Young Writers Society

The Centaur was tall and broad-shouldered, a belted sword hanging over his back. He wore leather shoulder pads, and around his waist he wore a belt holding several small pouches. The Centaur stood near a large silver helmet that gleamed in the light of the room. He had short salt-and-pepper hair, and his ears stuck out. His dusty hooves clopped against the stone as he moved towards the newcomers.

"Sinestra," he said kindly.

"Reedstrom," Sinestra replied stiffly.

"Hungry?"

"It was almost teatime when your messenger found us."

"There is food in the other room," the Centaur said, "even for your little WereCat."

Christine barred her teeth at the Centaur as she followed Sinestra into the other room. There was a large crowd of people inside-- a score in all. Some Sinestra knew already, like Druidian Rephers, a Dwarf that had lived among Elves and also fought in the War.

"Arodier Gilmore, Madam Sinestra," one of the Elf-Human Hybrids said, standing as the others fell silent. "It is a great honor--"

"Enough with the niceties," Sinestra interrupted. "We can talk as we eat."

Some let up a kind laugh as the woman took a seat beside an older man and an Elf.

"Brom Trickling," the man said quietly through a mouthful of stew. "You may not remember me, but I was Lord Daethdr's squire at the Battle of Hamfest."

"You've grown," Sinestra replied. "Instead of being a skinny, knobby thing, you've got some meat on you. Time's treated you well these past sixty years, even if you haven't learned some manners."

"It's treated you better," he replied with a humored smile. "Now, would you prefer chamomile or lemon tea?"

"A little red wine for me, I think... and milk for the WereCat."

As they ate, the others introduced themselves or reminded Sinestra who they were. Glamus was a giant Elf, standing taller than many of the others, and he had shining golden hair. A ginger-coated Minotaur with green eyes introduced herself as Redstream, and with her was a Satyr named Evandar.

Two sets of warrior twins had come-- Arnold and Alomodia Ridge, red-haired Elves from the distant West, and the Goshawks, dark-haired humans that had famously slain a dragon during a siege in the south. Vrail Waltz, another Human-Elf Hybrid, had also come from the south with a small company-- Belegorn the Halfling, Deborah Wilkins the Fairy(“Dee-BORE-uh,” she insisted), Edmundus Shrekling the WereCat, and Frealaf, an Elven wizard. Anurin the Dwarf was from a country to the far north.

Mallory Shilki, another Fairy, was one of the last to be introduced. Alongside her were Dellanir Varden, a Dryad-Elf Hybrid that had fought alongside Sinestra early on in the war. He had a peg leg and wore an eye-patch over his right eye.

"So," Sinestra began, "amidst all of these introductions, I have heard not one detail as to why we're actually here."

"Well," a voice like silk replied, "that's for me to know and for you to find out."

Sinestra turned to the doorway. "Lord Daethdr," she said with a soft smile. "It's been too long, my friend."

The Light Elf dipped his head. "Too long indeed," he answered with a soft smile. He walked around the table and shook hands with everyone one by one, his braided silver hair firmly laying on his back. His tan skin glimmered in the light, and his blue eyes shined like bright diamonds.

After he had welcomed them all and hugged Sinestra, Daethdr sat at the far end of the table. Glenstorm stood across from him, a large tankard in his hand. "If we might all settle down," the Centaur said, " I do believe the Lord is ready for us."

The Elf nodded a gladly and began to speak. "Not one of us is young," he said. "Indeed, the youngest would be Brom, who was but a ten-year-old when he became my squire. But that also means we are all experienced. We have all defended our homes in Belecthoria. But now it is our duty to prepare for the future."

Daethdr paused to let that sink in. Already, a sense of foreboding danger had overtaken Sinestra, though the longing for an adventure was stronger.

"During the war, we lost many friends and allies," the Lord continued. "I myself lost many among my kin. The Necromancers and their evil creations took many from us, but there are still Necromancers hidden through the land."

"Yes," Glenstorm said. "It seems at least one more is created each day."

"Created?" Brom said, startled. "I thought Necromancers were born, not made?"

"'Tis not so," Sinestra said. "Whenever a creature... or a beast... delves too deeply into the Dark Arts while practicing the Healing Arts... something changes inside of them." She took a moment or two to figure out how to explain it without confusing him. "I had a dear friend once named Adrian. He was a powerful healer, one of the strongest. He believed that he could save lives without losing his mind, and... he was wrong. With time, he paled, grew darker, never being seen by daylight, He never ate nor slept that I knew of. One day..."

Sinestra trailed off organizing her thoughts.

"One day, he successfully raised a Nymph from the dead, He became rugged and worn, and he started calling himself Linus. Before he became too powerful... I killed him. The sun rose at just the right moment, blinding him. His body turned to dust, and what was left of Adrian was no more.

There was a strange silence in the room until Daethdr spoke again.

"Necromancers still roam through the lands," he said. "The sorceress Cassandra is already fighting them in the East. I would like for all of you to come with me to aid her in rooting them out once and for all."

"Cassandra?" Redstream mooed. "Not Cassandra, the witch that took out three giants with her mind?"

"She took down two," Christine hissed. "Sinestra defeated the other."

Sinestra smirked. "Let Cass have her fame and glory, Christine."

The WereCat rolled her eyes and looked at Daethdr again.

"Bring forth the parchment, Reedstrom," the Elf said as he pulled a black quill and an ink bottle from his pocket. "I would be honored if the twenty-two of you would join myself, Alexia, and Reedstrom on this little adventure of ours. There are no terms-- I would merely like a record as to who has agreed to come."

One by one, each person in the room signed their names to the document-- apart from the WereCats, who asked that their paws be used as signatures.

"We leave at dawn," Daethdr said.