The Creation of the Twin Swords
       During ancient times, many blacksmiths and artisans were commissioned by lords and kings, all to create the perfect weapon of war.  Hundreds of new siege engines were invented thusly, their creators becoming rich beyond their dreams from them.  Some Magicians began to enter into the melee of weapon making, and powerful swords, maces, halberds, pikes and lances came into existence.
        As with all the magic of Kahlan, all these weapons were imbued with one of the six elements of nature, Fire, Wind, Water, Earth, Destruction, and Creation.  Fire counters Wind, Wind counters Earth, Earth counters Water, Water counters Fire.  Only the last two, Destruction and Creation, cannot be countered in quite the same way.  Creation and Destruction neutralize each other, and are strengthened and weakened by certain elements.  Creation gains strength from Water and Earth and is weakened by Fire and Wind, and Destruction in the opposite, but neither can be completely destroyed.  Thus, any weapon imbued with the elements of Creation and Destruction  also cannot be destroyed.  Unfortunately, or fortunately, creating such weapons is such an incredible task, with dangerous and uncertain processes and products, that very few Mages ever attempt it. In fact, only the most powerful of Mages could ever succeed without losing their own life.
        Hundreds of years before the coronation of King Ulmerad, a great Wizard by the name of Jexious fled into what is now Ikros, being hunted down by a warlord named Grak desperate for Jexious' knowledge of magical weapon smithy.  A week earlier, Jexious had decided that he no longer wanted his magics to be used for evil, destructive purposes.  He had decided to escape, but when his chance arrived, he was immediately caught.  Not wanting to be killed for and escape attempt, and not wanting to be returned to his cell, Jexious waved his hand and destroyed his would be captors.  While escaping over the exterior wall of the fortress in which he was held, one of Grak's sharpshooters shot an arrow into Jexious' side, but failed to stop him.  Grak ordered his six best trackers to hunt Jexious down, he wanted him alive, he wanted weapons.  Weakened by his wound and exhausted by days of running, Jexious found a small cave and hid there, he could no longer run.  This was his last chance at freedom, if the Grak's men could not find him there, then he would finally be free. Unfortunately, the warlord's men knew that if they came back empty handed, they would be killed for their incompetence, and within four hours they came upon Jexious' cave.  As five men entered the cave, one spoke to Jexious, calling him out, telling him
that he would not be harmed.  Jexious responded with a weakened "Never."  One of the trackers stepped forward, sword in hand, trying to grasp at Jexious' robe, Jexious tried to fight them off with what little energy he had left.  The tracker, angry and tired of chasing this mage, took his sword and ran it through Jexious.  Out of justice for his own death, and out of the shear
anger toward his pursuers, Jexious gathered his magical powers and let loose with everything within him.  The last thing Grak's men saw was a bright flash of white hot light as the whole countryside for miles was obliterated.
        Within the smoldering pit where Jexious once stood, hovered two small spheres of energy, one of pure, holy light, one of tainted dark light.  The two spheres circled each other, trying to push into the other, but their powers prevented it.  They spun faster and faster, hitting against one another with greater and greater force.  And suddenly, as the two spheres slammed into each other again, another small explosion rocked the countryside, sending the two spheres hurdling in opposite directions.  The light to the east, the dark to the west.
    The sixth of Grak's trackers, staying behind thanks to a lame horse, witnessed the two explosions, and returned to report what he saw...
 

The 30 Year War
        Grak was an ambitious tyrant, and his neighboring country of Yalmar was the first to pay in blood for that ambition.  Even to this day, very little grows in Yalmar, the ground still scorched by Grak's magical war machine.  Zol became a powerful and very real threat to all of Kahlan, and the rulers of all the other nations knew this.  Not wanting to see their own kingdoms be wasted like Yalmar, five different, separate armies converged on Zol.  In a three day battle, Grak's war machine was crushed and broken, and Grak killed for war crimes.  The leaders of the five armies then began to squabble over this unruled land, and another battle flared.  A full week of fighting ensued, and only a handful from each army survived to return home.  Thanks to this battle, known as the Bloody Flood after the way the hills of the land, soaked in death, looked like a blood sea, Zol was destroyed just like it's neighbor.
        Thanks to the Bloody Flood, the armies of the kingdoms of Kahlan were brought to almost nothing, and this lead to a long period of peace.  With no armies to fight with, all the kingdoms started a lasting period of isolationism.  Ikros also began a period of dark rule by greedy and heartless kings.  Known as the Dark Kings, they began to build up an army to expand Ikros' borders.  But the people, unsatisfied with oppression as a way of life, would rise up against one Dark King after another, only to have another fill his place.  The countryside was thrown into chaos and martial law.  Peasants were taxed heavily to fuel Ikros's war machine and soldiers were sent to keep the peasants from revolting.  In fact, under King Barlock's rule, there were more troops in and around Ikros' villages then were in the standing army.  Barlock was also the last of what they would be later called the Dark Kings.
 In Ikros's capital city lived a young man named Daravon, a thief by trade, an escape artist by nature.  Daravon stole what he needed, food, clothes, and he got by rather well.  Barlock guards only caught him once, and Daravon escaped from their chains within an hour.  But like all thieves, eventually Daravon got stuck in a position that he could not escape from.  After stealing his afternoon meal from a local shop keep, he was chased down by Barlock Guards into a corner, trapped between swords and stone walls.  Only out of the luck of the angry shop keep tripping over himself and knocking over a couple guards was Daravon saved, and he ran.  Not away from the guards but completely out of the city, into the hills.  Hunted by the angry guards, Daravon ran for weeks, deeper into the hills, into the mountains, the Barlock Guards always on his tail.
        And then one day the whispers started.  They were hard to understand, too low and muddled to comprehend.  Daravon could not escape them, they would haunt his dreams, and as he ran farther into the mountains, the whispers became louder and louder, until one afternoon the whispers stopped and were replaced by one, loud, crisp word.  Stop.
        It was there that Daravon found a small shrine, carved into a rock wall.  It was nothing more than a small indention in the rock with a stone alter.  But, on this stone alter was a shining sword, which began to slowly float off the alter as Daravon grew near.  Daravon slowly reached out his hand and grasped the sword.  And, as legend and rumor has it, it spoke to him....
        "Daravon...   Daravon...  Daravon the hunted thief....  I have been awaiting you....  The name I have given myself is Terror Shadow...  With me at your side, you will need not worry about those who seek to destroy you....  We will destroy them...."
        And with that, Daravon turned just in time to see the Barlock Guards find him.  With Hell fire in his eyes, Daravon charged them, less with his own skill but more with the power of the sword, and cut the Head Guard in two with one stroke.  With the second, he killed two more guards, and by the fourth, Daravon was the only one left standing.  Daravon slowly
walked back to the Ikros Capital...

        In the vast open country of Ikros's farmland, a small family was gathered around a small grave.  Uthor and his wife never thought they would have to bury their young daughter.  It had been a show of force, a lesson to be taught to the other families not to go up against King Barlock.  Uthor had tried to rally the people to fight Barlock, and as punishment, Barlock had order not to have Uthor killed, but his eldest child.  This devastated Uthor, and he held himself up within his modest cabin, his wife and son forced to do all the work for almost two months.
        As Uthor's son was tending to the small flock of sheep the family owned, he heard a voice whisper his name...
    "Ulmerad...."
        Ulmerad spun around, seeing no one.  Brushing it off as his imagination, he went back to watching the sheep graze on the lush green pasture.
    "Ulmerad..."  the voice whispered again, more insistently.
        Ulmerad called out to the voice, but no one answered.  Ulmerad became very curious at the voice calling his name for a third time, and began to walk around, checking every little tree and rock where someone could hide from him.  As he approached the family water well, the whisper grew louder into a lovely and calming voice.  Ulmerad peered down into the well and saw a small glowing light deep within the water rising up to him.  The sword came up to eye level with Ulmerad and floated before him.  Taking it in his hands, the sword spoke to him...
    "Young Ulmerad... I am Holy Light... Your destiny and my own are from now on one in the same...  The shepherd's life is not yours, you have a greater future... Let me guide you..."
        Confused and excited, Ulmerad ran home, sword in hand.  As he reached the log house that Ulmerad had called home his entire life, his jaw dropped in amazement as he saw a flames flicker, and black smoke begin to billow out of the straw roof. And then, as he walked closer, he saw a group of Barlock Guards throw his parents into the blazing inferno that was once his
home.  Holy Light began to glow with a pure white light, and pulled Ulmerad towards the soldiers.  With an attack fitting of the best sword master, Ulmerad cut down all the soldiers where they stood.  As Ulmerad turned to save his parents, he saw the house collapse in on itself, sending up a huge pillar of flame into the afternoon sky.  Ulmerad dropped Holy Light and fell to his
knees, not believing what he had done to these guards and even less at what they had done to his parents, weeping.  As neighbors ran to him, reacting to the sight of distant smoke and flames, Holy Light spoke to Ulmerad once more...
    "Ulmerad...  For centuries I have been witness to atrocities like this one occur to the people of this place, and felt it all over Ikros...  We must put a stop to Barlock and his evil reign...  Please... Let us fight him together... Take me into your hands and we will avenge your family... And all the families of Ikros..."
        As legend goes, Ulmerad slowly picked up the sword and walked away, never looking back...

    In the light of the setting sun, Daravon finally reached Ikros' capitol with vengeance on his mind.  He knew that Barlock must pay for his crimes, and none of the poor, down trodden people of Ikros could do it.  As he approached the city gates, Barlock Guards stopped him, knowing all too well that this was the thief that a hand full of guards had gone after and who had not yet returned.  They questioned him, walking toward him briskly, swords in hand.  But Daravon would not speak, and instead lifted his newly acquired Terror Shadow and attacked the two guards, killing them swiftly.
    Many witnessed the act, and more guards were called to the scene to put down the rebel.  But as Daravon walked into the city and to the keep where Barlock resided, guard after guard were slain, killed before they could even lay a hand on him.  Daravon walked like a man possessed, and in many respects he was.  Terror Shadow constantly spoke to him of incoming danger and amplified his hatred for the Dark King.  The sword seemed to feed off of the destruction caused by the young thief, and each guard died more swiftly and more easily than the last.  The people around watched in awe as this young boy calmly walked down the streets of the capitol, killing guards with unflinching effort.  Some of the brave began to follow him, wondering what might he do next.

    Ulmerad knew that the only place he could find Barlock was the capitol, and after a few days travel, he had arrived.  Along the way he had found a farmer trapped under his overturned cart, struggling to free himself as the horse that was pulling the cart whinnied and bucked trying in vain to free itself.  Ulmerad had freed the stranger, and being grateful, the farmer offered his horse to the young shepherd.  Ulmerad declined, saying where he was going wasn't far, and the farmer needed the horse more than he anyway.  The farmer, still wanting to thank the lad, decided to travel with Ulmerad to keep him company.
    As the two travelers approached the capitol, they were baffled at the chaos that was ensued behind the gates.  Ulmerad began to run toward the city, with the farmer right on his heels.  Upon entering the city, the two found guards running in every direction and citizens locking their doors and closing their windows tight.  Anyone Ulmerad questioned about it just warned of an evil demon walking the streets and how they needed to flee for their lives.  Undaunted, Ulmerad walked toward Barlock's keep, wanting to finish the evil job that he set out to do.

    That is when the clouds became dark, and lightning began to dance around the sky.  Holy Light began to glow strong, almost pulling Ulmerad along toward the keep's entrance.  Ulmerad gasped as a bolt of lightning shot down and split, one arch heading straight toward Holy Light, and the other to a sword a young man was carrying not a few yards away.  The two swords became ablaze in light, a lasting arch of energy connecting the two.  Terror Shadow and Holy Light began to fill each boys minds, and for a second or two, the two could hear each other's thoughts.
    The bridge of light between the swords dissipated and the two young men approached each other.  They each spoke of their quest to kill Barlock, and knowing the other's intentions, both walked into the keep together.  Daravon and Ulmerad quickly dispatched all the guards that were thrown in their path, cutting huge swaths through living walls of men.
    Upon reaching Barlock's throne room, Holy Light thrust itself into the large oak door and set it ablaze.  The fire was so intense that the door melted away quickly, and as the smoke and flames died and cleared, the pair saw Barlock, dressed in a flowing robe, sword in hand.  He was ready for them, unknowing the power the two swords that they carried possessed.
 Daravon charged at the awaiting king, swinging his sword low and two the right, only to be blocked by the sword of Barlock.  Ulmerad followed quickly and swung high and to the left, but Barlock just ducked out of the way.  The three battled and fought for several minutes, and by then Ulmerad and Daravon knew that the sword Barlock carried was enchanted by a powerful magic.  Perhaps this is how he kept his power for so long.
    Becoming increasingly desperate, Barlock grabbed a torch and began to wave it at the pair, trying to hold them at bay.  But as he backed up, Barlock tripped and fell backward.  As he fell, Ulmerad swung his sword true, and severed both of Barlock's hands.  Daravon followed through with a swift blow into Barlock's chest, cutting him in two.  Death came to Barlock before he ever hit the ground.
    Ulmerad looked down at the body of the former king, and then at Daravon who was cleaning Terror Shadow of all evidence of the wicked deed.  Without a word, Daravon walked out of the room, and out of the city, knowing swift justice had been done.  Ulmerad on the other hand, stayed behind, carrying the body of Barlock to be disposed of in a manor fit for such a vile man.  Upon seeing the young man carrying the body of their tyrant, the people began to cheer, surrounding Ulmerad and giving him praise.  They began to tear the body of Barlock apart, piece by piece, each peasant keeping a little piece for a memento.
    One in the crowd cried out for Ulmerad's name, and as he gave it, his name was shouted from every corner of the city.  A universal cheer came as they called out for the young man to be crowned the new king of Ikros.  Ulmerad was overwhelmed, stumbling backward into the waiting throng of villagers.  Holy Light began to glow once more, and the crowd grew silent.  It began to speak to Ulmerad a third time.
    "Ulmerad, you have defeated the evil Lord Barlock, but his vile stench still lingers in the air.  Take the crown they offer you, undo the damage that has been wrought."
    A peasant took the crown off the Dark King and placed it atop Ulmerad's head and the crowed cheered.  Ulmerad began to smile and called out to them.
    "People of Ikros, Lord Barlock is dead, but his evil still resides in our land.  I will accept your crown, but only until the wrongs have been undone."
    The masses cheered at this, and lifted Ulmerad up, parading him throughout the streets of the capitol.

    In the weeks that past, Ulmerad began to set up new laws, disbanding the Barlock Guards, and sent the majority of the standing army of Ikros on indefinite leave.  One month after Barlock's death, Ikros held a feast in their new king's honor.  The fattest cows were slaughtered, the richest wines were poured, and the streets of Ikros were ablaze in firelight and good cheer.  A large table was set up in the square, and it seemed all of Ikros had gathered to see their new king.  Ulmerad was urged on to speak unto the people, and reluctantly, he did so.
    "My friends, my subjects, I wish you had not gone through this much effort for me.  I do not plan to be your king for much longer, for much of my predecessor's work has been erased."
    The crowed booed him, several brave citizens cried out that they loved what he had done so far, and they wished for him to continue.  A great cry of approval came from the crowd and they all cheered at Ulmerad.  With great surprise Ulmerad questioned the crowd, if they truly wanted him to remain their king.  A resounding and unified yes attacked Ulmerad's ears, followed by even greater cheering than before.  Ulmerad smiled and raised his hands to quiet them.
    "If you wish me to be king so much, then I accept.  I will be your king as long as you'll have me.  Let this mark the day of a new era for Ikros, a time of peace and prosperity for all!"
    "Yes, praise him, praise only him!" a loud shrill voice called out.  The crowd separated and opened up to reveal Daravon standing with Terror Shadow in hand.  He walked over to Ulmerad's table and stood before the new king.  Giving an over dramatic bow, Daravon spat at Ulmerad's feet and called out again.
    "It was I who delivered the final blow to Barlock!  It was I who destroyed his guards!  And yet you chose to praise... this."  Daravon pointed to Ulmerad, spitting again.  The month that had past was not easy for Daravon, Terror Shadow had constantly whispered to him, telling him of the things that past in the capitol.  Of how the young man he fought Barlock with was now king of all Ikros, and that he should have had at least half of the wealth that the title brought with it.  And now, Daravon stood, ready to do battle with Ulmerad, full of nothing but envy and hatred.
    Daravon lifted Terror Shadow quickly and swung it at the king amidst gasps and shrieks of horror coming from the crowd.  Holy Light was lifted and blocked the incoming blow, causing a thunderous boom that shook the entire city.  Ulmerad countered with a thrust toward the gut, but Daravon knocked it away.  Again their ears were attacked by the explosive sound as before as the two swords met.  The two continued to fight, advancing, retreating, all the while sparks began to fly as the swords hit each other.  Huge flashes of light began to emanate from the clashing swords as they met, and the sound of thunder could be heard.
    The two continued to fight, but with every touch against the other sword, both grew weaker.  The swords began to leach out energy from the men who wielded them, and soon both Ulmerad and Daravon were two weak to fight.  Daravon backed away and sheathed his sword, calling out to the crowd.
    "This is far from over!  I shall rule this land or have it destroyed and remade as I see fit!"  With that he walked off quickly, the crowd closing in on their weakened king and carrying him back to his room in the keep.
    Ulmerad and Daravon soon went to work building their defenses, Ulmerad fortifying his city and Daravon building up his forces.  These military buildups were what can be contributed to the creation of the Knights of the Lion's crest and the Dragon Crest Knights.  The Lion's Crest received their namesake thanks to the royal seal of Ikros.  Daravon chose the dragon for his forces for the fear the symbol represents.  The years following saw many battles between the two armies, with many casualties.  In fact, within the first ten years alone, the population of Ikros had been decreased by a full half.  The population had been split in two in a another respect, those who supported the just, new king, and those who supported that promises of global conquest.  Unfortunately, this gave Daravon the immediate advantage, all of the ambitious, power hungry men joined him.  These same men, for the most part, were also the most battle hardened and skilled.
    However, Ulmerad had the favor of all the producers of Ikros.  The farmers, the blacksmiths, and all other artisans of Ikros in fear of the chaos of global war, joined the king in search of economic safety.  This brought Ulmerad a small, choice band of strong, skilled warriors, outfitted with all of the best equipment of the kingdom.  It was this advantage that allowed Ulmerad to hold off Daravon's relentless assault for so long.  Without food producers and weapon makers, Daravon had to stoop to stealing equipment from the battlefield, and gathered food from the land.  Beyond that, the Dragon Crest Knights had no real fortress in which to rest and recover.  Being always on the move, they grew weaker and became split up easily.
    During this time, Ulmerad had the people of Ikros who chose not to take up arms, and who did not have important tasks to do, put to work in building a magnificent castle city that would become the new seat of command for the kingdom.  In the thirteenth year of the war, in a feat of shear luck and planning, the entire capitol was moved in one week to the new castle three days away.  After the whole city was deserted, Ulmerad had the old capitol burned to the ground so as to not allow Daravon to take advantage of it.
    The smoke attracted the Dragon Crest, and as the baffled Daravon came upon the city, his hopes of winning the war grew to an almost assured reality.  That is, until his scouts came back with news of a new castle, somehow built unnoticed, brimming with thousands of people.  Enraged, Daravon reportedly killed his head general immediately and ordered that any building materials that could be salvaged from the rubble of the capitol be done so.  Daravon knew he would need a fortress of his own now, he needed the protection and the organization.  He could not win the war with simple random skirmishes anymore...
 Many more years passed, the battles became much more bloody, much more intense, but also much less frequent.  In fact, in the last five years of the thirty years war, only three battles were waged, and the people of Ikros had almost forgot they were in a state of civil war.  Peace was beginning to overcome both sides of the conflict.  Most of the ideals that Daravon had bestowed into his army in the beginning had become only a memory, and most of the men had no clue why they were fighting, only knowing war throughout their short lives.  In fact, despite Daravon's fortress in the mountains, Ulmerad had managed to regain control of most of Ikros.
    But then, news from the south flowed into the kingdom.  A new threat was in the kingdom.  Valk, Ikros' neighbor to the south, was invading in full force.  A barbarian horde boasting a full three thousand men, destroyed the trading village on the Ikros border, taking no prisoners.  Upon hearing of this news, Ulmerad sent a dispatch to Daravon, asking that the two lords meet on equal ground.  Daravon, surprising almost everyone in the kingdom, accepted to meet with the King.
    They met on an empty hill, near the center of the kingdom.  Only the two lords and one attendant each were present.  Ulmerad learned that the destroyed village in the south had been Daravon's hometown, and although he had left it, he still cared for the family that lived there.  After dispatching a scout, Daravon had learned that not one member of his family had escaped the attack.  Daravon wanted justice, and Daravon knew that there was now a greater threat that Ulmerad.  The two lords agreed on a truce.  And then, two weeks later, for the first time, the Lion Crest Knights and the Knights of the Dragon's Crest met on the field of battle, not as enemies, but as comrades in arms.  In one massive campaign, in little under a month, the united army swept south and pushed all of the barbarian hordes out of Ikros entirely.  Knowing that a barbarian threat still existed, Ulmerad and Daravon united the people of Ikros.  After leaving a garrison of troops in the south, the two left together to Ulmerad's castle city, and Daravon was made Ulmerad's chief advisor.  Although Ulmerad remained king and high ruler of Ikros, Daravon was given all the title and wealth he had wanted at the beginning of the war.  Daravon recognized that Ulmerad was his king, but Ulmerad recognized that he could not order Daravon to do anything.  It was a shaky alliance at first, but in time, it became to be a very strong friendship.

The Rise of Lord Ethelred
    Many years after the exorcism of the barbarian hordes from Ikros' lands, rumors began to flow in from the north.  Out of the mountain communities of Ikros, near the border of Zol, came news of the living dead.  Only one or two were scene at first, and they were easily destroyed by the peasants, but as the years went on, more and more of these undead horrors would come into a village and attack someone.  Ulmerad repeatedly sent out groups of soldiers to help aid the peasants with their undead problems, but as soon as the soldiers entered the town, no more undead were seen.  And after several months of being very bored, the soldiers would return home, only to be sent out again because the reemergence of the walking dead.  Indeed it was a frustrating time for many.
    And then, six years ago, the disappearances started.  People from all over northern Ikros were disappearing left and right.  A mass exodus began as flocks of people began swarming toward the capitol.  Ulmerad sent out one of his best knights, Sir Haleron, to free the northern territory from this fear.  Haleron took with him several knights, and they set off.  They entered Zol territory, after following a fleeing undead creature.  A day into Zol, they came across a foreboding keep, crawling with the undead.  After scouting the keep from all sides, the team of knights infiltrated it, and discovered that an evil wizard, known as Dark Hand, was responsible for the undead creatures crawling into Ikros.  They also discovered, to their horror, a dungeon full of peasants that had been captured.  Most were already dead from painful and bloody torture, others were too sick or wounded to move.  Taking all that they could, Haleron and the knights then forced their way out of the keep.  All made it out, save one.
    Haleron returned to Ikros a hero, and was made King Ulmerad's second advisor, and commander of the Lion Crest Knights.  Those peasants who had chosen to stay in their homes in the north began to send word that the undead had ceased to drift in from the north, and that all seemed well once more.  Ulmerad set up a garrison in the north just in case, but all thoughts of the undead left his mind.
    A year passed with no incident.  Then two.  The kingdom became very prosperous, and for the first time in two centuries, Ikros began trading with its peaceful neighbors.  The kingdom was in a state of bliss.
    But unbeknown to Ulmerad or Daravon, a great evil was stirring in the north.  It was rumored that the first thought that something was amiss came to both men in a dream on the same night.  That their two swords told them about an evil presence in the land.  No matter how they were told, or if they even knew, Ulmerad sent an order to his best scouts to head to Zol.  They never returned.
    Knowing that this could be a serious matter, Ulmerad himself went out, with Daravon at his side.  Despite the pleas for restraint from the Queen and his daughter, Ulmerad took a handful of his best knights, Haleron, Kullvox, Tundrock, and Liphon, and set out with Daravon at his side.  They traveled north, questioning every village and town between the capitol and the northern border.  The stopped every vagrant traveler on every road they were on and asked what they knew.  No one knew anything about Zol, except that it was there, barren and almost deserted.  A place of evil and destruction.
    Only until they entered into the border town of Vieleane did they find a clue that they were so desperately trying to find.  An old woman, dying of disease, began to scream out, possessed by some unknown force.  Before she passed on, killed from her violent thrashing, she cried out "He is coming! He is coming!"  Baffled by this, the group went on, knowing all too well that whatever they were searching for would be there waiting for them, in Zol.  Deep into the territory that had been deemed taboo.  After two days ride, following the mystic swords that the two Lords carried with them, the knights came upon the battered remains of a keep.  As they road closer, an eerie fog covered them, and soon the keep disappeared from view.
    It was then that they came.  Hundreds of them.  The undead encircled them, closing in on them, and began to attack.  The knights began to desperately fight them off.  For a full fifteen minutes the battle waged.  And then the fog lifted, and the undead horrors went with it.  Replaced by a lone figure near the keep.  A man, dressed all in black, wearing a black cloak, walked over to the group slowly.  Lifting his arm, the man began to slowly rise in the air.
    "Is this that Dark Hand you were telling us about Haleron?"  Daravon questioned softly.  Haleron shook his head.
    "No, this is someone I've never seen.  But he certainly looks more imposing than Dark Hand ever did."
    "I..." the man started, his voice seemed to come from everywhere, "I... am Ethelred.... the Necromancer, ruler of this domain.... You are treading on ground on which you should not be!"  A thunderbolt leapt from the man's hand, striking the ground at Ulmerad's horse's feet.  Ulmerad's horse reared up, nearly throwing him.
    "This land belongs to me..." Ethelred stated again, "I have taken it as easily as I have taken all the others.... and all the rest of Kahlan will be mine as well.  I control life... I control death... All things shall fall before me.... starting with YOU!"  Ethelred fired another bolt of lightning from his hand, this time hitting Ulmerad's shield, knocking the king to the ground.  Liphon was quick to act, and quickly speaking an incantation, and within an instant the whole group was surrounded by a magical shield.  Haleron and Kullvox had dismounted to help their king.
    "This shield will not hold long, we must flee..."  Liphon pleaded as Ulmerad was helped back up onto his horse.  Another bolt of lightning hit was fired, hitting the shield hard, creating a deafening roar.
    "FOOLS!"  Ethelred proclaimed, "You can't hide behind low level magics like this forever!"  He fired a fourth bolt of lightning, this time creating a hole in the shield, which quickly healed itself.  Ulmerad looked at his knights and then at Daravon, who had never taken his eyes off of the evil wizard.
    "Gentlemen, I think our welcome has been outstayed," Ulmerad spoke softly, clearly shaken from the magical blast.  "Will this shield follow us on our way?"  He asked Liphon, who responded with a slow nod.  The group quickly began riding on their way home, pushing their horses as hard as possible.  The sky grew dark, and an evil laughter filled the air, it reached all the way across all of Kahlan.
    Ulmerad was deeply disturbed by this encounter, as was Daravon.  As they made it back to the capitol city, they all watched as ominous clouds rolled over the countryside.  They knew these would not be good times.
    The following years saw wave after wave of the undead horde invade all the northern lands of Kahlan.  It became commonplace to see a battalion of fully armed soldiers marching northward, most likely to their deaths to ward off the undead threat.  These were indeed dark times for Ikros, as well as all of Kahlan.  Ethelred began to send in special undead creatures out as assassins, to kill the leaders of any army willing to oppose him.  Ikros lost many good commanders this way.  Ulmerad had sent out a decree that no one would be allowed out of doors past sunset, as this was the time the undead seemed to be the most active.  Once again a mass exodus from the northern territories began.  Ikrosians began to pour into the capitol city, seeking shelter from the Horde.  There seemed to be nothing anyone could do to stop this threat.  Life, as anyone knew it, would change forever.