"I tell you, there is something out on the plains of the Tundra! Something evil! I can feel it!" said the tall thin Elf as he turned from skipping small round stones across a clear pond of water. This was not the first time the young Elf had turned on his friends making this claim.

"And I tell you Katyr, I feel nothing. And I do not think Orist can feel it either. Do you not think a Mage would be down here if there were truly something dangerous beyond the Vale?" Halamar said as he sat on the comfort of his bedroll he had laid out alongside Orist's over thick green grass and in the shade of a tall willow tree.

"I can only feel the rants of a confused Elf interrupting my nap," Orist said without opening his eyes as he lay next to his friend with his saddle for a pillow.

"Oh bother with the both of you!" Katyr said as he turned back towards the pond. He stopped throwing stones and looked towards the north with his intense blue eyes trying to see beyond the Vale walls. He wondered what the strange dark tidings he had been feeling all morning long meant as he tried in vain to sense what was beyond the protective barrier with the power of the White Magic.

The three young Elves had been on their way to leave the Vale through a secret northern postern-gate in the protective barrier for a hunting trip out on the Tundra. Guards stopped them as they were about to pass through because of a fierce late-autumn storm that unexpectedly rolled down from the frozen north and raged outside. The storm was much too bad to travel in so they decided to wait it out in this peaceful, quiet corner of the Vale. Feeling they would be waiting for a time they unsaddled their strong, beautiful golden-coated horses. The mounts shook out their long flowing manes and tails of white and ran to an apple orchard nearby, always staying within sight of the three Elves. This close to the perimeter they could see the black and gray storm clouds twisting and turning in a boiling mass as they slammed against the invisible dome of White Magic sitting on top of the craggy cliffs and jagged peaks of dark stone surrounding the Vale. It was an eerie thing to be standing in the peaceful calm of the morning sunlight and watch as the storm silently charged at them only to slide around the sides of the protective dome.

The three Elves had been friends for almost their entire lives. They were all born around the same time and grew up together in the same little farming Dell in the western part of the Vale. Ever since they were Elflings they were inseparable and did everything together from working the fields, hunting, playing at mock battles, and getting into their fair share of mischief. They were now fifty turns old and considered still very young by Elven standards, but of an age to start their training in the Elven Houses of Lore. Katyr would be going his separate way from the other two for a long while so the three friends decided to take one last hunting trip together outside of the Vale before their lessons began.

Halamar and Orist were both poured from the same mould as they each had broad shoulders, strong arms and thin waists, the bodies of warriors. Their skin was browned by the sun from a life outdoors and they each wore their long wavy brown hair tied in a loose pony tail trailing down their backs. Over the turns many had confused them as twins, even though they were only related by friendship. All of their young lives they both dreamed of being in the cavalry of the Western Vale They were constantly practice fighting with long lances, long sword and shield, and shooting their bows from the backs of their swift golden horses. They were both accepted into the elite Imarion Battle House which was located at the center of the Vale next to the King's stronghold. Once their training started they would be very busy learning the ways of the warrior, how to fight with the White Magic that was within them and spending time on the Battle Grounds learning to master the use of every weapon in the Elven arsenal.

Katyr was taking a different path. He had spent his life trying to keep up with his two warrior friends but it had been very challenging physically for him. He was of the same height as the other two but much thinner, his friends called him scrawny. His skin was very pale compared to theirs and his long, white-blonde hair fell loosely about his shoulders. Yet, he had a fearless nature and always joined in with the them when they played at swords and lances even though he could very rarely best them. The only weapon he was truly skilled at and could compete against his warrior friends was the long-bow. He was a deadly shot and could stand toe to toe with them at shooting targets and hunting.

Katyr held one advantage over his childhood friends, he was very strong in the White Magic, much stronger than they. If ever he won at their mock battles of swords and lances he was always jokingly accused of cheating because he used the magic residing powerful within him.

Katyr's dream was to someday become a Sea Mage and travel to unknown lands on a swift Elven longship. He had decided on that path ever since a time when he was much younger and had climbed the steps of the naturally formed volcanic stone Mast Pillar at the center of the Vale, the 'Shea il Groth' as the Elves called it. He spent the night on top of the tall stone pillar under the moon, stars and planets and watched non-stop from sundown to sunup as the heavens sailed by. From that night he had fallen in love with the skies and the idea of living under them outside of the protective dome of the Vale. On a longship as a Sea Mage he would not only help move the boat upon the water with the use of the White Magic but he would also guide it by observing the heavenly bodies of the nights sky. He had been accepted into the House of Mage Lore which sat in a quiet little dell at the far southern end of the Western Vale. Once his studies began it would be quite some time before he would be able to see his friends again.

"Something is out there," Katyr said more to himself than his friends. "Something dark, something with an evil taint, walking upon the plains far away." He closed his eyes in concentration, "The Mages do not feel it because they fight the storm from their stone towers above. The Tundra Wolves do not feel it because they are deep with-in their burrows waiting out the storm. Something is out there."

Katyr turned to his friends, "Nap time is over, we must saddle up the horses. The storm is fast moving and will be passing out to the sea. Soon it will be calm enough for us to ride out."

The other two grumbled a bit but they did not argue. They knew their friend's strength in the White and knew he could feel the conditions of the weather beyond the Vale.

As his friends arose and started packing their things Katyr said quietly, "Time to begin our hunt. Something is out there."

The Dark Lord climbed up a drift of frozen snow that had piled up against the south side of a large boulder. The huge stone had been dropped on the icy plain by a retreating glacier long ago in another age. From this vantage he could see the beginning of the foothills that started the Grimfang Mountains aways to the east. Even through the last remnants of the swirling snow and the mist from the storm that had passed earlier he could make out the jagged hills of snow covered rock in the distance. A sense of relief passed through him as the voice that had been raging inside his head since he had been on this accursed plain suddenly went silent. Only the soft voice remained urging him on to the mountains where he would hopefully find the place to begin his empire.

He did not once glance down from the boulder at the remnants of his slave army as they passed by in the deep snow below. Out of the over three thousand ensorcelled barbarian warriors and villagers he and his Black Druids had brought onto this icy plain less than a thousand remained. A trail of frozen corpses followed them from the Nordic northlands to where they were now after five days and nights of walking. Many of them had fallen because their feet had turned black from freezing and were unable to hold them up anymore as the skin and flesh had flaked away to the bone. Unable to walk they had tried to crawl their way along, so strong was the compelling of the Black Magick, only to finally freeze to death in the ice and snow as they were left behind.

After one day of marching on the plain they had come across and enslaved a small tribe of nomads on their way towards the mountains. They were a people calling themselves Lapps who lived off the reindeer they herded along as they moved across the snowy plain they called the Tundra. It was a group of thirty men, women and children traveling south to stay in warmer lands during the winter months. The Lapps received everything they needed to live on the cold plains from the large herd of reindeer around them. They even used the animals to pull their sleighs loaded with all their belongings and small children. With the power of the Black Magick the Dark Lord and his acolytes delved into the minds of all the adults in the small tribe for information of the lands and people around the plains. The five gleaned much from these industrious folk and once they were done ravaging their minds the Dark Lord gave new orders to his four acolytes.

It was from the Lapps they learned that they were passing through the far northern parts of a land called Svealand and would soon be entering the lands of Finni. The people of these lands lived mostly to the south where the weather was warmer and the land much less harsh. They were mostly farmers and herders of reindeer and aurochs. They were still barbarians and would raid upon the lands around them but they were not near as fierce nor as bloodthirsty as the Nordic barbarians to the west. They found from the minds of the Lapps the southern lands were ripe with people whom the Black Druids could enslave towards their will.

The Dark Lord immediately sent three of his acolytes, each leading a Dark Star, down into the lands to raid the villages and farms and enslave as many people as they could. They were to return with the slaves and sleighs piled as high as possible with weapons and tools for which to build his black empire. From the link with his acolytes through the Black Magick he could see in his mind's eye that all three of his Dark Stars had conducted several successful raids upon the lands of the Svealanders and found the people just as easy to compel as the Nordic barbarians. One pillar of his evil empire could now be built with continued raids into these southern lands.

The other acolyte and Dark Star he ordered to stay with him to keep the slaves they had in line and on the move. His acolytes finally stopped questioning his motives as they too started hearing the voices in their heads pushing them to some destination in the Grimfangs. The slaves were quickly depleting as they marched through the cold and the Dark Lord knew that hardly any would live out the winter. All of the slaves had some form of the freezing blackness attacking their bodies, mostly their ears, noses, hands and feet. He knew if they survived the march they would not survive the infections that would set in where there dead skin had fallen away. The Dark Lord felt no more compassion for any of the slaves he lost than he would if a hammer had fallen off of a sleigh and became lost in the snow. The news that they could acquire fresh slaves for the work crews, the cook pots and the sacrifices was a welcome relief to him as these would not last.

He stood atop the boulder and looked to the far east and then the far south with his mind's eye and the aid of the Black Magick. Something was out there and he could not quite grasp what it could be even with his strength in the dark arts. The more he tried to feel what it was the more his mind slipped off of it and away. He could only tell that large bubbles of the Good Magick were out there and they could be a threat to his endeavors.

He could also see in his mind's eye beings in the shape of wolves shining like bright beacons of light far out on the plains. He felt that they were dangerous to him and his followers as they were filled with the Good Magick and very strong in the Life Force he so desired. He hungered to have them on his altar table when his mind came across them.

He strode down from the boulder to a small pack of very large humped-back black wolves that awaited him in a half-circle around the snow drift. He had found the hungry mangy wolves two days ago on the plain savagely tearing apart one of his slaves as they marched along. To his surprise he was able to compel them to stop the attack and stay by his side. He could only assume it was because of the black hearts that beat within them that made it possible to put them under his power. To test the compelling he picked out several of his slaves while they walked through the snow and sent the wolves to tear them limb from limb. The fearsome black brutes obeyed his commands every time attacking whichever slave he had chosen.

They did not like being under his control. They would snarl, growl and bare their misshapen black fangs at him when he walked by, but they would not touch him as he had now become their pack leader and they feared him. There were six of them and the unhappy wolves got up and ran towards the marching slaves when he reached the base of the drift. They snapped the fangs in their huge jaws together making loud clicking noises as they snarled and drooled in the snow all the way. He was pleased to be leading this pack of dark evil and looked forward to acquiring more as they made their way across the Tundra. The black wolves were as fierce under his compelling as any of the warriors they had enslaved.

The Dark Lord walked behind his diminishing straggle of a horde with his wolves and Dark Star around him and his one acolyte at his side. He felt a twinge as he followed the slaves, a strong probe of the Good Magick, coming from somewhere to the south, from the depths of the raging storm that had passed over them the night before. He had not felt the taint of this foul goodness since they had escaped Albion. It was a shock to him and stopped him in his tracks. Something or someone knew they walked upon the plain and they were extremely powerful. He sent out a command to his roving acolytes and Dark Stars in the southern lands, "Enslave as many of thine barbarians as possible and with much haste. Bring thine thralls and whatever weapons hither unto me within the seventh day!"

As he walked along the path in deep snow that had been trampled down by the slaves that went before him he whispered to himself in a voice that sounded of grinding rocks and as cold as the ice at his feet, "Something tis out there. Something comes this way."