Publisher's Synopsis
"Since I cannot trust you to speak on your own behalf, shall I call forward the Defender?"
The creature's green eyes flew open wide, as it violently tossed its misshapen head from side to side.
"But you have left me no choice, my old enemy," the older man said softly, "you have in fact never been able to speak without obscenities fouling your lips, have you?"
The man-creature did not reply. It simply stood, and glared at the older man standing before it.
"Bring forth the Defender, and the Protector," the older man called out, in a strong loud voice, as he gazed out into the desert.
Ira heard the sound of hooves approaching from the darkness, as the still desert night parted, and two splendid riders appeared atop their rearing and prancing mounts. They brought the two steeds under control, and both riders waited, just beyond the three men, until they were summoned forward.
"Who would defend this foul beast?" the older man asked of the two riders.
"I would, and I would that I may also speak freely for him, my Lord," one rider replied, as his mount pranced into the midst of the three. The ebony steed snorted fire and steam from its flaring nostrils, as the black armored rider spoke.
"So be it," the older man proclaimed softly into the stillness of the desert night.
"And I will grant the right to speak freely to you, but not this filth," he continued, as he pointed at the man-creature, that still stood glaring, in the cold moonlight that fell upon the strange assemblage.
"Who would stand for the chosen, and protect their eyes from this blaspheme?" the older man called out.
"I would," the other rider said, as his magnificent pale steed moved into the forming circle. His beauty filled face shone with an inner light. Long blond curls framed the rugged face, and shining jewels seemingly embedded in his armor shone in the cold light.
He withdrew a long golden sword from a sheath at his side, and plunged it into the sands between himself and the dark rider, who now stood with the foul smelling man-creature, to one side.
"I would draw the line that none shall pass," he exclaimed as the sword quivered in the sand.
"So be it, Michael," the older man said, in a soft voice, "so it shall be."
The older man turned to the man-creature,
"Of what do you wish to speak?" he asked.
"He would only, that you would abide by what had been agreed upon, in the before time," the dark rider replied. "He would simply that, and nothing more." The rider bowed toward the older man as he finished speaking.
"Michael?" the older man questioned, turning towards the blonde hared young man atop the magnificent pale steed.
"We are ready, my Lord," the powerfully muscled young man replied.
The older man took his chin into his hand, and stroked it as he narrowed his eyes and looked back at the dark rider with the man standing beside him.
"So it shall be," he said softly, "you may begin..."
"...But, remember thou this, I will abide it, but for a short time, and I will take my own unto me."
"Only those that choose," the dark rider said, in a softly mocking voice.
"Yes, but harbor no false illusions," the older man replied, "Many will choose."
He paused and then continued.
"Three score shall it be then," he said through a small smile. "No more... No less. None shall be allowed to enter in, nor pass the line within the sand, except those who would invite everlasting death." ...
