[Rivus]

Rivus had prepared horses and men exactly as December instructed. He had desperately wanted to be a part of the mission, if only to restore December's faith in him, but December had decided otherwise. Five other men were to accompany him to Bephal. As it was, Hars, Rivus's second in command would be joining the group. The other men were the best that could be gathered on such short notice. Now, with the preparations made, the only thing left to do was wait.

It took about half an hour for the screaming to stop. December re-appeared from the one-celled dungeon a short time later.

"Pity," he said as entered the room, "It was just as he said. He knew nothing of any importance."

"Is he dead?" asked Rivus

"No. I will have need of him upon my return. Keep him alive until then."

"Aye, sir."

"Are the men ready?"

"Yes. Hars and two others wait outside the town to the south. The other two men will accompany you there."

An almost imperceptible frown crossed December's face.

"Hars?"

"Best fighter we got besides myself; specializes in multi-opponant combat. If there's trouble, you'll need 'im."

"We leave now, then."

December turned and walked into the corridor that lead to the surface, followed shortly thereafter by two armed men. As the party left and the temperature of the room began to return to normal, Rivus wondered about J'Hasp. The creature had not returned from it's mission to find Minis, and no mention had been made of it during the preparations. Did December intend to leave it behind? Rivus shuddered; he didn't like the idea of that thing hanging around here until its master returned. Maybe it wouldn't come back at all. Or if it did, maybe he could kill it and place the blame on Minis. Rivus dismissed the thought... he didn't even want to get close enough to J'Hasp to kill it. He would inform the guards to be on the look-out for the creature's return, and then lock himself in his quarters until December arrived to take it away. Rivus nodded to himself and then walked off into the darkness.

[December]

With a deep frown set firmly upon his face, December sat proudly upon the brown steed that carried him through the forest. It was quite clear that both horse and man were extremely unhappy. Although December had learned to ride long ago, he was used to walking, or, when distances prohibited that, riding in a nicely padded coach. Men of his station and power had more dignified means of getting from one town to the another... something other than sitting atop some smelly animal for hours on end. Unfortunately, the preferred method of travel for thieves and highwaymen was horseback. On such short notice, nothing else could be arranged, so December merely frowned and endured.

The horse moved slowly, whinnying and fidgeting almost constantly. December was no small man, and was extremely heavy even for his size. Then there was the fact that December's presence had nearly frozen the saddle to the horse's back. Only a few minutes after they left, the group had to stop. Someone had to be sent to fetch blankets for December to sit upon so that he would not damage the steed. The man returned a while later with a freshly stolen blanket, enchanted so that it generated its own warmth. The horse almost smiled as the blanket was placed upon its back. Once everything was situated, December and the horse began to adjust to each other and the group was off again.

After the they had traveled for about an hour, they encountered the main trade route that lead to Bephal. December urged his horse forward and brought himself even with Hars.

"These men," he said, "Do they fight well?"

Hars looked around at them, reminding himself who had been sent on this mission.

"Good. Not great." he replied.

"You are honest. For that I shall reward you."

Hars raised an eyebrow

"When I give you the signal, leave me and return to Montfort."

"eh?"

December did not explain. Instead, he dropped back and took his place in the center of the group. Hars had another hour to contemplate December's words. Then the attack came.

Just outside Bephal, armed men burst from the trees surrounding the path. There were twelve of them, and further movement behind the treeline betrayed the possibility of several more. Two men took up position at the front of the path, while three more swung around behind the group, cutting off the possibility of retreat. The remainder rushed in for the attack. They closed in, killing the horses first. One of the Night's Bloom was trapped beneath his mount and was set upon instantly by the attackers. Hars rushed in and defended him while another thief worked to free him. The remaining men stuck close by December, keeping the strangers away from him. December himself, sat atop his mount with a keenly disinterested expression. Ignoring the clanging swords and shouts of pain, he offered none of his powerful magic to aid his defenders. He merely watched as they fought, and were slowly beaten by the superior numbers.

Hars, by far the most skilled fighter, was fighting three men when he went down. He had struck a fatal blow to one of the men, when something moving in the woods distracted him. Something large. One of the others brought him down with a swift kick to the gut. They then rushed in to finish the thief.

December calmly reached into his tunic and withdrew two large blue gems. He hurled one of them into the midst of Hars's attackers. It shattered on impact with the ground, and the world seemed to stop. The forest held its breath for a moment as the gem disintegrated and it's power was released. The force was like an explosion in reverse. A fierce wind and the most intense cold rushed *into* the area where the gem had shattered. Hars's two remaining foes were frozen solid, instantly. Their icy bodies toppled to the ground and broke into several pieces. Hars himself barely managed to crawl to a safe distance in time. Then, almost as if on cue, a loud rustling could be heard from the forest. Something big was approaching. Obviously, the attackers had held their reinforcements in reserve in case December joined the fray. Now, help was on its way.

As Hars got to his feet, December caught his eye and nodded to him. At the same time, he threw the remaining gem directly into group of soldiers that had blocked the rear passage. Their screams were frozen in their throats.

"Withdraw!!" shouted Hars as the gale wind died down. He could see his breath. The temperature on the path was *well* below freezing. The thieves began to withdraw running past the frozen soldiers, and as they did, something else burst from the trees.

Hars looked back and saw the huge, hulking creature emerge from the forest. It was a golem. An ice golem. And it wore December's face. The last thing Hars saw before he made his escape was the monstrous creature grabbing December by the shoulders and lifting the large man off of his horse.

[Author]

Author moaned as he regained consciousness. . His head and chest still throbbed from his earlier encounter with the golem, but the pain was nothing compared to what December had inflicted upon him. True to his word, December had tortured him until he was satisfied that Author knew nothing. In the end, Author wished that he did have some information. He would have gladly offered it in exchange for an end to the pain. Even if the end was death. As is was, December left him alive, writhing in agony, flesh scarred from what could only be described as 'frost-burn.'

Author lay motionless for a time, trying to give his head time to clear. His body was mostly numb now, but he could feel the pain returning as the warmth seeped back into him. It was several minutes before he noticed that he was not alone in the cell.

"no..." he cried weakly, thinking that December had returned, "please...."

"Be still..." the words sent a jolt down Author's spine. It was not December's deep rumble; it was someone else's... hushed, yet compelling voice. Author didn't recognize it. He tried to sit up, but his spinning head would not allow it. All Author could see from his position on the floor was the stranger's black leather boots and the bottom edge of his bright blue cloak. Again, Author attempted to rise.

"I said be still." admonished the voice. Author felt a hand push him firmly back onto the floor. Then he heard a faint rustling as the stranger removed something from his cloak. There was a brief pause, and then he felt an oily liquid being poured onto one of his wounds. Pain shot through him immediately. He stiffened, and would have cried out if the stranger hadn't clamped one of his gloved hands across his mouth. The pain slowly diminished and was replaced by a curious bubbling sensation. That, too faded. As near as Author could tell, the wound was healed.

The blue-cloaked man treated the remainder of Author's wounds in a similar manner. Then he allowed Author to sit up, and gave him a small vial.

"Drink it." said the stranger. He was still out of site, standing behind Author.

"Who are you?"

"Drink."

Author uncorked and drank the vial potion. The throbbing in his head and ribs faded away. His strength returned.

"By the gods..."

"Not gods. Simple chemistry and healing enchantments. Your skin wounds were painful but superficial. I healed them. Your head and ribs... My potion took away the pain and will speed your recovery. It will not last long... we must hurry."

Author stood and turned to face his savior. The figure was completely enclosed in a hooded blue cloak. The small hood was drawn over the stranger's head, and a blue sash was wrapped around the lower half of the man's face, revealing only the area around the eyes. The man's skin appeared to be a deep brown, and his eyes seemed to change color every few seconds as Author watched.

"Who are you?"

"Later. We have to go." Author glanced over at the cell door, and saw that it was still locked.

"How did you get in here?"

"Get in? I've been here the whole time."