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once again. The tension subsided with each passing moment, and Duncan realized he had neither seen nor heard the medallion about Casimir’s neck.
    Duncan returned his hand to the squeaky wooden drawer and lifted it slightly before pulling slowly once again. With the slides lightened of their burden, Duncan was able to quietly open the drawer far enough to verify that the medallion was not there. He slowly closed the drawer, wondering if he and Kendrick were wrong about Casimir.
    He was scanning the room once more, preparing for another trek across the floor, when his eyes came to rest on Casimir’s sword. It leaned against the wall, within Casimir’s reach. Duncan stepped closer and saw the glint of a chain about the hilt. He reached behind the scabbard and felt the cool metal of a medallion suspended by the silver chain wrapped about the hilt.
    Barely breathing, Duncan lifted the medallion out of the dark shadows near the floor. He tilted the sword away from the wall, carefully removed the chain, and returned the sword back to its balancing point on the wall. Careful not to let the chain jingle, he brought the medallion closer to his eyes, adjusting it back and forth until the minusculeamount of ambient moonlight reflected off the image enough for him to inspect it.
    The sight of the dragon suspended above Arrethtrae brought chills to his entire body, for the eyes of the dragon seemed to glow and pierce him like fiery darts. In an instant he recognized the presence of evil—and not just one evil knight, but an entire evil force. It was as if this man Casimir was the quintessence of Lucius himself.
    Fighting the fear that swelled within him, Duncan forced himself to inspect the medallion further, hoping to find more clues as to Casimir’s origin. He flipped it over to see more intricate etchings and a word he did not recognize:
RA.
He turned the medallion over once again and noticed a clearly indented area within the raised map of Arrethtrae, in the central region of the kingdom.
    Duncan finished his inspection of the medallion and hung it once more about the hilt of Casimir’s sword. As he set the sword carefully back against the wall, he suddenly became overwhelmed with the desire to flee. Handling the medallion unnerved him. So did being in the room with a man whose soul had been darkened by the evil of Lucius and his Shadow Warriors.
    Duncan forced himself to move slowly and quietly back to the window. As he lifted himself to the sill, he heard a sound that nearly petrified him. It was subtle and soft at first, then grew with each passing fraction of a moment. The hilt of Casimir’s sword was sliding across the wall, leaving its point of imperfect balance. In another fraction of a moment the sword, scabbard, and medallion would crash to the floor, and Casimir would be instantly on his feet.
    Duncan thrust himself out of the window and onto the sill as a startled cry and the brilliant crash of steel filled the room with noise that seemed louder than thunder. He reached for the rope and gripped it with one hand as he swung to the side, balancing beside the window with a foot on the edge of the molding.
    Duncan heard Casimir’s sword slide from the scabbard and looked wildly about him, not knowing what to do. He could never climb the rope to the roof in time to escape Casimir, and jumping to the ground would probably break his legs. He had seen how ruthless Casimir could be in the tournament and knew nothing would stop the man from killing a would-be thief in his own room. He listened to the slow deliberate footsteps approaching the window and imagined a deadly blade preceding them.
    Desperate, Duncan readied himself to jump. But then he felt a slight tug on the rope from above. He looked up but saw only the rope bent over the edge of the roofline. Had he imagined the tug?
    Hoping against all odds, he reached up and grabbed the rope tightly with both hands. He lifted himself off the sill and then was whisked up and