I would like to thank the music of man o war, the charming wit of the delightful men i've come across, trashy romance paperbacks everywhere, and the movies dangerous beauty, excalibur and brotherhood of the wolf for their inspiration...

Prologue

The six, roughly armoured battle chiefs stood above the small valley below. The calmness of the large lake seperated the top three quarters of the small island and shimmered in the sun, deceptively deceiving away from the brutal carnage below. These six have finally, after witnessing the death of numerous sons, daughters and fellow warriors; realized their culture would not survive these struggles for greed. They had grown weary of the reality of constant war, and wanted to give family life a chance. This small band of the most glorified chieftans of their tribes had gathered to discusss an attempt at peace, restoring some of that which their ancestors had aspired for when they first arrived on this fertile island, generations ago.

It took another generation for them to witness the assimiliation of warring tribes into organized provinces, contained by established borders, appointed leaders and chosen representatives to present their interests and concerns in the center of it all. Bovane was the one province connected to them all. In their desire for a more peaceful way of life, they began to establish the very foundations their fore fathers had left behind. Seeing the power too easily corrupted by the men who tried to wield it.

Chapter One

Forty years had passed, the ancient chieftan shook his head at the irony as he looked down into the valley once again. Surveying the very images of carnage and the cruelty of hand to hand war that he had witnessed as a young boy. He turned to his son, sitting astride a large roan and smiled at him proudly. He turned his attention back to the brutality ravaging below, bowing his head and sighing.

On the eastern edge of the small plateu, a younger, blonde man sat on a large bay, observing the same brutality from a different angle. His dark blue eyes squinted against the sun, frowning as he watched the different provinces fighting for what they came to believe was right. Facing off against those who could not be content in having what they had, but needing to possess more than they needed. He bowed is own head, preparing himself to face the totality of having to kill or be killed, willing to die for what he had been raised into understanding. Might could make right if it was tempered with wisdom. He shook his head, turning it slightly to watch a dark man about the same age ride up.

"How goes the day Shaen?" His boyhood friend rode up, reining the palomino near his large bay and looked at the scene unfolding below, sighing.

They were an interesting contrast, the tall blonde man with short hair and blue eyes, closer than a brother to the large dark haired man with curls and eyes that were almost black, but their skill and ferocity with a wide variety of weapons was well known among their elite group.

His horse stomped and snorted nervously, catching the scent and sounds of battle. It's training in the art of war tempting it to rush into battle, waiting for the command from it's rider, doing as it was trained to do from birth. The bay a bit more restrained, bounced it's head a few time, seeming to agree with the palomino trying to prance it's way down the slope.

"Not good D, not good at all." The handsome blonde replied and sighed.

Davin looked again to the vally below, frowning, his dark eyes held the same look of concern and anticipation his friend had spent the morning pondering.

"So it's a battle we go to?" He chuckled wryly and turned his horse to lead the way down the small horse trail.

They rode to the bottom of the slight plateu, waving to the small band of men that had gathered. They were all dressed in identical armor, the same bright red crown and ring emblazoned upon their chest plates. Their armor wasn't black, but a flat gray shade to prevent any refraction of light or detection in the dusky night. The only differences they possessed were the differently colored shields each one bore. Each color representing one of the provinces they represented. They were all united by the oath their ancestors had made for keeping the sanctity of the island their fathers and grandfathers dreamed of, forged, succeed in attaining and gloroiusly died for so many years ago.

The history of the small group were romantic fireside stories, whispered as legends and myths. The violently brutal stories of their glory relayed from elder to youth. Boogeymen stories for the wicked, warning of the punishments that would be dealt to those who brought them out of the dusk with the show of cruelity, greed and death of the innocent. Through these legends they became known as the Dusk Knights. No one knew who they were, in the times of peace, few believed they were reality, but when their battle roar carried over a field of destruction, their horses thundering out of the dusk, their enemies knew peace would be established, before any of them could return to the darkness from which they came.

Their horse pranced up to the rest of the small group, the other horses began to stomp and snort, eager to charge into the battle they could hear on the wind and blood they could smell in the air. A large, red haired, bear like man who was known for a personality as big and loud as his voice. The cheer in his eyes, suggested none of the fierceness and glee he had when engaging in a righteous battle; he was known for. He stood surrounded by the young men, most were the sons and grandsons of those he had stood with in about the same spot as they were now years ago, their visors up giving them a more personal distinction from each other. He was joyfully relaying a story about a small barmaid that brought him down with one swing and a beer mug.

The laughter at the conclusion ended quickly, watching their commrades ride up, keeping their horses under a tight rein. The beasts armors covering their more vulnerable parts; clang slightly, similiar to the tolling of tiny bells.

"How goes it boyos, any word from Edward?" The man inquired, suddenly in a soft and serious tone, that made them all understand the severity of the mission.

He turned his attention to the tolling of bells coming up from behind. The large man squinted recognizing his oldest friend, riding down the other side of the plateu, his son followed solomnly behind, trotting over to stand over to his two friends who had surveyed the situation in the west.

Everyone knew he'd be high king and the leader of their legend when his father went to a better battle, in a better place.

"Not well Greghor, they're disorganized and scattered. I'm not sure if they even know who they're fighting or if they're even fighting allies, it's a chaotic mess of." Shaen bowed his head, closing his eyes, trying to push away what he had witnessed.

The old leader lowered his head considering this news sadly. "It's not going well in the east, either. They're not disorganized, but drasticly out numbered, the know it and it's showing in their moral. We're going to have to spread out and divide. Pray our presence will lend strength to those who need it and intimidate those who do not." He smiled when he looked at his son, nodded, letting them know their time was now, the sun was getting ready to set.

He held up a bright white banner, bearing the bold red crown and ring reflecting the association on their chest, an annoucement of their arrival to battle from a distance, glowing in the dimness of the approaching nigh. He looked to the sky and boldly dared a prayer to the fading gods of war, lowered his visor and turned to the men.

"Greghor, you take Shaen, Davin, Liote and their men to the west. I'll ride with Dormayne, Alward and Kie to the east." The King of Bovane spurred his horse up the small trail, followed by those he called to his side, lowering their visors, the other group did the same, heading to the east.


They blew deep horns to announce their arrival to small bands of elite warriors waiting for them to appear. Not knowing who they fought for, but were willing to die fighting with these knights of legend, their allegiance to these unknown men passed on from father to son with secret oaths made by blood.

"Remeber brave knights, we defend until our end." Greghor roared through his visor, stirring the battle lust in the men and their horse, now given loose rein to lope up the hill, eager for the freedom of battle.

The knights lined the edge of the plateu, each able to see for himself what they were fighting for. This was the first technique they were taught to use, hoping the fear and awe that surrounded their myths would offer hope and stir the courage and moral of those men who were fighting for their rights to peace and freedom to trade their goods fairly. Having come to enjoy a life of unity and prosperty living as neighbors.

Edward pranced his war horse gallantly across the crest, taking time to bellow their inherited prayer for glory and righteous victory in battle, making sure everyone below could witness the banner. He raised his shield, bashing his sword into the metal. Yelled an indiscernable battle cry, joined by the other men. He roared to his gods, leading the charge down the hill. The rest of the men followed, using the same technique for the deception of greatness to their small number and hoped the surpised realization that the Dusk Knights were reality and not myth would help them gain the upper hand in the sloppy battle they thundered into.

The battle was more brutal than they had witnessed, men lay split open on the blood soaked grown, some were moaning for a relief from the agony they were left to die with. The knights easily swung and thrust their way through those who opposed what they stood for, few having a chance against the crushing hoofs and skull cracking blows. Those left that had accepted defeat, watched with the realization of hope as the knights on horses, and their red clothed warriors were fighting for them, with them. It renewed their determination to fight against the threat of tyranny, watching as their enemies realized they had indeed errored in doubting the leged of these defenders of the weak and innocent.

Alward continued to battle his way through to reach the middle of the field, he jumped and thrust his sword deep into a man's chest, and turned in time to dodge another , and slice the man from shoulder to waist. Some of his hot blood splattering through the protective eye guard of his helmet.

He found an odd stillness on the field, surveying the throngs of men laying dying all around him, some twisting in agony, gasping with their last breaths for death He turned full cirlce, and felt his heart stop watching his father overwhelmed by a sudden surge in the desperate attempt by a few who refused to accept defeat. He yelled catching sight of Davin, a few yards away. Davin ducked and punched the opponent he faced, knocking the man unconscious with the impact of his large gauntlet. He turned, witnessing his friend's horror.

Davin rushed in watching as a large spear was plunged deep into Edward's back. The ancient leader had not yet registered the impalement as he lunged forward, ending the life of the man in front, spinning around to gut the man who came from behind, seeing no one left, he fell to his knees, gasping through a spittle of blood, gathering inside his visor. He lifted off the helmet, letting it tumble to the ground. He smiled watching his son running over, lifting his own visor with tears in his eyes.

Edward held his beath and let himself fall back, feeling the resitance and then sharp pain as the spear slid slowly through his body, grinding against the metal of his chest place. He growled in pain, gasping a deeper breath as his son jerked out the rest of the spear, and lifted his father's head into his lap. Alward fumbled with the straps, removing his father's plate metal chest piece and pressed his hand against the shiny chain beneath, hoping to stop the bleeding wound. He watched desperatly as Davin finished the battle, running to his friends side. Davin finally reached his side and fell to his own knees, joining in his friends sorrow, bowing his head letting his own tears fall with his new King holding his dead father.

The other knights had finished the last of their own battles, making sure the aggressors were dead, leaving those left to clean up the mess, keeping those who were alive enough to relay any important information. Reaching the center of the battle. Turning to the direction, hearing one of their own roaring his sorrow to the sky. They found themselves gathering again in a circle, bowing their heads all feeling the same sorrow for the loss of the great man.

Greghor and a few of those who took longer to arrive, blew whistles, summoning their horses silent to human ears. The large man lifted his oldest friend, who left him theone of the only two survivors left from the origins of their myth. They lifted up the dead leader, placing him on his horse. Davin helped Alward stand and lowered his visor, joined by the other men, who silently led their horses, following Greghor who led his friend on his last ride to glory.

~Anya~

The young girl startled from the disturbing dream of faraway men wearing different colors in battle. She wiped away tears, trying to remember what it was about the dream that made her cry. She jumped hearing the crack of thunder, and realized there was a knocking on the door in the hall down stairs, followed by a commotion. She rushed out, not thinking about the robe on the floor to cover her thin gown, but dashed back to grab the small jeweled dagger she slept with, under her pillow. Smiling remebering the few simple techniques of thrusting and twisting it for the most effect, her father had shown her.

A tiny shiver of thrill passed through her body, stopping at the door, she knew it was something big. She listened through the wood hearing nothing but the distant commotion. She opened the door slightly, peeking out seeing no one on the landing, she slipped out and padded down the hall to stand at the banister inquisitively looking down to the gathering in the hall. She glanced down feeling chilled and a forming tightness in her breasts, and covered the taught nipples pressing out the thin material, with her arms not aware she was being watched by the cloaked figure speaking with her father.

She watched as he handed a folded piece of parchement to her father, and furrowed her brows curious what inspired a sudden passing of sadness across his face. She found herself shocked and blushing hearing his father use words she had never heard from him, but frequently from her brother. She watched him turn to her mother dressed more appropriatly in a dressing robe and cap, realizing she had forgotten hers. Her mother nodded in greeting to the man who stood inside, wet and dripping on her marble floor. She read the letter and placed a hand to her mouth, tears swelled into her eyes and flowed over. She looked up to her husband as he turned to tell her what to do, and they both headed to the back of the house.

She sensed a presence behind her and frowned seeing her brother step up close, she felt ill as he pressed his body to hers, and easily sidestepped him, and skittered down a few steps. She glared back at him and sat down on the steps quickly, hugging her knees to her chest shivering at the odd look she saw on his face as he looked her over. She rolled her eyes and turning disdainfully, she returned her attentions back to the cloaked figure who she realized had been watching her since she first stepped out, bowing slightly in her direction.

She smiled slightly, wondering who this person was, nibbling the corner of her lip. She watched eagerly as large gloved hands lifted the hood back. She inhaled feeling a strange warmness spread through her body when he smiled at her and playfully winked, making her blush for his delight.

He watched her amused, knowing what her body language was inviting, finding it amusing that she wasn't aware of it. His eyes danced wickedly over the huddled form. He stepped forward a bit to see her eyes. Remebering the vision he first saw of the pretty girl standing, looking at her full breast curiously, the thin material of gown leaving too much for his imagination. He looked into the eyes of many women, even those equal to her social standing, and he saw a passion dancing in her eyes, he rarely noticed in most women he had experienced. Few caring to do more than accept an offer of a husband or services for a pouch of gold and a title.

A shimmering glint in her hand caught his attention, he noticed the small jewelled dagger she clutched. He was caught off guard, knowing what it signified, especially if her father passed it to her, and not his son. He found himself staring again into her large green eyes, the slight tilt of her head now resting dreamily on her arms, and the flush in her cheeks making him want her, not because he knew it'd be easy to have her, but because there was something different about the innocence of this little rich girl, held spellbound by his charms.

He was able to pull his eyes away, hearing her father walkd down the hall, his wife following with a mug of warm tea, handing it to him, as several servents rushed up dressed, nodding understanding the instructions of what to do, where to go and who to see.

He couldn't help himself, he again glanced at her, wanting to capture the memory of her innocent beauty, boldy watching him. She was as pretty sitting in that position; not as sinful to look at when he first saw her, or as pleasant, witnessing her graceful movement quickly side stepping her brother and sitting in a defensive position, not missing a step or making a sound.

He glanced past her to assess the tall, thin man towering behind her. Watching her as a master wishing to break a slave. The dangerous, hungry look in his cruel eyes watching; angry as she sat content to look at the stranger that stood below him. He shook his head, realizing she was oblivious to her brothers shameful attentions, inappropriate for a brother to have for his sister. The sudden desire to protect her, fearing the twisted smile on the thin man's lips and what he would do to her if he had the opportunity. Davin knew she needed someone to keep her safe from the brutality he witnessed in the man's predator like nature, and her regrettfully unaware of the effect she had on men, sitting pleased to just watch him, wondering about the strange heat, spreading through her body.

Her father looked up, suspicious as to what he young knight was observing with such calculated interest. He sighed with a slight smile noticing his daughter sitting quietly on the steps, not noticing anything but the young man standing before her father. Davin glanced to her father and lowered his eyes, watching the small smile of pride for his pretty daughter fading as he let his eyes rest on her brother, turning angry. The thin man turned and walked silently through the second door on the right, as her father whispered to her mother, directing her attention to the stairs.

Amalia walked by Davin, apologizing in a quick passing, humbly to the dark handsome man, and rushed up the stairs, jerking her daughter up by the arm, scolding her for such behavior in front of a guest. Continuing to chastise her as she shoved her through the first door on the right. Davin felt bad she had been chastised and looked to her father silently apologizing to him. He walked over, placing his arm around the young man, letting him know his anger was not toward him, or his only daughter he noticed sitting demurely on the stairs...