"We have you now. Put the staff down and come quietly." The gold-clad usurper, guardian to the throne, turned to the sound of the rough voice. A dozen haphazardly armored men stepped out from among the huge oaks and pines, glaring at their quarry with angry triumph. Arrows were strung to bows all around, archers having risen from their hiding places in the brush. The soldiers of the Resistance awaited further command from their captain.

Princess Lynne's self-proclaimed guardian took a few careful steps through the thigh-high stinging grass, bare legs an angry red where the sharp edges bit into the dark flesh. "I am your lord Argock. Leave now and your punishment will be slight. Continue and you shall die." Smooth as stone, Argock revealed nothing. The hounds flanking him stood stock still, their great black eyes trained on their master.

"Lord Argock? Pah," a man spit. "Alone in the woods, more like. We'll be taking you to Thorne, we will."

"Quiet, man." The soldier quelled at his captain's biting words. "Be reasonable, Lord Argock. Turn over your dogs and put down the staff."

A bloodcurdling shrilling whipped through the starlit trees. "You were warned," Argock said. He raised his staff toward the silvery moon.

Argock's eyes shone. A black light poured out from somewhere behind his eyes, throwing his face into shadow. Blackness dripped down from the eerie light and stained his skin an inky black. The darkness spread. His entire body was consumed by the shadow. His bare feet looked to be made of ebony; his muscles bulged with it.

Argock's jaws burst open, letting out an inhuman scream. Teeth and lips were a shock of blood red and shining white against his face. As the soldiers stared in horror, the white lengthened until wicked fangs filled Argock's mutating mouth. The monstrous creature cut his scream short, shutting his mouth with a snap. His bones had rearranged; a long, sleek muzzle had replaced his distasteful smirk; pointed ears towered above his head. Gone were the mysterious painted eyes; now, golden, marble-like orbs sat in dark sockets. Long, sharp nails tipped his black fingers. He was terrifying.

The beast-man rolled his shoulders and tipped his head to either side, cracking his neck. He stooped to retrieve his fallen staff and straightened his headdress with his free hand. He rose; taller and thinner than before, he stood a foot higher than any of the men and his bare torso rippled with muscles.

Shink. The captain had drawn his sword, and now he stared down the darkness, grim mouth set. Both scarred hands gripped his battle-worn sword and he leveled it in front of him, gleaming point eager to plunge into Argock's black chest. Behind him, his men began to follow suit, more than one reluctant to face this frightening opponent from beyond.

One great, pointed ear swiveled toward them, twitching with the clink of each sword. The hairs on the back of the lean neck stood up, and with a sudden guttural noise the bestial man flung himself into the host, jackals leaping beside him. He swung his ankh-tipped staff to the right, slitting the throat of one panicked soldier with its razor sharp edge as he buried his massive jowls in the stomach of the captain. On either side of him his beasts did the same, striking down foes in a mess of bloody entrails. Arrows glanced off his leathery skin; one barbed point buried itself in the smaller jackal. The beast yelped and hesitated a moment, then rejoined the fray, slashing fangs into yet another man.

Dying screams haunted the field. Blood ran from wounds in great swirls, staining the grass red. "My lord," croaked a pale-faced soldier. His wispy beard and unlined face gave away his youth and his naked sword slipped from his grasp. "I yield."

"Lord Anubis," murmured another. He fell to his knees, bowing his head deeply in awe and fear. All around him, soldiers were doing the same.

"Akh-temet nos," Argock commanded, and the dogs' bodies crumpled as their souls fled in pursuit of the dying men's.