Chapter 1 Pack Slayer

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He fired one arrow into the darkness. It sailed passed his vision and embedded itself missing the target. Quickly he back peddled hammering in another wooden bolt, this soaken pony running for his life. He could hear the scurry and the growls and snarls as wolves themselves stocked in the foliage, around trees and over bushes as they collaborated with one another, tracking their prey, running him down in the darkest part of the night with only the faintest of stars to guide him away from danger.

He ran over a mound, heard jaws snap. He turned yanking himself around relying on his hearing alone to pinpoint the origin and fired. There was a raw thud accompanied with a faint squelch. ‘Wounded,’ he thought to himself. It wasn’t the sound of a death cry.

The pack didn’t let up. This particular one, eight in number, now turned to seven useful bodies. They knew he wasn’t a deer or ox or cow at that. They knew he was something smarter but all the same something to eat nonetheless. For what he made up for in intelligence they knew could be countered by utter exhaustion and fatigue.

Mace had kept track his remaining shots: Ten explosive bolts, sixteen normal wooden bolts. He couldn’t go wasting any more shots in the dark of night even in this critical circumstance. Even with this wisdom could he even last until day? Only a few hours in and many more to go. It would be a miracle if he did. Even with his extensive experience, great conditioning and excellent stamina, wolves as a beast were born of the wild. They naturally knew better.

He blindly bounced off a tree but continued to race forward keeping them behind him preventing them from surrounding. He heard the pounding of paws and a moment later he was tackled to the ground. The wolf buried its fangs into his armor and equipment, biting into the crossbow at his side. He struggled and wiggled and broke free turning to face the wolf and firing one bolt to the skull as he scampered to his hooves. It let out a weak whimper before falling dead.

Another pounced but he heard it. Ducking under the flying wolf he firing his second bolt wounding it. He hammered one shot before another one charged him but Mace wrapped his hooves around the underside of the wolf and with his strength, threw it against a tree slamming its body as hard as he could against the harden bark. It scampered away retreating back to his pack already having closed in on him.

“Ah C'mon you all!” he shouted in frustration as he rapidly spun around with his ears sharpening in on the closest sound. He fried. ‘Miss,’ but it caused the wolf to hold off his attack until his next opening. He hammered another shot into his left sided crossbow and in his right he hammered one explosive bolt. The gears and springs wined with complaint. A side affect from landing in the great lake of Carridian of bad tasting, heavily salted water where there is no out flow but where almost every significant river flows to in the end.

He backed into a tree franticly looking around for the next attacker. ‘There!’ he fired and rolled out of the way just as the limp carcase of his kill rammed into the tree, dead.

Six alive one still wounded making five useful bodies.

There was a howl immediately cut off by a well placed bolt from Mace with ears on alert. The wolf tried calling for reinforcements to fortify their numbers. Four useful bodies, thirteen normal bolts and ten explosives. “Hurry one now!” he taunted again still tired, still weary. “I can do this all night,” he lowered his left sight, something he almost never did but he needed the extra accuracy if he was going to fire an explosive bolt.

There was another call. This time a distance howl. Seems heard the call for numbers and were now on there way. The four wolves stalking him wouldn’t make any rash engagements until the others got here leaving Mace with the only option to continue running in hopes he finds a proper way of evading them as they stayed tight on his hooves.

Adrenaline still coursing and night vision withstanding, he continued fast as before leaping over rocks dodging trees sprinting the tall clear grass openings between canopies. East, he would keep running east. That was his only goal was to continue east until he found Noriphmy how ever far it was.

Behind he could hear the four beginning to converge so he artfully darted around a few choice trees attempting to bottleneck them. Wiping his body back coming to a skidding halt he lined up his left crosshairs aimed his head, felt the wires of his crossbows adjust to match the positioning of his head and with one swift motion, flicked his left ear back firing one explosive bolt into the darkness.

It hit the dirt where as a big fiery dirt plumb shot into the air significantly injuring two leaving two more left to follow. “Just give up,” he panted. “Just give up you dafted wolves.” Another howl from the approaching group. This time much, much closer. Nine explosives, twelve normal, six more hours left in the night and then what? Wolves didn’t shy away from the light. His circumstances would be no different in the day than it was now but he didn’t adhere to logic in his desperate struggle. He only believed that if he can last until day he could ward off these attackers. These naturally wild hunters.

More barks, more pounding paws signifying the arrival of a new hunting pack. Seven in numbers, nine in total. Twelve shots leaving only a margin of four shots to survive. Unless they finally concede to defeat which from Maces perspective didn’t seem to be possible. They were too ambitious to give up such a fight.

With poor vision he tripped falling face first. Quickly he picked himself up but not before they took the opening. First attack and Mace was tackled to the ground once again and as he struggled beneath the one wolf trying to bite through his armor another one snapped at Maces leg. It barely nipped the falconer but even still he returned a heavy hoof to the face. Mace rolled his body over pushing the wolf on top to his side and a third leapt on him, and a fourth, and a fifth and soon not too long they were all on top of him.

He screamed in terror as some bit into his plated mail which protected him but another got hold of his fore hoof crushing it in its fangs refusing to let go. He screamed again as he uselessly struggled, kicking, thrashing, bucking but nothing seemed to work. He got pawed in the face as one wolf tried to get a better angle. Another bit his exposed hind leg locking on with the strength of a death grip.

He didn’t cease to scream as he could feel both bones in both legs begin to be crushed along with the skin utterly torn and bleeding. He was convinced this was the end, that he had finally met his match. Not a beast, not a dragon but a pack of wolves. He was utterly disappointed in himself for not having lived up to his father. What ever name he went by during his final days before he was betrayed only weeks ago. Killed at the talents of a King in the presence of Noriphmy. Only now Mace himself dies at the mercy of ravenous wolves within the foreboding lands of Carridain. Near opposites and far less glorious.

As the wolves continued to tear and pin him down he wondered if his friends were in the very least alive. Did he save Joel for good? Did Igneous ever make it back on top of the bride with a string shot lodged in his shoulder. Did Kara die in the instance they were gone and did Dettetcheny too?

The last few thoughts before a hero died. Coming to terms with the inevitable his struggled began to lessen and the wolves never ceased their thrashing.

Suddenly there was a yelp and the sound of metal grinding against metal and the wolves quickly fell back away from Mace. His thoughts disoriented and senses dulled as he looked to see the wolves taking on a new target. One looking much like him and glistening with armor, again, like his, but his weapons were something that he never saw before, instead only heard about.

This pony took the chains in his magical grip yanking them around were they orbited his bodie. The blades cutting through trees and finding its mark within the wolf sticking lethally inside. He yanked at the same time bring a new line of chained down swiping past his own legs and hitting the nape of a wolf just behind him.

Fire suddenly appeared and with his power he spread it out in a circle of heat catching every nearby tree bush and blade of grass on fire, brightening the night and blinding Mace to the sudden exposure. As he weakly held a hoof up to his eyes he saw the silhouette of the figure. A pony reeling in chains with dripping blood as he attached the bladed end to the side of his armor allowing the rest to hang loose. As the wolves retreated this pony laughed and said, “Hahaha be gone and find game elsewhere.”

Then Mace noticed a new detail he found strikingly hard to miss. This pony had no catalyst yet he wielded weapons meant for a unicorn with ease no to mention the alchemy of fire too. Instead he bore wings but with the light of the now surrounding fire he could see these wings had no feathers. Only the frame of a celestial’s wing itself.

Fearing for his life he turned to leave but collapsed immediately after stepping on both of his terribly injured legs crying out in immense pain as they gave out beneath him not even bothering to withstand his weight. He rolled over, left fore hoof cupping his right tooth-torn leg screaming in pain. He would rather have taken a slayer arrow than this.

“Hey,” came the familiar voice of the stranger who had saved him. “Stop, let me help you.”

He shuddered in agony. If this pony said he wanted to help they by all means why should Mace prevent him from doing so. “Grsh, just, argh, do it,” he moaned.

With haist the stranger examined the wounds even as the fire burned on. This Hexer’s expert opinion told him Mace was seriously injured but it was nothing he couldn’t take care of. He nodded to himself while Mace continued to grimace with eyes shut tight. The stranger put a hoof up to his head concentrated for a bit and pulled it away with a orb of light, small as it was, the size of a marble. “Sit still, sit still,” he bidded. “I don't want to mishandle this.” Raising his hoof he aimed for the chest to spread the healing properties of his light magic all over the body making him well again. Accuracy was kea but the worst that could happen was he end up in a state much better just not as great as he could be if he did handled it properly.

Bringing his hoof down he hit Mace center in the chest upon his armor that covered his body. The white orb of light magic phased through the armor and was immediately taken in by the body were as Mace began to subside into ease. He watched as his wounds stopped bleeding and soon after slowly began to close up.

He sat up from where he was armor, crossbows and all. Enamored by the sight of his wounds slowly pulling themselves together right before his eyes he said, “What kind of light magic is this?” He asked although he already knew it was that of the healing variety but he never witnessed light magic this potent before.

The stranger patted Mace on the back with a grin on his face and said, “That my friend is Hexer healing magic for ya. Fancy it, yes?”

It took him a moment to catch on but then in great interest he said, “Hexer?” Recollection occurred and he jumped to his newly healed hooves. “Hexer!” he yelled in surprise. “Your a Hexer? Wha, I thought there was no more Hexers. Yourger argh Hexer?!!” Yourger argh being mumbo jumbo speech not holding any type of meaning in Maces surprised state. He wanted to be in disbelief, to doubt but there he was right there just as stories and legends described them.
Strong glistening armor with chains that snaked across the plates of metal anchored to tracks made to guide them round and where the chains met the last link there was two blades protruding outward in a pick axe like form.

He held up a hoof and said, “yes I am a Hexer. Most ponies get just as excited but I can say you're a bit toned down from the rest. Just a smidge.” He detached one of his bladed chained ends and suddenly the two blades pivoted coming together to form a spear head, but at the length it held it might have well been a piked end.

“I didn’t think Hexers wondered.” he said eyeing the blade. “I thought they had other things to do,”

“Like what?” He snickered. “Are you not grateful I rescued you,” he asked. “I was fortunate to happen upon you to begin with.” Then he tilted his head in curiosity at Mace and said, “Actually just what were you doing this far into Carridian? How did you make it this far if you nearly died just this night?”

Mace dropped his head. Well that's going to be a hard question to answer. “Uh…” he clumsily began as he wondered exactly how he was going to start off. “Well… I met this character named Joel…”

He went into story about his long journey with Igneous, Kara and Joel along with Hilliph. They were sent to aquire the light magic of Aminus before the group known as the Gekies Getuies did. However complications within this journey occurred and now the day was bright with hardly a cloud in sight but clouds to be had around regardless. In the middle of the land laid a vast lake so large the other end couldn’t be seen from ground level. Surrounding this lake for half a mile on all fronts was nothing but salted sand and soon after grass that dared to grow and trees slower to brave forward as the grass itself.

It was a peaceful day were nothing unusual was supposed to happen only a rift of light in the sky over this great lake opened up spilling out rocks, debris and unadulterated chaos as it continuously poured material out of thin air sending it crashing to the water sending waves flying in all directions.

Suddenly out of the rift a colossal dark figure dropped from above back facing the ground as it roared in defeat and along with it a pony screaming in terror as he fell too. Aminus crashed into the water sending tidal waves crashing ashore far past the treeline insuring the land would soon go sterile do to the water's high concentration in salt.

Mace washed ashore wheezing and coughing as huge plumes of steam erupted into the air. Aminus roared with rage hidden behind the smoke screen and Mace got the senses to run away so he did dragging his body through the retreating waters ignoring the awful smell associated, focusing only on getting away. Far away.

Aminus dragged his huge, scaly, black head around and as he did he saw every tree, bush, grass and living animal retreating from the sudden cataclysmic event unfolding before them. Then through the smoke screen he set his sights on Mace running for dear life. “Ar’ I see you Mace Volcod,” his voice boomed as he drug every word out, stretching his massive claws forward resting them below the surface of the lake as he pulled himself forward. His natural born fire spewing from the cracks of his scales igniting the water and turning it to vapor.

The earth pony only seemed to be motivated to move faster and faster, but Aminus and his colossal size only closed the distance bring his leviathan claws crashing down on the pony entrapping him within his steady grasp. “Ah-I have you,” He said pulling his massive body onto land crawling on all fours with tail waving high in the air blowing trees arry with every flick of its end.

Mace thought this was it. ‘I'm done. I'm gonna die,’ he thought. ‘This dragon is going to eat me and soon after I’ll be nothing.’ he was beginning to bake underneath the heat of his claws. His scales secreted the life of fire itself giving his body as a whole an ominous red glow to the black exterior color.

But suddenly this great dragon huffed and collapses to the ground dropping Mace safely to the floor. Mace kicked himself away against a tree and the Dragon loudly said, “no. Mortal. Don’t run. I-It's tiring.”

This threw Mace off. This dragon minutes ago was intent to kill throwing magic left and right using his alchemy to collapse the fortress but wait. He remembered just before he fell Joel threw his stolen dark magic destroying his alchemy but if it was destroyed why did he still breath and secret fire?

“Ha,” politely scoffed the Hexer. “A dragon doesn't need alchemy to wield fire. Other elements yes but fire is natural to the creature. Flows within the blood.” Mace having understood the logic behind the statement continued on with the reacountaning.

The dragon breathed in really deeply exhaling smoke out of its fanged mouth and nostrils blowing trees off balance giving Mace a new mane style: Frizzled to say the least.

It laid its monolithic head on the soft terrain, deprived of energy and imprinting his scales upon the land itself. His wings, lacking skin to glide on but remained only the frame like the Hexer prior, outstretched and fell to the ground too. ‘Is he dying?’ Mace thought to himself as the tree blew in the breath of the dragon.

Aminus growled as he exhaled, it being low and thunderous. His bright yellow slitted eyes remained open and trained on Mace the entire time piercing his soul. “You,” the dragon said. “Do I look powerful?” What kind of question was that. This was a godlike being yet it acted so mortal. “Do I look powerful?” he asked again still lying half submerged beneath the lake, letting more steam rise above, resting it seemed.

“Powerful?” he asked. This was Aminus the Colossal black Dragon. The very one who destroyed all of Carridian placing a curse on Freath and wasting all of Istudious. Well most of it really. “I-I don’t.”

“Gaze at me,” he commanded tiredly with hardly a shift of his gaw. “Alchemy shattered, light magic spent. Unable to soar. Dark magic is all I hold now. You lainneth Falconers. You did this? No it was the dark magic of Noriphmy, that stallion… Joel.” He said his name again letting it hang in the air for a long time. “He is not of Carridian or this world. How did you happen upon him?”

“Found him,” he said quietly looking to the ground doing his best not to provoke the colossal dragon.

Again the dragon exhaled tiredly. “He weakened me. That dark magic. Granted to him by Noriphmy himself. The dragon slayer many do call. Imprisoner seems to me.” He sat there for moments more. “That king. My salvation, grew doubtful in the end over the blood of a friend A covenant abandoner. His form is finalized. I should smite you little pony. But that is beneath me. Many many leagues below.” Again the torrent of wind as he exhaled. “You may run now little pony. I don't sport but I will return. Quenched with magic and set for the duty laid before. Mark my words. The words of a dragon.”

Chapter 2 The Covenant of Guardian

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It was a darkened night, snow just beginning to flake. Rivers faintly solidifying and trees lacking its greenery it held only weeks ago. The northern mountains were shrouded by the darkened night and the southern were so far that the horizon itself hid it from view. Mace however was very unaware as he laid there in his wolf made fleece as well as the pieces of meat that hung over his back as his fire burning warmly enough to allow him to forget about the present and leave to the past.

That Hexer. How boldly he seemed. Always when they woke he would say, “Right hunter. Let's keep moving.” They then would spend the day walking westward towards Freath. Mace talked little knowing that he couldn’t run home and that the Hexer couldn’t abandon the call. It was an odd circumstance but Mace came to the acceptance that the greater good is better than personal want of a single soul. So with the hide of a wolf he slayed he followed the Hexer as each of them carried hangings of meat; Deer and wolf.

Days would pass, small game hunting and roasting, traveling side by side in the others company. When the Hexer would fall into conversation it was when Mace felt like asking a few questions about his previous adventure that led him here.

He started with the book one day. “The book,” the Hexer said. “Ah yes, that book was of my handy work. You see I traveled a lot during the years after the Black dragon. I found myself in Istudious, those poor ponies, fighting with the armor of their ancestors.

“My presents was known only to one and that was archiver Donnavitch. We became great friends and I left a little peace of literacy in his keep. A guide that happened to lead you here. done in a matter of only days.”

Hours later Mace would ask about the thieves entrance. “Oh the thieves entrance? That marvel of engineering, you see it sat in a vast underground aquifer kept in motion and alive by massive turbines. It test your skill and cunningness however most often a party is required along with some equipment to even make it. And if you do… well then why not be rewarded with the treasury of our very own. The least a good Hexer could do.

“No pony fell to it, at least to the extent of my knowledge and no pony should have. The true entrance was left open anyways. Ashur the gatekeeper should have welcomed you. It's very odd, that prestigious Hexer was not one to terry away from his post. How… unfortunate. But I do say I find it rather odd how such a Hexer of seclusion became the only name, second to Noriphmy, to be known amongst the Nation of Noriphmy. Hm… very odd.”

Then came why his wings had no feathers. “Well you see hunter we Hexers sail on wings of light. A celestial as I would rather see his feathers stripped than the whole of the wing taken away. That would very well much… hurt, to say the least. It was common practice amongst us, the celestials that is. It is the most powerful way to travel but mind you I would rather not expel all my light magic at once. It would take a rather long time to gather it back from the world before I am able to perform such an act again. Hence why you travel next to me today.”

And then finally he asked about the magic dark magic of Noriphmy. “Oh? You say it was acquired by a fellow named Joel? It's an odd name to say the least; not one I ever heard. It was a secretive vault made by Bawl himself. Why Noriphmy would give up his magic all together was beyond me but you see I didn’t question this Hexer as he lived many, many years longer than the lot of us. Very powerful too.

“Why the essence of alchemy and light magic were already acquired is beyond me. Even more as to why only the dark magic of Noriphmy was left to stay. However it's not too hard to guess. Light and alchemy magic is more infamous in nature. Joel should consider himself lucky to have the magic of protection and sanction. I hope he puts it to great use in his life.”

Then a few days later Mace asked about Aminus. He expected an answer like all the rest were he would first show signs of carefully considering his answer before going into his carefully articulated explanation. However the Hexer only paused for a moment then said with a misleading smile, “Let's… not talk about insightful dragons.”

And as suddenly as Mace was made known to this Hexer many weeks ago he suddenly vanished in the night. Mace awoke dawning the Hexer’s armor and equipment and with a strange sense of power unlike any he had felt before. The Hexer’s last words before he fell to sleep at the wayside of a fire was, “Freath. How fowl.” He abandoned the call, falling to fear.

His own equipment was aside a tree along with the wolf fleece and Mace realized the choice was still his. Go to Freath, a place even a Hexer wouldn’t dare go and falter to during their calling, or the much preferred alternative. Go home. Resume his life as a Falconer instead. Hopefully finding Igneous Joel and Kara too. It seemed much better but in the stillness of the day the wind slightly shuttered and the birds stuttered in their songs as notes fell out of pitch. His ears flicked up panning to the left and to the right. Keeping his head low as eyes scanned the treeline one thought exploded in his mind, an all too familiar feeling at that too. A beast was present.

He was out of his element. He didn’t know how to use this armor. He didn’t even know how to enact this new found magic. However he did feel attached to the Hexers armor and looking down at his chained blades that hung beside him he did his best to lift them to no avail.

Suddenly the songs of the birds halted altogether and an eerie silence fell over the land. Again he scanned the tree line, ears swiveling, senses on high. Where was this thing? He took a step back snapping a twig that produced a deafening crack in the stillness of the day.

Then the beast pounced.

Mace looked over his shoulder and in an instant rolled backwards to see the beast pulverise the ground he had just occupied with its deadly claws. He sprang back up to his hooves and saw the beast from behind. It back held no hair giving way to a bony spinal column. It seemed very muscular and its tail was laced with thorns. It’s shoulders hung unproportionally low and when it turned its face was mostly a gaping maw with small little slits as eye holes. It was lined with teeth all the way back to the throat in a circular jigsaw. It had no hands but instead stumps with thorny bones sticking through and its feet just looked like a mesh of mated dead skin.

A beast if any. A greater beast by classification as it stood on two. Mace looked to his armor sitting beside the tree just next to the monster. He wondered if he could somehow manage to get it on and land a few explosive arrows, but only one obstacle posed as a problem. He didn’t know how to properly unequip the Hexers armor to even begin with.

The beast then swiped for him and Mace rolled out of the way of its thorny grip into the forest. He was swift and agile. The many years of being a falconer since he was a colt enabling him to live just that much longer.

Trees he left behind in retreat exploded into wooden shrapnel and bark as the hunter chased after the pony. Mace’s legs propelling him as fast as fear and survival would allow. His blood rushed, adrenaline pumped and he feared for his mortal life as he weaved around trees and bushes doing his best to slow his pressure down with the tricky obstacles.

This however didn’t work as the beast simply plowed through each and every one beginning to gain. Mace whimpered as he jumping over a small ditch as he landed on a boulder which, to his dismay, gave way at his step causing him to lose balance falling to the ground in a heap of armor and chains.

Looking up he saw the beast already having closed in on him ready to deliver the one lethal blow and proceed to desecrate his body. The thoughts that ran through his mind in that split second poisoned his body paralyzing him to the core.

Suddenly, just before his life was end was assured, the horrific beast was blown to the ground by something too fast for Mace to see. Picking himself up he looked and found himself at the scene of a faceoff between two monstrous beings.

A new beast had entered the fray, and it stood their back hunched. Its opponent reeling from the attack and picking itself up from the ground, and for a brief moment Mace saw the second. It was completely white with what looked like a bony exoskeleton. Its head was rounded and elongated near the back. It showed no eyes only a jaw with a slithering tongue and sharp pointed teeth that overlapped the bottom half. Its hand were big and decently formed with claws that moved independently as it stood on two,just like the other, with a tail that methodically waved above the ground as if it retained a brilliant intelligence of its very own.

The tail was spiked with a long single plate of bone that curved near the tip and with this the beast bent forward striking the downed fiend in the back with a deafening thwack of impact. It pulled back striking again and again. Each one giving off an oppressing thump. It then lunged taking the beast by the head in its massive claws throwing it overhead and slamming it to the floor.

The first beast lashed out with a clawed, meaty hand only for it to bounce harmlessly off the whitened skeletal armor.

The whitened beast reeled back it’s second arm and clawed the body of the beast over and over ripping and tearing all the while the tail got to work to stabbing and impaling left and right, body and shoulder. It was horrific and Mace couldn't bear the sights but even still his eyes stayed fixed as flesh and bone became ripped and torn. The whitened beast then lowered his head and bore its fangs into the neck of the first whipping his head back, and along with, the flesh of the first.

Everything fell silent. The victorious beast grew more docile and as the whitened monster stood up it took two steps back. Mace watched in stunning aw as it took one last look at it, raised a clawed hand and did something that no monster should have done.
A light ray shot out from its palm finally putting an end to the first monsters life. That there proved itself to be a majin, something most ponies only prayed they never met. And it looked at Mace setting its rounded eyeless face on him.

He became frozen in undefined fear. It was a fear the dug deeper and pierced further than the pursuit of the first beast. He laid there pinned against the tree as the majin itself slowly began to creep over to him with steady steps as it crawled forward with its tail waving in its wake.

As it slowly made it way towards Mace, he thought for sure that this was it. Those wolves were foals play, this here was absolutely without a doubt death. “Do my senses deceive me?”

Did… did that majin just speak? “Wha…” he managed to say.

“You little pony,” it said. Its voice was deep like the vally of a mountain the you stand atop. “You are the son of Havel, yes?”

Only able to find his words he stuttered saying, “I a-am the s-son of…” Wait… did Mace know his father's true name? He went by manny, dropping all his old names and brandishing new ones whenever he felt like. “I don’t know his name,” he said dumbfounded with the striking revelation. Mabie he was just used to it.

“Ah yes now I remember. Perhaps the name of his son then. I'm positive he followed no such trend.” He set his bloodied clawed hands on the ground as he sat in much the same position Mace did with its spiny tail waving flicking blood with every interval. “Is your name Mace Volcod then?”

Swallowing he said, “Yes that is my name.”

“Should have thought,” he told himself. “You smell of him. That blood that flows within, it wouldn’t be a mistake to say you are him haha.”

His courage at this point wasn’t exactly the strongest but he felt just bold enough to ask, “What… Who are you? How do you know him?”

“Complicated,” he stated. “It's a long story but here is one thing I will say he was only a colt, so abandoned in the woods. Left to die as his fellow ponies died at the whim of otherlings? Murders have you. This colt relinquished me from such a nightmare, I was mindless and mad with rage, and I awoken again at the sight of him, and with this awakening the same was of my purpose. Forge a fourth covenant from the soul of a single, and be born the successor. One of a greater soul.” He let his words set in for a moment and he said not that Mace could grasp much of it in his suprised nature. However it came together when the beast said, “You Mace, are the successor. The one born with a greater soul and bound to the fourth covenant. The covenant of Guardian.”

“Is that your name?”

“Interestingly so,” said with his featureless face nodding. “You see your father sent me after you once he found you became lost to Carridian. Abandoned by Aminus and left to die, no?”

“He let me go,” he said.

“So seems, that black dragon is devious.” He then looked westwards and said, “I see you were on your way to Freath. Not many ponies, or insightful beings for that matter, find themselves longing for such a place. However I also see you dawn the Hexer equipment.” He looked over his shoulder to the dead beast he slayed and a deep chuckle came of him. “Ah Hexers, about extinct by now. I'm surprised most would rather kill themselves rather than fall to the curse of the covenant abandoners.”

“What do you mean covenant abandoners.”

The majin looked to Mace again. Its white teeth covered in blood as well as its tail that waved and claws that dug into the ground as it sat. “A penalty for abandoning the covenant of Sapience. I myself fell to it, but again I was relinquished.”

“You were a Hexer?”

Mace could feel the majins none existent eyes stare at him even as its head was angled slightly down off to the side as the majin breathed through its mouth with its tongue idle dancing around in times of silence. “Enough words Guardian,” the Majin said taking to Mace’s new found title. “You now have a purpose. You see Freath has claimed many Hexers alike. The fact that your dear Hexer abandoned the call was no surprise. None of them could expunge the nation of its dreaded curse. It threatens to burst you see. It will rack the entire valley of its boundless darkness.”

“How can you expect me to accomplish this task then?” he said becoming more and more comfortable with its presents. “I only just received this magic and I don’t have the proper knowledge on how to use this equipment.”

“Guardian you forget. You bear the greater soul. Its more powerful and stronger than any in Carridian. Freath and its curse will steer well away from you, I insure it. Thoe it doesn't hold true for those liken to me. Again Freath has claimed many Hexer before, and not many in death I should say.” Mace didn’t speak or say a word as it explained, “You see Mace you had a purpose since your birth, unnatural as it was. This was your legacy since that very day. You’ve been trained. Your agile, fast and intelligent. Strong too no doubt. If you leave the curse will spill over the borders of Freath and infect all of Caridian. It seems a rather unsavory alternative but one I'm sure you see rather grim, and in your present circumstance, unnecessary.”

Mace couldn’t help but admit this Majin was right. If what he said was true and his world would succumb to this plague than who is he to cower away. Especially when he apparently was the only one who could as unexpected as that was. His father taught him better and the parables he told further only strengthened it. “How will I accomplish this then?”

“Alone,” he said. “But not entirely. You may summon me through means of Light magic. After all I am bound to you through blood, same as your father. However I can’t go with you. The curse won't allow it Guardian.”

“How can I summon you?”

“By deepening the covenant,” it said raising a bloodied claw to Mace’s chest. “Sacrifice some blood, voluntarily or otherwise. It's a very precious commodity, especially in Freath. Then call for my name, Guardian, and I will come albeit in a different form. It won’t be me truly but something more of your own. It will protect you until you fall dead or dismiss it yourself but be warned it will expel your light magic swiftly then it will draws on physical strength until you're a drooling heap. To avoid this summon segments of me like my claws or tail. Your light magic will last longer in doing so. Keep that in mind.”

After the Majin had said this it picked itself up on two with its tail balancing and began to saunter away grasping trees for better balance. Mace jumped up and said, “Wait! Where are you going?”

Guardian stopped in his tracks. Clinging to a tree seeing as it was unsteady on two legs, it said, “Tell me. Ponies? Did they used to think of Hexers as gods, no?”

“Some did,” he answered. “A few still do.”

Guardian nodded and then said, “Then let's say I’m off to do a bit of… godly things. You know where Freath lies. My best wishes go out to you. Take care of the greater soul, you’ll need it to eradicate the evil. I trust it will be made known to you from the gates themselves. Oh and for your protection, do call yourself a Hexer,” he said now stumbling his way away from him. “The best of wishes for the greatest of souls.” And Guardian disappeared into the forest with a fist raised at his side in a quiet resolve leaving nothing but Mace and the withering corps of the first. One that had only came into full existence that day the Hexer abandoned the call.

The wind blew, this time a little strong and although it had been blowing for a while now this one officially slayed the fire putting it out for good. Mace shook his head coming back to reality. The sun still had a few hours left to peak over the horizon. His wolf fleece still kept him warm and as much as Mace would have rather started another fire he thought it was best to start making way now anyways and break in the day. The clouds were already beginning to move on and the snow and the accompanying winds were beginning to lessen.

So coming to a decision he picked himself up. The chains clinked as they hung from his armor. Mace adjusted his crossbow that hung over his tail as well as his quiver holding twelve normal shots and nine explosive arrows. With this he began to walk westwards with snow crunching beneath his hooves at every step.

For hours he didn’t stop with each breath and every sight being made visible to him. The day was clear cold as it was. He stood atop a hill for now as it was the highest point of elevation he could find during the late afternoon. It was best he look for shelter unless he rather be sleeping with the wolves again, and looking out to the west he could see nothing except desolate snow covered woods and pastures.

However to the south he could have sworn he saw the peaks of mountain tops. If that was so then he should have at least been seeing some sort of ruined village even if was in the very least a ruined farming village. But as he thought he remembered that there was always the legend and story that Aminus destroyed the land with alchemy. So it could very well possibly have been buried underneath mounds of earth. However stories often times had a twist and legend, tho very young, still tended to be a bit exaggerated.

He sighed frustrated. He was cold, a bit hungry, admittedly lonely and most of all he still didn’t know how to enact his magic. He got a fire started that was about it. Really only came to him with anger and frustration, so calling on the same feelings of the moment a spark formed at his side with next to no effort.

Then Mace allowed himself to relax breath easily. He still had a few hours of daylight left so he thought for a moment more. What was a falconer always taught to do? Always think long term. Seems fundamental by nature but think. What would happen if he just ran at Freath with no former knowledge on his magic? He would be obliterated thats for sure.

So sitting on the mountain overlooking the valley he called on his best memories of magic and how to perform it. The most recent one was when Igneous kept alight a dark flame to practice his dark magic. Didn’t seem to do much given the remainder of their adventure but Mace couldn’t help but draw truth from it. Surely the best way to learn anything was with repetition because practice never made perfect it only made permanent.

So what did he have now? He had another fire going fueled by the emotion of anger. Maybe that's how alchemy was drawn on, through emotions. Those who wielded water often tended to be softer spirits. Like Adridge. So thinking very carefully he managed to spread the flame amidst the air fuling it with soft hate, or artificial anger brought on by mild annoyances and empathy. It began to surround him forming a ring, thin as it was but nevertheless a ring.

There he let it burn, breathing easily as the cold winds blew bustling the trees of the landscape below. So he thought: What else did he know? He knew that magic was only as strong as the energy within the host. It drew little true energy but so long as you could stand then so could the magic enact itself. For now he was perfectly healthy. He could possibly do this all night with little distraction.

What else did he know? Magic came with study. However most associate study with reading text while others say study also coincides with meditation. That was good as it was what he was essentially doing right now.

What more did he know about magic? Light magic was drawn from the world not from within. So how would he draw on light magic. Focus on the living? Think of the trees and the grass? The birds in the skies and the live stock below? Or do you just sense the power around you?

Light magic might have to take a bit longer to fully understand, but even as he did this, what he would do all day that day was ask himself questions. He would then look for an answer and see if he could improve on that. He kept his ring of fire alight as a constant reminder of his effort. Focus on the magic, think of the magic, be that as of magic.

Night fell that day for the little earth pony who sat on that mountain and were as some ponies would find it wise to go to sleep Mace felt like he was really on to something so he didn’t give way to sleep fearing he would fall from his moment of magical clarity. So he sat on that mountain all night with the ring of fire illuminating the valley to his presents making known of the magical venture he was having.

“The magic is within,” he told himself. “I just need to draw it out.” He empathized with the fire and it grew brighter, warmer. “It's unbelievable power. That of a Hexer.” He tried to feel for the world around him to draw on his light magic but for now, only for now it remained dormant. “Soon,” he told himself. “A falconer always waits for the opportunity. So soon, very soon.” The same thought came for dark magic. He hadn’t had a bound weapon safely stored so he couldn’t try if he wanted but again he told himself soon, very soon.

He had no binding stone but perhaps he could find one. If he ever did learn one thing from Igneous it was that they were always taught to summon shields first before weapons. Many ponies called dark magic the magic of protection after all. A claim reinforced by the Hexer himself too.

The night seemed as if it needed to get away because the next thing Mace noticed was the sun peaking over the horizon. The ring of fire was still burning but when he looked down he found the snow that previously coated the mountain top had completely melted giving way to grass.

He felt considerably hungry and sure grass would do finally, but he was more for meat instead. Surely there should have been a rabbit or two scurrying about and after all he was an expert tracker and a brilliant shot.

Then he remembered. His crossbow was no longer mounted on his back with a dynamic reticle but instead was slung on his back. What had Igneous said a few times, that picking up weapons with your magical grip depends deeply on personal familiarity.

He stretched himself for a moment within the hide of his wolf fleece and sighed. Being able to free wield a crossbow was just going to have to be worked on like the rest of his magics. So he set for the bottom of the hill trudging through ice and snow outside the small ring of grass. He kept in mind one thought and that was the words his father had told him.

‘Obstacles coinciding with or blocking necessity are always overcome with the smallest amount of determination,’ so taking that into heart it would not be hard at all if Mace simply every so often tried to, ‘feel,’ for his crossbow, and with this he set his sights for small little paw-placed tracks. After all he’d already proven he could get a fire going and now was in the mood for extra well done mitten and bone.

Somewhere however a rabbit did poke its head up. Its white fur blending into the whitened snow so well that, to an untrained eye, looked to be of snow as well. However Mace was that trained eye with his father having taught him well. So crouching behind a tree with a single eye poking out from aside, he reached for his crossbow doing his best to summon up his magical grasp.

It shifted and slowly lifted before falling to the snow useless. Still he took it in his hoof and lowered it onto the root of the tree to steady it. The rabbit was still there wandering around continuously checking to make sure there were no predators around. A false statement if any.

Lining up the fletching of the preloaded wooden bolt with arrow head he set the sights for the eye of the rabbit as he loosely and unevenly held it in his grasp. The trigger was an internal device meant to be acted on by suit of his armor. That armor being many, many weeks left behind but still he knew the inner workings of the device. All he needed to do was have his magical grasp trigger it letting loose.

So he focused feeling for the familiarity and suddenly the crossbow let loose striking the rabbit in the head missing the eye only by a margin. It was fine for Mace, he wasn’t hunting for sport but it was just an instinctive objective that always caught him.

He took the rabbit corps doing his best to dislodge the arrow, unevenly guiding it back to his quiver with his magical grasp which took tens of minutes just to do. He then mounted the rabbit over his back and continued on his way with intent to dine that night. Perhaps with even more game later that day.

This proved to be true as night fell with scoring three more rabbits over the course of the day. All of which he hung on his back. During that day he was able to exercise his magical grasp by first being able to manipulate an arrow, light as it was, however he still needed a hoof to properly hammer it into the flight grove. Firing the crossbow became much easier as well as his aim.

So as he gathered his wood and made a fire he began roasting the skinned meats of the rabbits. The chained blade, he also became accustomed to, into the fire to clean he watched as the first rabbit slowly began to cook to perfection as night fell.

However as he ate the first leaving the two others to cook as the fourth lay on his back, from the darkness something seemed to approach him. Looking on as he took another he saw that faint outline of the antlers of a deer. He wouldn’t kill it as there was no need to at this time, but as it came into the light to his surprise it wasn’t a deer but a pony in deerskin.

This new stranger looked to Mace still eating and said, “May I join you. As you see I have my own,” she said lifting the meats of the deer, probably the same deer she now wore.

Mace passively nodded having been accustomed to meeting insightful Dragons, Hexers strange talking creatures, and now ponies alike in foreign, barren lands.

The stranger mare nodded back taking a seat in the snow across the fire from Mace. She then took her meat and too began to cook. As the savory smell filled the air none of them spoke both simply partaking in one another's company. It was all Mace needed as no words were required. And there they sat, each cooking and eating his own and her own hunted meat in the lands of Freath. The Accursed lands of Freath apparently.

Chapter 3 Battle Wounded Fire Kin

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Mace jolted upright having been startled in his sleep. Franticly looking around he quickly realized that he was still within the lands of Carridian huddled by the fire that still managed to burn throughout the night and into the morning. He relaxed himself knowing that it was only a dream but he found that his guest was no longer with him. It was a shame because he felt as they were on good terms. However he wouldn’t be the one to tell her to do otherwise, so he simply readied himself for the journey with his wolf fleece worn around his armor and slung the fourth rabbit he planned on saving for tonight over his back.

Suddenly a carcass dropped from above slaying the already weak fire completely.

Pausing for a moment Mace looked to see the flame slaying carcass was that of a dear with its innards already having been torn out with a massive gash in its stomach. Its head also seemed destroyed with three slits carved into its skull.

Looking up Mace found it was the celestial he had just dismissed as having moved on. Her hooves were bloodied as well as the retractable clawed gauntlets she wore over them. She still wore her deerskin with cuts made in the sides for her wings and with it she landed back over the now smothered fire and trophy she scored.

With one claw protruding from her gauntlet she began to skin the deer as Mace looked on averting his gaze to the west of Carridian and of Freath. She worked the carcass over skinning it completely while laying it fur down on the snow to dry. She took the brains of the deer and rubbed it into the inner parts of the skin as well. Mace knew this was a method for drawing out the toughness in hides. They did it with bulls and cows all the time back on the farms in Noriphmy.

She then began to cut through the body, extracting meat, throwing most off to the ground but keeping the greater portions for herself and when she was done she held a hoof out to Mace with a single long strip of prized deer meat hanging from her claw.

It was an offering.

Mace nodded as he took it in his magical grip and strung it across his back along with the rabbit.

She nodded back as she rolled up the skin mounting it on her back looking eastwards. To Mace it appeared that they were already at ends with each other, both moving on going their separate ways in an empty, accursed land. But before she took off Mace said, “Follow the northern mountains eastward Celestial. You’ll find Noriphmy in the easternmost peak of Carridian.”

She looked down to her shadow with wings outstretched ready to leap into the air. Her poise then loosened and she turned to Mace and said, “may I know your name?”

He answered saying, “It’s Mace. Mace Volcod. Yours?” He asked.

“Acoyeyenackontoesh,” she simply stated. “A confusing name I know.” Instead of trying to wrap his head around the pronunciation of the name he thought it best to just leave it and nod in agreement. She then said, “Thank you Hexer Mace.” He nodded but she continued, “Travel westward and you may come across a Wyvern. A Wyvern much less however: Travel southeast and will find a race of giants liken to us; two thirds borne by earth, they’re winged and catalysed. Travel southwest and you will find another kin; Taloned, winged and borne by air. You may know not but they are not beast of Carridian but beast of another land far beyond the insurmountable mountains of the north, south, east and west of Carridian itself. Terry from conflict as those Giants and those Air Bornes conflict with one another pouring their war into the lands of Carridian. Taken unto this knowledge but take unto indifference. They both fight to appeal to justice after all. See to it that ponies are not involved for war is the last thing the final nation of Carridian needs. I'll again be a refuge before then,” And with that she left him unfurling her wings, taking to the skies above never to see him again and her for him.

***

A lone figure wondered Carridian for these weeks. From day to day he exercised his skill and put to use his hunting abilities until the day fell to night and he too fell to sleep. It was something he dreaded not only because his guard was down but also because of the recurring dream he found himself to be having more and more as the days went on.

It always started the same, as it was forged from pure memory, and always ended the same way too as only the past can remain unaltered: Three falconers battle worn and determined. One blistered with rage, the next out of his element and the third found himself there with a promise he now was unable to keep.

It always went as followed; a bridge closing the distance between a the perimeter of sheer cliffs disappearing into nothing, guided them over a cavern that fell to blackness and around an archipelago of rock faces strung and held together with chains that seemingly floated on a vast emptiness of a spacious void. In the center was the greater island of all the rest. This one held aloft a well maintained castle although blackened by the shadow below that seeped into the space above.

The gates open and the confrontation begins with a dancing light and blistering fires. As the fires occupy one another the light dissipates into the darkness. The first fire partook in its own covenant turning to light while the fire of Istudious fell to the light of the darkness and although it was perceived night after night Mace found himself waking up in a terrified state purely at the sight of their transformation as... unnatural as it was.

But like every night before all Mace could do was shake off the thoughts and the lingering fear and continue westwards towards Freath.

Day in he exercised his magic until the day fell out again. Anger was an easy resource and fire too in kind. His grip intensified upon the chains and his control grew greater with nothing more than the smallest amount of determination as every moment, and every step nearer he could feel the lingering destruction at the gates of Freath. The nation unnamed and unspoken by embers.

He would do this world the deed, his friends saved by it too.

But as his main quest lay ahead of his travels a secondary madder still prodded at his mind as he blazed through the snow gotten lands of Freath: The words of Acoyeyenackontoesh fell into his mind, and oddly enough, not the aforementioned Wyvern he should have been wary about.

No, his minds were occupied by Giants and Air Bornes wagging war against one another in a land foreign to both kins. Tallioned and winged, winged and Catalysed where had they come? Why had they come? What was their purpose if not to spread their own insufferable war?

A crack rang out shattering the docile silence of the land. Mace withdrew the chain watching as the tree that laid in his way keeled over crashing off to the side leaving nothing more but a stump in claim.

The wolf covered pony walked up to the fallen tree and taking his blade in hand began to sear of logs, branches and sticks intending to use them as firewood.

Mace was satisfied with his single stroke performance. A simple arc of the blade with stricken chains and a flick magical grip was all it took to bring the foliage down but he imagined it was nothing compared to using the Hexer equipment in actual combat when throwing many different variables into the mix. This tool was difficult to use and getting a proper feel for them was equally as odd.

For one it wasn’t anything like a crossbow and for two all unicorns he knew only used swords of some kind. So obviously a weapon this advanced desired a great amount of skill from the wielder. The chains were linked to tracks that snaked across his armor and from what Mace could gather they did so in the most streamline paths possible for an equine body.

The left and right chains criss-crossed and intersected making it possible for the right to be on the left and vice versa. He knew that to get the optimum amount of use out of these meant keeping them in motion around his body without the chains tangling or the tracks ramming into each other while performing complex maneuvers and attacks.

As the bonfire burned brightly behind him he began practicing on the emptiness of the plain before him and after all these days of minor practice and shadow bouts he had already identified his most favorable pattern. The right would run along the track that would loop around his neck area over and over while the next would rotate around his shoulder that also had a looping track. That was fine, completely fine. But then he remembered that while he fights the chains would be fully extended and thus would tangle if he got the speed wrong.

Still, that didn’t stop him from trying. While fully extending his chains he slowly got them into motion spinning around his body almost lazily. However after speeding up slightly it wasn’t long before the resolve concerned really came to pass. With his chains lying in a tangled mess he thought up a better pattern. This time instead of intersecting paths he would instead run them along the exact same path counter-clockwise around his body performing somewhat of a tornado move. -something he only head about in ridiculously, absurde legendary stories of impossible heroes that never existed in hyper fantasy worlds of strange beasts and civilisations.

Taking a breath with his, recently, untangled blades ready for use. With his magical grip he plunged the right sided near the ground only to the point where it would scrape the grass and nothing more. Immediately he also took the left and threw the next overhead in the same direction.

The anchors hummed as they sailed seamlessly over the tracks he guided them over. First across his back down his side up his shoulder around his chest and back around again in a slower more manageable pace but with enough momentum to keep them in flight. The blades were perfectly angled and flat to his eye insuring that if there was a target it wouldn’t be a useful one for long.

He liked the results and after a few more moments of feeling accomplished he slowly bumped the speed up just a little. Guiding them over the same tracks the blades continued around him and lethal speeds. This feeling he was having felt amazing and with a sense of excitement he sped it up once more daring to push himself further.

Now the blades faintly whistled in the breeze like they did when he aggressively whipped them like he cut the tree. A little faster, a louder whistle and a stronger tension on the chains. Faster again and all one would see was a torrent of spinning chains, even the bonfire gravitated towards the spectacle.

However when he ramped it up one final time, one anchor he was leading from his chest to his side took a detour across his back instead. Mace was thrown upwards by the momentum of the swing and as a result the second anchor cut across the tracks on his chest. Pannick quickly took hold but soon after Mace found himself utterly surprised.

Through instinct alone he kept the blades spinning and around and around they went. Not in just a plain circle, oh no, this time they truly showed the capabilities they held. Around his body they flew taking different tracks, different routes, snaking all around his body like a river on a mountainside.

Mace only partly guided them around as his body was slightly jolted to the left and right. The speed and momentum of the blades kept him on his hind legs seeming to gently pull him into the air. He was exhilarated but even he knew not to push his luck too far, but even though he would have rathered, he continue this much longer he instead slowed the pace, lowered his forehooves to the ground and, because he had no other exit solution, he jolted the blades downwards burying them into the ground with a solid thwack.

Brushing his mane out of his face he let out a deep satisfied sigh muttering, “that was… exciting.” Surely he would try again but next time he intended to throw himself into the pattern intentionally with a bit more control over direction.

***

It was silent. Almost too silent. The birds and their songs seemed to had left and again Mace knew this feeling and that it signified the presence of a beast. Mace’s ears perked up on alert and he checked all around in case he might've been followed.

It had been a full day and a morning since he practiced that maneuver with the chained weapons and since then he got only hours of practice with nothing else of relevance to be mentioned.

However now it seemed there might be an event, well if his instincts had anything to say about it but only sight could confirm or deny his suspicion. But it wasn’t sight that ruled off the silence of the birds, instead it was the sound of a toppling tree accompanied by heavy steps and reckless pursuit. From the echo it produced and through the stillness of the day Mace could calculate the beast was a mile off.

It certainly wasn’t subtle and it shouldn’t had been a beast Mace should have gone after if for the reason it made its presence so easily noticed was that it was- for lack of a better term -beastly cocky.

Still he did but only with curiosity for if it wasn’t confident in its own ability then perhaps it was simply injured. If the ladder then he most likely wouldn’t bother as there is only so much one earth pony could carry. However curiosity can only be quenched by investigation without the need for initiation.

So he did, slyly ducking under low branches and moving swiftly with the soft crunch of snow below his hooves with each step bringing him closer and closer to the source of the unnatural disturbance.

His vision was keen and quite a distance away between the entwining branches and leaves that blocked his path he made out the color red against a whitened landscape. A roar came from the redend figure and Mace immediately knew it was a dragon. No, a wavern with four limbs for Acoyeyenackontoesh haddn’t warned him of a six limbed, airborne, fire-kin beast, but- ‘what is this Wyvern doing on the ground?’ he asked himself as he laid atop a ridge that stuck high in the forested valley.

If a dragon or Wyvern were to land anywhere it would be atop a mountain or some place higher up. They almost never landed on common grounds with other monsters and ponies; instead, ‘breathing fire from above,’ as the legends would say. This one wasn’t. In fact it was hardly moving, more like stumbling, falling and resting far off in the distance in a patch of grassland.

Mace wanted to know more but his better judgment told him that he should simply move on but the vanity in him thought dragon scales were well worth the risk. The Wavern was hurt, that much he could tell from this distance, but as to what had done it, he didn’t know. So he turned his alertness to the skies as he slowly approached, weaving around trees and bushes, his hoof steps light as to not give his position away to the wavern no matter how far off he was.

A mile away the wavern would never hear him coming, same for half. A tenth would be no different and even now as he stood in the open, the wavern laying on its stomach with wings splayed weakly at its side and with heavy ragged breathing did the wavern not hear him as the hexer slowly approached with one chained weapon held out with his crossbow rested atop it for better precision.

One explosive bolt rested in the flight groove. It may not make the difference but Mace felt more comfortable with his own Falconer equipment then he did with the Hexer’s equipment.

Another step, silent as the rest that tempted the same fate as when he began on that ridge. He was exposed, without cover and in full view of the Wyvern that laid there but it did not see him as its eyes were closed but it still very much alive.

He took in the sight and the glory of such a beast: Its color was red, crimson on the top that grew lighter as it neared its belly until it was a soft pink. Its teeth were impressive, white and sharpened and the claws on the elbow of its wing dug into the snow boasting an impressive and lethal sharpness to them.

However it wasn’t the scales or the teeth or the claws that caught his attention. No, it was the torn folds of its wings, missing fangs, the gashes in its tails, ripped scales and most of all the hallabered buried deep within the very shoulder of the beast.

Something had come to slay but it wasn’t a pony, that much he could tell for the halberd held no binding stones within the hilt like one would normally brazen upon it. Not only that but the size dumbfounded Mace as it was bigger than normal. Twice as big as a normal pony sized, pony fitted halberd to be precise.

Something else had to have done this, something larger stronger and more powerful. What had it been?

Mace then realized then that he had been holding his breath as he pondered over the thought and without much thought let out a breath. Just a breath but a careless breath that immediately woke the Wyvern from its rest.

Mace stepped back as its body jolted upwards into alertness. Its movements were a bit rigid as curled around swinging its tail, baring its teeth and setting its eyes on Mace himself who stood there tightening his magical grip on the internal trigger of the crossbow laid across the Hexer’s blade.

The Wyvern hissed and growled as it stumbled backwards towards the northern mountains. Occasionally it would glance west but the Wyvern constantly kept its eyes on Mace; the threat it perceived.

Mace was too cautious to move as any sudden movement could set the beast off on him but just as suddenly as the event had been initialized he realized that the Wyvern feared him. It didn’t want to fight it just wanted to live severely wounded and injured all over.

Mace steadily took a step forward and the Wyvern threw its head back hissing ever more loudly while flashing its numerous teeth with its snout crinkled in a growl and Mace’s suspicions were confirmed.

One question still remained and that was the owner of the Hallabered.

That question was answered when the Wyvern again glanced westward for only a moment and when it did its attention was completely torn away as it weakly lept away then crawled back the rest of the way. It then took a more ferocious defensive attitude toward the west completely forgetting about Mace altogether in favor of the two new entities that approached by air armored and weaponized.

Mace shifted his defensive stance away from the Wyvern and to the west as well for if a WYvern had greater fears then a Hexer such as Mace should match it.

With a thunderous landing and an upwind of snow they briefly became concealed but as Mace fidgeted with his grip, his stance and his positioning from the Wyvern the snow slowly settled and Mace saw these two identical figures in detail. The only words he could use to describe them was beastly but the way the held themselves and stood tall indicated they were high functioning intelligent creatures.

They had the head of an eagle with talons for forelegs. Their body was covered in feathers from the crest on downwards until it reached the wings that sprouted out from their backs that now were folded at their sides. Their body was that of a lion with clawed powerful hind legs to reinforce his observation.

However if anything struck Mace more it would be their size, sheer size perhaps. They were twice as large as him and fully armored from the creast on down to their tallions that were reinforced with sharpened blades like the feathers of their wings too. One had a spear mounted on its back with a sword held against the ground while the second only held a sword.

Both wore a red Wyvern skin cape that hung around their neck and blew in the soft valley breeze. The red Wyvern skin cape had been forged from the torn folds of the Wyvern's wings.

If it wasn’t apparent enough to Mace then he wouldn’t had known these things were the Wyvern’s attackers and they’ve come again to finish the hunt, reclaim the hallabered and claim a trophy.

The head the Wyvern.

Chapter 3 The Pigmy Among Giants

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Mace took a deep uneasy, nervous breath. Two, he counted two strange armored creatures and one wounded Wavern with flayed wings, torn scales and nothing else. Not another entity in the sky or one behind, he knew.

He knew the south was secure but what were the odds that faced him from the north?

It was something he didn’t quiet want to answer. He was outnumbered by one, disregarding the Wavern that was already injured, cornered and a more so against the taloned, winged creatures then Mace himself. In that case it was an even fight but Mace, however long he practiced, definitely wasn’t at all confident in his ability to wield the chained weapons effectively. Because of this he kept a tight magical grip on the crossbow he balanced on the blade of one drawn chain blade.

He couldn't take cover behind the brush far off in the distance like he would as a falconer because he was already discovered and in plain sight. He was completely out of his element and if he was to engage combat the very possible outcome were he lost didn’t seem too unlikely or too favorable.

The creatures both took one advancing step. Mace defensively stepped back and the wavern roared and hissed them away as it crushed a tree beneath its skin torn wing. One creature had its eye and its weapon set for the Wavern, the next had its eye on Mace but the halberd withdrawn but only for a moment before it decided that pony was a threat however smaller it was.

“Back!” he yelled as he threw a taunting blade arcing it around before catching it again.

At this the creatures sprang into combat, one flying into the air, the next standing on two as it flayed out its wings and held its weapons in both talions as it approached Mace with intent to kill.

This was it, this was why he practiced and it was for dire moments like this.

Mace opened up with an arrow aimed for its face however the beast was swift and with a flap of its wings dashed out of the way leftwards, as it kneeled to the ground. Another wing beat and it rushed Mace completely as it brought down its massive halberd head on the pony.

Mace couldn't believe the speed of such a large armored creature. He dashed north, out of the way and countered with an ark of his blade. The creature ducked back and away before advancing again with a thrust followed up by a swing.

Only one could be dodged the second was halted when Mace raised both blades in an attempt to block it. The force however was just too great and with the weight of the halberd, the force applied and the angle at which it struck, Mace’s light blades just couldn’t hold up for defense.

It was the armor that saved his life as he sailed through the air only to come crashing down against the dirt. He wasn’t hurt or afflicted with any mortal wound but was more so shocked by the power and force behind its attack. Not only that but its tactical movement it placed on him before attacking. This was indeed a formidable creature.

Catching his breath he slowly began to pick himself up. The creature was advancing albeit leisurely obviously giving Mace the grace of calvary and not just finishing him off right then and there as he laid dazed on the ground.

As Mace stood on two he looked past the beast only to see the Wavern in a battle of its own, and like Mace, a losing one. The creature all ways kept in the air as it flew left, and right and round the grounded wavern. It would try in vain to catch the stallions beast, even breathing fire occasionally but with its torn wings and ineffectiveness on the ground it wasn’t log before the creature dove down plunging the halberd deep within the nape of the dragon.

Its head fell to the floor, its body writhed as it began to swiftly die. Mace watched as the creature withdrew and reapplied the blade to the scales of the Wavern over and over until it lay still with blood that scorched the dirt and steamed into the air.

Carefully removing the halberd it balanced it on the neck of the beast and as Mace looked on, the creature sat with its armor and weapons and began watching. It watched Mace as he put up his defenses, but most of all it watched its own kin as it insured combat with the smaller threat. It wasn't precisely that this thing thought that his peer was capable of killing the pony on its own but more so the shame that would come with having to overwhelm a smaller opponent, so it sat and it eagerly watched.

Mace took a deep breath, calmed his nerves, regained his poise and readied himself for battle. His opponent that so easily stood on two took a wide stance and with wings flayed open readied himself for combat.

Igneous had said it was all about the first move; the way you open up that will determine the fight. Mace saw no such opportunity or had the ability to read particular movements. With no other option and tension bearing down he collapsed his blade to a spear and threw it forward like a dagger. His aim was perfected and the technique was sound and precise but it was not combat applied or proper in anycase.

The creature easily saw the forecasting of the attack and dodged out of its linear path letting it sail by. As the chained stricken it reached out and snatched it in its armored, razored talons. Mace’s heart skipped a beat and in that moment where he felt the control of his weapon fail all he could muster was one word. One word that embodied this moment, this dire moment of life and death itself and there failure there upon him. It was a word that was used for centuries, a millennia even and ever since the first day of pony was this word wrote into the ale suffering and jolly goodness. Only one word embodied this moment and only one word was all he could express himself with.

“Taff.”

Instantly he was yanked forward, tumbling over himself twice before flying past the taller creature. He tried to regain his ground and pick himself up but before he could the creature weaved its halberd around the chains in a tangle making it unable to be pulled free. With it he swung the halberd around and as a result so did Mace as his body was mercilessly wracked across the landscape around and around bouncing off dirt, grass and snow of all kind. Only after a few long arduous moments did he finally come to a sudden hard stop against a protruding boulder only after having his speed slowed down by a kindly trunk of a tree that happened to bloom in his way.

At this point he lost faith in his weapons. He questioned, how could chained blades be practical ever in any pony’s wildest fantasies? How could one even control them, it was ridiculous! This was the thing, this death trap was supposed to be the very same tool, weapon, that brought down the black dragon Aminus.

‘I couldn't be,’ he thought as he was thrown again and again against the surrounding landscape, armor withstanding but the softer bits of his body not as much as he was flailed left and right before the chains slipped and slung loose from the halberd sending Mace into the air only to come crashing back down to the ground.

His mind spun, his body exploded with pain all over and in an instance all energy, strength and will he had to fight, to stand for his life, fled his body and mind leaving him nothing but his senses and even then they weren’t savory. He couldn’t move, couldn’t act but could only endure as he laid there broken all over and very nearly dead. His crossbow had broken away, his wooden bolts laid strewn about the area and his chained blade stretched uselessly away from him as he ceased to even bother to lift them. There he laid in the snow that began to lose its pure whiteness for dark crimson red as he timidly began dying out with consciousness slipping fastly away.

He looked before him as his head laid in the snow and saw the creature untangle the chain its talons until the halberd fell free. Then it again stood on two and began making its way towards the pony who cared not to move but was too weak and injured to do so anyways.

By now Mace would have considered himself dead for the eighth time in his entire life. The first five were during his relatively innocent days when things were much simpler and he was a falconer fighting simpleton bandits, thieves and monsters. The latter three during his more malicious days in Carridian, the final one of those three being this moment as he saw his fate bear down upon hims. This time there was no doubt, this time he’d truly met his match but with tiredness setting in he only hoped he could last long enough to see it through till the end.

However he again found death seemed to favor the alternative and Mace felt he should have caught on by now that the last thing this world favored was the covenantor dying out leaving Noriphmy to the will of the plagued covenant. The last thing Mace felt was the ground shake beneath him as he laid there. The creatures seemed to panic and look past Mace before scurrying away and taking off into the air in retreat from some unseen entity, at least to Mace that was.

The last thing he saw was a shadow over take him upon the snow before he lost all vision.

When he awoke again there was no light, just white with the darkness of the night sky cascaded over the landscape. However it wasn’t that he was concerned about, more rightly the fact that he was oddly elevated off the ground as it shifted beneath him. It was interesting to the deliriously injured stallion and so he never thought much of it as he found it rather satisfying, this mind bending, law defying stunt he was performing. It was pleasing to see and for some reason lulled him back to sleep as he disregarded the deep set voices that spoke harshly around him or the heavy set figure that carried him on its back.

However Mace wouldn’t be so blissfully unaware for long because as daylight reigned his sensibility fell back into place as well as his judgment and general mind set could he actually see where he was.

He found himself lying in the dirt and at first glance he thought it was completely normal. He was traveling and he stopped to rest late in the night and soon he would be up and ready to travel further and deeper into Freth. Maybe he would even practice his magic and continue training with the chained blade.

He thought it would be a rather average day and so he laid to rest again but only a brief moment later did he realize what really happened the night before. He’d found a wavern injured and grounded, been attack shortly afterwards where he’d been brutally injured and left to die. Only then did Mace realize the light and the shadows that lingered before him.

In an instance he surged upwards in panic unaware of the situation and dreary to his surroundings. He heard a rumble come from the light and the shadows around it but as Mace tried to back away he tripped over something metallic and snakelike. Whatever it was it wrapped around his legs and binded him from moving whereas he began to panic and scream out for his life unaware just how lucid he really was.

In his panicked state there was only one thing that brought him down to his senses but it wasn’t something native to Carridian. Listening Mace heard a few words being spoken slowly and easily. They made no sense to him but through just listening alone he could tell that they were words of intelligence and ease.

Mace’s eyes had been rolling about and his legs thrashing too but at these strange foreign words he somehow found himself to be calm and as his body rested and he fell to the floor docile and calm did he finally make sense of the world around him and the beings in which he was in the presence of.

Looking around he found he was in a densely treed area where no lights shone through giving Mace the false impression of being in an empty area void of sun or light. The thing he tripped on wasn’t some snake or vine made of metal but his own chains that got caught between his legs in the panic. The light off in the distance also wasn’t his demise but rather a campfire but what stood about the fire Mace found truly interesting.

Standing all around, four in total, all facing Mace with concern written all over their face stood figures for which Mace could only describe as nothing more than Giants.

One stood forward before the rest. Its hooves seemed massive compared to Mace’s and in fact each and every one of them seemed to be larger by a count of one when it came to measurements. However the first, who stood forward, he had a Catalyst. He had armor made of hardened leather and held together by studs and bits of metal that draped over his sides and around his neck. His mane was braided with rings running through each knot and beads strung together with leather. Along his side hung a sword massive but simple with a standard hilt wrapped and bound, and a blade long and flat, sturdy and trustworthy. One his other side hung a shield round and made of metal, bound and made to protect.

Everything about this particular giant seemed immensely common with the ponies Mace had always associated himself with. Combat ready and willing to kill with a fire engraven in the eye as he charged for battle. However Mace saw no fire only concern.

Behind him stood an earth giant armored nearly the exact same way but much more heavily and with a face that hid behind a mask made of metal but lined with wool. Behind that were Celestials armored with what could only be described as the purest looking metal and blades that lined the feathers much the same way they did with Kara and her Falconering outfit. They stood with wings splayed open but not in offense but surprise when laying eyes on the small looking, what they might call, giant.

But of these giants Mace only looked to the first for it spoke softly, for a giant, and easily. He understood nothing of what he said but by the tone alone and the easiness of his speech he knew he was in no danger.

Slowly the unicorn giant took one step forward to Mace and then another. Mace looked down at himself and untangled his hoof from the chains and sat up from where he lay watching earnestly as the giant rested a hoof on Mace’s forehead.

As he sat there Mace felt something being drawn out, something little and soft and when he looked he saw a little white sprite in the hoof of the giant. The giant razed it to the ground bursting it and many smaller particles burst outward and grouped up at its ears, shimmered then darkened to nothing.

For a moment this giant stood there hovering over this smaller being armor and all but before to much time passed this giant spoke one word, “L-life... “ He spoke with a deep voice and one forcefully contorted to understanding and pronouncing this foreign language. Again it spoke this time a new word, “Exsi-existence.” It may have taken a moment but Mace soon recognized the words but he knew not why he was saying these particular phrases. “D-eath. Bir-rth. Er... Hunger, food, home.”

The giant then looked down to the pony as if for an answer to the words he just spoke but Mace couldn’t make sense of it or know what it was asking. Tilting his head Mace asked, “What?”

The giant shifted, looked away in thought then said, “These wo-words. You understand?”

“Yes,” he dumbly answered some what awestruck. “I do.”

The giant seemed to breath a sigh of relief. “A sh-show of intelligence,” it said in a deep voice. “Concepts of l-life and death. Fear you might ru-run pigmy.”

“Pigmy?” Mace questioned.

“Small…” he answered. “What do you call your kind pigmy?”

“Pony,” he answered. “Not a smaller giant.” He looked passed this giant who sat so innocently in armor and to the trio behind who now sat in place near the warmth of the fire but close enough to see him and the convention taking place between two different kins. “What do you call yourselves?”

“Oh, n-not a larger pony.” It seemed that was somewhat of a joke as Mace did just practically clarify that he was not a smaller large in his own term. “My kind,” it began by resting a hoof on its own chest armor. “We are h-horses. We r-rescued you from Griffons on our territory. I am healer, I fixed your bones and me-nded those wounds given to y-you.”

“Griffons?” Mace asked again. Pointing a north he asked, “those... things that attacked the wavern, yes?”

“Yes, Griffons,” he answered.

Looking the giant over and examining its blade Mace said, “I haven’t met too many healers who wielded blades as large as that.”

“War type,” the giant answered. “For a kind in w-ar all horses, me too, prepped for c-combat constantly.”

“Who are you at war with?”

The giant shifted in place and looked back to the fire and his peers. “May we speak by the flame? My kind would probably like to k-know more about your kind.”

Mace nodded but asked, “are you going to share that magic you summoned from me?”

“I cannot but once a day,” he answered. “Information is drawn on by power and one must be powerful enough to summon it away. Once a day pony... Now let us go, I can speak for them.”

Mace agreed and it wasn’t long before the smaller kin took his place by the fire surrounded by larger kins accompanied with the unicorn that spoke for them. The first thing Mace learned was their names. The unicorn that healed Mace turned out to be Mynearrith, healer among the group and alchemist too. He didn’t favor his blade as much as he did his magic but he had explained it was required amongst his kind to always be at reliable arms and so he dawned the blade and shield.

Mace would also meet the others in time as he neared the fire and fell into view before all of them. The celestials sat by one another, one seemed more of a mare while the other seemed strongly built with wide contemptuous form with eyes set for the pigmy that seemed equally scornful. If anything the two looked identical. The earth bound whose face was concealed by armor was the one who spoke first in a language Mace couldn’t understand.

Sitting amongst these giants really made Mace feel small like how a house cat might differ from a pony. The fire was big and a welcome warmth since he lost his wolf fleece in the battle and although the same could be said for his crossbow that he also lost, Mace actually spied it among one of the celestials but as to why he had it Mace didn’t know.

Mynearrith lowered his head and spoke for his friend, the earth type. “He would like to know your name.”

“Oh, uh, Mace is the name,” he said looking to the earth type. Mynearrith answered and specified that he was a pony too for that was the only word Mace recognised when he mentioned it.

The next question asked was from the celestial that wore his crossbow and Mynearrith spoke saying, “he said he will having you know that he leads me and the rest.” The celestial added something else and Mace could tell there was a degree of disrespect in his voice towards the pony. “He said his name is Nalth.”

“Nalth,” Mace repeated giving the winged horse a nod despite his outgoing rudeness.

“Now he has questions,” Mynearrith said as Nalth began to speak rather bruntly in his language. “He would like to know what happened back there, why you fought against those griffons… but… more importantly… he is concerned with why you found yourself on this land and what an earth type like you is doing with chains and crossbow.”

“Well, that's a lot of questions,” Mace muttered unsure where to start. “Will there be a time when I can ask mine?”

“Perhaps,” Mynearrith shrugged.

Nodding Mace took a breath, began with the first question and worked his way on down the list as Mynearrith translated for the others. “I was… traveling when I spied a grounded wavern. I… was concerned for the beast so I approached only to find the wings had been flayed and its predators not far behind. They ensued combat and I had no choice to fight for myself however it wasn’t long before…”

Mace was interrupted by Nalth as he spoke one single word. “He wants to know how you fought,” Mynearrith said. The celestial adding a few more words as Mynearrith explained, “you being… an earth type that can’t wield or control magic…” Nalth hoofed the crossbow dropping it to the ground near the fire as he continued to speak. “Strapped with chains and a weapon only magic types can use.”

If Mace could be honest with himself and the giants he would say he didn’t know why he could use magic or wield chains only saying that he could and that he was a Hexer. Infact a Hexer was probably the best explanation he could give for anyone and himself for he didn’t even know why most things these past months had ever come to pass, just that they did.

Fiddling with the chain Mace slowly drew one of them up in his magical grip until the blade leveled out next to his face in its crescent form. “I'm a Hexer,” he said with confidence as he then let crescent blade dangle by the chain before spinning it in a tight circle before them.

“Without the glow of a catalyst?” Mynearrith spoke as Nalth began to doubtedly ramble on while the two other giants looked on with great wonder. “Or catalyst on fore… he says it's impossible, and bearing a catalyst myself... I’d like to agree. What are you?” he asked with interest as he eyed the chain curiously. “I’ve never seen a weapon like this used by or made by horses. Are Hexers a... subspecies of your kind?”

Offering up the best explanation he could Mace began to explained unsure as to if he was even right. “They-we kill majins, magic monsters. We then... steal away their power and put it to our own use.” That was about all he knew and beyond that Mace really was just inferring for them and himself. “A Majin’s magic was… otherworldly containing… different properties that allowed not-catalyst bearing ponies to wield it but... only if they killed it,” he pointed.

Nalth spoke a few words the nodded to Mynearrith. “How powerful are they?”

“Very,” Mace assured forgetting for a moment that included him at the word ‘they.’

Nalth then leaned forward as he began to mutter something in a doubtful tone of voice as he eyed the smaller kin. “So you lost a fight against the griffons being… as other worldly powerful as you are? His words,” he assured fearing Mace might take him as being rude.

“I’m a novice,” was the only answer Mace could come up with. “And… the last of my kind.”

When Mynearrith repeated these words Nalth response was short and concise. “He…” Mynearrith began. “Wants to know… power, the power one possesses as a Hexer.” Nalth then added what seemed to be two words. “He’s… challenging you Mace. ‘Show me,’ his words.”

“What gives him the right?” Mace asked as he eyed the celestial indignantly.

Mynearrith’s explanation was simple. “The heir to the throne and one with great ambition,” he warned.

Mace nearly scoffed as he eyed the larger kin. “I should know the ambition of a prince,” he muttered.

“Please,” Mynearrith came. “Don’t dissatisfy him. It was by me he let you be rescued.”

“What does he want from me then?” Mace asked as he observed the heir even more hatefully now than previously.

“A display of power,” he answered quickly. “Any kind he finds sufficient, for you do say Hexers were powerful, no? You also say you killed a majin; beast of great power, yes?”

It was a rhetorical question and one that had already been answered so Mace forgo answering it for his own. “Why would he want to challenge me?”

Mynearrith glanced to Nalth before answering simply, “he seeks allies.”

Nalth stood up suddenly just as Mace was about to ask another question. Apparently he was growing increasingly impatient with Mace’s stubbornness to comply and so he trampled over the fire, splayed out his wings in a display of dominance. He causing Mace to fall back into the darkness but in full view of the armored horse in case Mace tried something he found unfavorable.