Ok, so here is some of the beginning of my novel. I changed it, so if you are confused at all, know you know why. (Editing has a way of DRASTICALLY changing things. Enjoy!

Kantare scooped up a loose sword from the ground and went over to where Hronthir was holding his sword at Baldond’s neck. “Don’t kill him,” Kantare whispered. “His men are hiding, and if they find out that we have killed their leader, they will surely hunt us down. We must hide until they leave.”

Hronthir nodded, and began to lower his sword, and Baldond laughed mockingly. “The servants of Denaru are not brave enough to kill their opponent? Hah, I thought as much. You are weak!” He spat at their shoes, and Hronthir would have stabbed him through the heart if Kantare had not spoken.

“We are merciful, Baldond, and as circumstances would have it we will not kill you. However,” he continued as Baldond was about to scoff again, “that does not mean you will get away free.” Kantare raised the sword high, and stabbed Baldond through his right shoulder and drove the sword deep into the dirt floor. Baldond screamed in agony, and Kantare pulled Hronthir towards the door. “That should give us somewhat of a head start,” Kantare gasped as pain racked his arm again. “Amstar is waiting for us in the next room.”

Several steps later, Kantare would have fallen had not Hronthir caught him. “You have lost too much blood,” Hronthir said as he supported Kantare. “You look as white as a sheet; we must find some bandages for you soon.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kantare said through clenched teeth. “If we don’t find a hiding place soon though, nothing will keep Baldond from killing us here and now.” They walked through the open archway expecting to find Amstar. To Kantare’s dismay, he was nowhere in sight. Hronthir helped Kantare towards the wall, when a hand reached out and grabbed them, pulling them both into a little alcove in the wall. Hronthir had his sword out in a split second, but it immediately flew from his hand and imbedded into a wooden beam on the other side of the small room.

“If you wish to live it would be wise not to draw your weapons on a friend,” a voice hissed from the shadows. “Follow me, and I will take you to a safe place where you will not be found.”

“What have you done with my brother,” Kantare replied angrily, “And why should we trust you. Who are you?” Just then, Kantare heard Baldond and four others shouting obscenities at him for hiding. They were rapidly approaching the small hidden door where Kantare and Hronthir were standing, and they would have been seen if the unknown figure had not pushed them into the room and shut the door quickly. “I will be back in a moment,” he whispered. “Do not leave this room under any circumstance, or your lives will be forfeit to a power far greater than Baldond.”

Hronthir rushed to the door and looked out a small hole. “The man is cloaked,” Hronthir said quietly. “He is facing Baldond and his men.” Kantare heard the conversation just opposite the wall where they were standing.

“Whom do you seek?” the man asked in a loud, authoritative voice. Baldond instantly stopped in his tracks and stared the man down.

“We seek the coward Kantare Bandoine,” he replied obviously shaking with anger. He was holding his shoulder where Kantare had stabbed him, and blood was flowing freely from the wound.

“You will not find him here,” the man replied. “If you value your lives you shall leave this place without delay, or you will feel the true nature of pain.”

“You have no authority over me,” Baldond shouted. Suddenly, a hideous change came into Baldond’s voice. It sounded low and guttural; the epitome of evil, and it resonated loudly in the boy’s ears. Hronthir’s eyes widened and he took a step back from the hole. Kantare looked and shuddered at what he beheld. Baldond’s eyes were wide and had turned a deep red, and black saliva dripped from his mouth. The darkness of the Cundanan grew more dense, and seemed to press upon the very walls threatening to destroy them. “No one shall defeat me!” Baldond roared, and Kantare and Hronthir covered their ears in pain. “I am almighty and I shall rule this land!”

The man seemed weak in comparison to the horrific figure that now stood before them, for Baldond seemed to have grown in stature. “I have given you ample warning,” he shouted. “Now you shall feel the wrath of Denaru on those who oppose him. Zaragotha, you have no power here!” The man threw off his cloak and a bright light seemed to emanate from him beating back the darkness and ferocity of Baldond. Kantare could now see the man was no other than master Andropholus himself. He began to speak in a language that was one like Kantare had never heard before in his life. It was beautiful to listen to, and the words seemed commanding and powerful. Suddenly, a bright, silvery light leaped from Andropholus’ outstretched hand, and it blasted the demon possessed Baldond and his men several yards backwards. They howled in pain and ran away from Andropholus with as much haste as they could procure despite their wounds. Light shot from their bodies and scorched their skin with a burn that was worse than any type a flame could cause.

“The city is mine,” Zaragotha screamed through Baldond. “You cannot hide from me for long; I will have my revenge! Even now my forces enter your gates, and the people accept us with open arms. Trinity has fallen, and no one can stop me from claiming my throne. I will have my revenge!” Zaragotha’s last words echoed throughout the hall as Baldond stumbled out of the Cundanan. A subtle roar like as unto the ocean’s surf reached Kantare’s ears, and he knew it must be the forces of Zaragotha entering the city. Danger had never been so imminent.