A.N.: Alright, here it is to you all who read this. I tried my stab at fantasy so I want to see what everyone thinks. I'm actually going to send this story into the L. Ron Hubbard Contest so before I do that, I want to see what you all think (the ones that read it.) Alright, thanks for reading and please review and give me suggestions!

Chapter 1 Wolfgang's Faction
Viktor Takol reared FireDagger, his jet black, heavily muscled warhorse, up in front of the large white tent that had been hoisted up in the dark, high green grass field alongside the River Winddrin. The trees that surrounded and that were scattered among the small field made it look more like a grove than a plain, but they provided cover from the cold wind for the men walking around the large tent and smaller tents surrounding it. This was the mobile base of Wolfgang Kovinggail, the leader of the men that hurried about. This was Wolfgang's Faction.
Wolf Kovinggail started his Faction five years ago after he broke away from the Ligon army. He had an argument with the king and decided to abandon his home nation behind him. Within five years, Wolf had gathered two thousand warriors and built up a strong force. Wolf had been fighting against marauders, bandits, and the Ligon army. And in his five years, Wolf had been marching his force closer and closer to The Nightscape, a place of stories. A place that Wolf was convinced was real.
Viktor, one of the five generals of the Faction, had been one of Wolf's first followers. He had left Ligon's army alongside Wolf. They were very old friends. Wilhelm Granlin stopped his gray and black warhorse, SilverMoon, next to FireDagger and smiled at Viktor. Both Viktor and Wilhelm's division of soldiers reared their horses behind the two generals and awaited the order to disembark from line.
The remaining men in Wilhelm's division surrounded a handful of ragged supply wagons. "Get the supplies out of the rain and secured in the tents immediately." Wilhelm ordered and the men fell into camp along with the others. The other three generals, Wolfgang included, had already made it back to camp.
A sudden cold wind blew across the field, reminding Viktor of the storm that desecrated the sky overhead. It was late in the afternoon and the sky was black with rolling thunder and flashing lightening. A light rain, caught by the wind, fell at an angle over the camp and men.
Viktor and Wilhelm stopped at the large tent, threw their reins to a soldier and dismounted. The soldier took the horses away with a bow, hand to wolf head emblem embroidered on his coat breast. Both generals inclined their heads to acknowledge it, and then he was gone. Buttoning his high neck collared coat, in hope of lessening the feel of the rain, Viktor crossed his arms over his chest. It was useless. His dark clothes were already drenched and appeared blacker then they really were. The most annoying burden at the moment was the weight of the woolen clothes, already heavy even without the rain, but the claymore strapped to his back felt as if he were carrying an anvil instead of a weapon. Dark blue eyes, uncommon for Ligonians, as he had been told on numerous occasions, watched the Faction's men through the falling rain. All those men were good men; every single last one of them.
Wilhelm didn't look anymore comfortable then Viktor was. With woolen clothes, also soaked through, he wore the face of a worried man. But as a general himself, Viktor knew how it felt to see your men fall in battle under your command. Those dead faces haunted your dreams and became your nightmares. You were never rid of them.
"What happened to your men, Wilhelm?" Viktor asked, taking his black gloves off and slipping them into his belt behind a dagger's sheath. "Wolf will want a report." He eyed his oldest friend wryly.
Wilhelm never blinked from his study of the large tent but nodded as well. "I know he will. And I'll explain everything. The barbarians are as unpredictable as women. None ever know when or where they'll attack next. As a general, Wolf will understand. He knows battle as well as any of us. It's unpredictable; he knows that." Pulling his brown broad brimmed hat down over his forehead and dark brown eyes, with a thick trail of rain splashing to the ground, Wilhelm crossed his arms over his chest and waited in deep thought. Viktor could tell that his friend was rethinking the battle over again. The man didn't even notice that he was fingering his half moon bladed axe, looped onto his belt, with a nervous awareness. None could have known those barbarians were going to attack; Wolf knew that.
The tent flap opened and Wolfgang started out at a fast pace, never noticing the cold rain or wind. Every footfall splashed up muddy water onto his boots but he paid no heed. All his attention was on Wilhelm. The last two generals of the Faction, Alain Delagin and Nikolai Raldin had followed him. With the silver war hammer set in a loop on his belt, in plain view for all to see, Wolf had no problem solving questions of where the true power of the Faction rested. Like every man in the Faction, Wolf's coat held the Faction's emblem, a black one red-eyed wolf head with a sword through it.
Short black hair, graying at the temples, spiked and somehow undisturbed by the rain, explained the age of the Faction's leader. He was no foolish child who ran off as many in Ligon believed. With a face seemingly carved from granite, a rough start of a black beard, and the long snowy white scar, which ran down his red glass eye, Wolfgang was nowhere near the baby faced image that many people in Ligon and neighboring countries believed so strongly that he was. And as imitating as his red glass eye was, especially when he was angry, Wolfgang still seemed to have many lined up to drive a sword clean through his chest.
Bowing elegantly, much like the soldier had to them, Viktor and Wilhelm immediately straightened at Wolf's frowning face. Alain and Nikolai halted behind Wolf; both in finely cut coats that seemed more appropriate at a noble's ball then on the battlefield. Viktor barely knew the two men, yet each was an honored military advisor to Wolfgang. Viktor thought Alain more paranoid then anyone else. His gray eyes seemed to always be searching for enemies rather then watching his own troops, and with black hair that fell to his shoulders, the man looked more like a madman then anything else. His hand never seemed to leave his sword's hilt.
Nikolai leaned against his black handled, blue bladed spear; which he held in his right hand, and his almost black eyes were strong and centered on Viktor and Wilhelm. His short gray hair and rough skinned face showed his age over the others.
"Wilhelm!" Wolf called as he neared them. The mud splashed up from his boots as he heeled to a stop. His one-eyed stare was set and his stance was overshadowing. "Wilhelm, what happened out there today? Why is half of your division dead?" He never so much as glanced at Viktor.
"My division was coming back to camp through the only pass that would allow us around The Bleeding Mountains without having to go through them, sir," Wilhelm replied, meeting Wolf's stare. "The pass borders the barbarian lands. We couldn't afford to go through the mountains; it would have taken days, so we followed the trail with a watchful eye. The barbarians hadn't been seen in months but they fell on us like vengeful predators. They wanted the supplies. I ordered the men to defend them but we were heavily outnumbered and we needed to get as many supplies as possible back to the base. So, with this in mind, I ordered an organized retreat."
"Did you get the supplies back?" Wilhelm nodded. "Do you have any idea why they attacked after so much time." Wilhelm shook his head. Wolf sighed and whispered, "I'm sorry to hear that, Wilhelm." Nikolai grunted doubtfully and Viktor swung his gaze to the man. Nikolai's weathered gray eyes met his own and the older man frowned angrily. Despite the frown, Nikolai's rough skinned face and gray hair showed his age over the rest of the generals yet his muscled body spoke of an older man in shape and fit for battle. His gaze never faltered.
Wolf suddenly smiled and turned to face all four generals. "Come, my friends. We have time to celebrate before leaving. We have much needed supplies, thanks to Wilhelm here," he patted Wilhelm on the shoulder, "and I believe that is something we can drink to." They turned and started for the large tent.
Viktor entered the tent behind the others and wiped rain from his coat and hair. The inside of the large camp was where the meetings were held. A large square brown oak table was set in the middle, surrounded by chairs, and candles lined the top of it. Besides the large table, the inside of the tent was bare.
They all took their seats, save Wolf, who stood at the end of the table and smiled at them, as if he were an older brother, even to the older men. "No, no my friends," Wolf started, widening his smile. He raised his hands. "Please stand and move around. You have been long hours in the saddle and hard at battle. I think you all deserve to stretch your legs." The four men all stood and quickly whirled around when two servants entered carrying mugs and a pitcher of fresh ale. "Just place them on the table." After putting the mugs and pitcher down, the two servants left the generals behind in the tent alone, bowing deeply to them with hand to emblem. "My friends, please drink." He paused and smiled at all of them in turn. "Just think. Once we reach The Nightscape and I receive the power of Time, as the stories tell, I will unite this world. We will unite this world. Together the five of us can control the major nations of the world and every fool who dare followed them in the past be our slaves. The world shall be ours and no others. Drink to victory." He took a mug and raised it high. "Drink to The Nightscape!"
"The Nightscape," the four echoed at once and drank wholeheartedly. Viktor was a little skeptical at first but finally and reluctantly muttered the word around his ale. He didn't believe in The Nightscape and he knew that Wolf was obsessed with it. Viktor knew it was from many stories, none he believed, but beyond that he knew nothing about it. No one knew anything about The Nightscape. It was a thing of stories, of legends, and their leader was intent on finding it and going inside of it. It was supposedly in Shadow's Blade, the most ancient and tallest mountain in the world, but no story ever told of anyone else leaving the mountain alive. In fact, no story had ever mentioned anyone ever entering the mountain. But Viktor had never been interested in those stories, so he had never paid much attention to them. Wolfgang had never mentioned taking the world over before, not until now. Viktor didn't want to say anything, not in front of the others Wolf was insane. He could never do that; no one should ever let him do that.
Viktor placed his mug on the table and wiped his mouth dry. "Viktor." General Takol turned to face Wolf, who had walked over to him with Alain behind him. Viktor had his back to Wilhelm, who was still enjoying his ale. Nikolai was standing beside Wilhelm with his blue-bladed spear leaning against the table next to him.
Wolf walked up to Viktor and stared him down with his left eye. The red glass eye was eerie but Viktor was used to it. "Viktor, this Faction is in dangerous times. I know that; you know that. You've been here since the beginning Viktor." Viktor was beginning to get worried. "Viktor, there is no place for failure within the Faction. You know that as well as I. Those good men out there can't afford for us to fail them. They look at us like heroes and how does that make us look when we fail, Viktor? How does it look?" He paused and shook his head. "Not good, Viktor. We can't fail those men out there! We just can't. Failure cannot and will not be tolerated!" Wolf turned to look at Alain with his glass eye and nodded. The other general nodded back and started forward. Alain passed Viktor with his bare blade in hand and his eyes set in fiery determination. "I'm sorry." Wolf whispered when Alain was past Viktor. Viktor had never seen anyone bare their blade so quickly; he didn't know how Alain had done it.
Viktor's eyebrows went up in confusion and he suddenly heard flesh and cloth ripping. Then a grunt and a faint gasp of air followed. What's happening? Viktor asked himself as he stared Wolf in the eye. Then another grunt echoed the other and it sounded as if blood were in the way.
Viktor spun on his heels and saw Nikolai holding Wilhelm, who was doubled over spitting up blood and gasping for breath. Alain pulled the bloody blade of his sword free of Wilhelm's ribs and stepped away as Nikolai pushed Wilhelm to the ground. "Viktor, I'm sorry. It had to be done." His oldest friend lay on the ground in a bloody heap, doing his best to breathe through blood, desperately gasping for much needed air. "Failure will not be tolerated. None of us can fail. I gave him his chance, Viktor. But he is no hero to his men. We can't afford to look bad. Your friend looked bad, Viktor, and I will not let my men down!" Wilhelm reached for his axe and had it halfway out of its loop before Nikolai's spearhead buried itself deep in Wilhelm's back, and as he collapsed to the floor, he opened his mouth but only a soundless screamed answered.
"You bloody bastards!" Viktor yelled, reaching for the handle of his claymore as he stepped towards Nikolai and Alain. Alain was calmly and quietly cleaning his blood covered sword blade. Nikolai actually had a smile on his face as he slowly pulled a dirty rag from his pants pocket to clean his own blade.
"There's no room for failure, Viktor." Wolfgang's voice was distant and strong. Viktor only saw his dying friend on the ground and felt the sword handle in his hand. He wanted to kill all three of the others no matter how well he knew them. They had killed his best friend. "And Wilhelm lost half his men to secure-what? -three wagons sparsely covered with pitiful supplies!" He smiled and laughed as he saw Wilhelm's dying body. "Look at it this way Viktor. Now those supplies have one less person to feed."
Something heavy fell on Viktor's head and he went down in dizziness and darkness, his sword falling from his hand. He could feel the warm blood oozing down the back of his head and neck. He wanted to strike out angrily. Wolfgang's voice filled his head and Wilhelm's dying body filled his vision. Wolf was insane.
"You bastards!" Viktor muttered angrily and again the heavy thing fell on his head, this time much harder. Darkness flooded his vision and he became one with the ground.
The last thing Viktor heard before the darkness devoured him was Wolfgang's voice. "I see what choice you made Viktor. You chose the wrong path, my friend." Then darkness devoured the light and he lay unconscious on the ground with his best friend dying in front of him and his three other trusted friends smiling at the two bodies.
Wolfgang had actually dared to call Viktor his friend!
Viktor couldn't see. The darkness around him was infinite, passing over everything in the world and universe. He could only hear the soft fall of water around him. It was rain from the storm. The ground beneath him was soft and muddy; somewhat comforting. He realized in the darkness that he was outside the tent. Where he didn't know, but he was outside and the storm was still penetrating the clouds and his mind.
He couldn't see. But he suddenly heard the voice of a young boy. He recognized the voice. It was him as a young boy. "Father, what is The Nightscape?" A young and curious Viktor asked his father.
The older man, with graying hair and a hard face looked down at his son and smiled. "It's nothing Viktor. It's nothing that concerns us farmers and blacksmiths." Viktor's father heaved his cutting axe onto his shoulder and ruffled Viktor's hair. "The Nightscape is merely in stories, my son. Don't believe a word you hear of it."
"But I want to hear the stories again," Viktor nagged, following his father through the forest back to their village. Their village lay right outside Ligon. "I've nearly forgotten them."
"Good," his father replied laughing. "They are not worth remembering. Worry about the real world, not stories. One day you will have to work to support your family. Stories such as The Nightscape should not be even told."
The rain fell on Viktor's body as he tried to sit up with his eyesight still lost. Everything was black but he could feel the rain running down his face. Or was it blood? Wilhelm. The thought disappeared, quickly replaced by another. He's dead.
"No."
"Father, please tell me what The Nightscape is?" Viktor nagged further. They had entered the village. "I've forgotten."
"Fine," his father laughed, kneeling down until he was eye to eye with his son. "In the stories, The Nightscape is said to be a place where the dead live. It's a spirit place where everyone who dies goes. It's said to be deep within the Shadow's Blade and a large ticking clock is in front of it. It's the Clock of Time that ticks down the seconds and minutes that people live. It's an infinite black plain within the mountain and a hole in the top of the mountain looks up at the moon, which is said to be caught within The Nightscape's grasp." He raised his hand and closed it around air, imitating what had supposedly happened to the moon. He looked back at Viktor with wide eyes and both laughed. "But it's only a story meant to amaze people, Viktor. Don't pay any heed to it." He stood up and looked down at Viktor with his hard eyes. "Viktor, promise me that you will not pay any mind to The Nightscape. It is merely a story. Promise me you will never believe in it. Many foolish people have lost their lives looking for it within the mountain. Promise me that you will never take it as real. Promise me you will never look for The Nightscape."
"I promise father."
"I promise father," Viktor told the cold air in front of him as he opened his eyes with a struggle. "It's not real." The rain had soaked his clothes all the way through and he was freezing. He could see the River Winddrin before him, but the tents were gone. The Faction had left him behind.
Viktor stood up with aching bones and stretched. He scanned the area but saw nothing of the Faction. His heart knotted as he looked down and saw Wilhelm's body lying on the ground, dead. His friend's hat had fallen off and lay next to him.
Leaning down and taking Wilhelm's axe from the hoop in his belt, Viktor swore, "I will avenge you my friend. Wolf thinks he can get away with this but I will not let him get far. He will never find The Nightscape and that should be punishment enough, but I will kill him and Alain and Nikolai." He slipped Wilhelm's axe into his belt loop and then unconsciously ran his finger across the blade, cursing the other three general's names.
Viktor spent two hours burying Wilhelm and by then the storm had calmed down, but not stopped completely. He had found FireDagger tied to a nearby tree, which meant that the Faction hadn't left him for dead. He pulled himself into the saddle with Wilhelm's axe at his hip and his friend's broad brimmed hat on his head, pulled down low over his dark blue eyes. They burned with hatred.
Taking one final glance at Wilhelm's grave, Viktor turned FireDagger and started to gallop away. The warhorse was more then happy to leave this place of betrayal and death. Wolfgang's Faction had lost two generals that night and had a new enemy on its hands.