighty hand falls onto my shoulder and he sighs a defeated sigh. "Rorion," he began. "Do not trouble yourself over the past. Instead, we must summon our anger and adrenaline, and unleash it on the Kingdom."

"How might we do that, Father?" I anxiously inquired.

I turn to him and he smiles a cynical smile. "Tomorrow night, a legion of Kylasnerians alongside ourselves, will storm the Kingdom from all entrances, take back Prince Orpenhue, and reclaim the Mystical Jewel of Trongdong."

After reassuringly nodding, I returned my eyes to the sky, thinking about Father's bold plan. I suppressed a grin when a pleasurable thought returned to my head: Father Crintman neglected to consider the Jewel's guardians, the Four Horses of Chawsmander.

Michael Welsh