LVIII. They walked for a day and a night by the edge of the wood. When the sun was gone, sir Frann could not sleep, and Elbracht kept his eyes wide and keen for if wolves came about them. But in the eerie silence of the night naught was heard but the hoot of owls, the whisper of the wind and the crackle of the trees which prompted nightmares in their dreams. Passed the day, they hit the road. Although back in Corfáir they had agreed that they would make a stop in Bocra to get new provisions, the plan had changed and now they could not risk more days traveling south to then go north, so they decided to follow the road by foot.

The day was cold, the night was unforgiven, and they no longer had mister Ceolf to raise their spirits, but there aim had never been clearer. Though sir Frann wished only to turn Carédock back to the cloister, Elbracht worried that his brother might become too dangerous for himself. In his mind the quest was changed and it was no longer his mission just to bring him back to Ceor, but also to keep him from bringing harm upon himself and others. He knew his brother’s heart and battles were all he craved for. Now, he would do anything to make Carédock resist the temptation of the sword. Elbracht remembered Carédock’s words from when he paid him a visit in the King’s Pound ‘I almost did it, brother, I almost did it… for you’ and trembled at the thought that he would put his hands to the fire again for him. But what grounds he could this time have to wreak havoc upon the realm he did not know.

After two days of trudge, they came to the Oenic Glade, there the lane turned from mud to stone for much of the thoroughfare had been paved of new and it was often watched over by guards, so the walk was easier and paced. Many were the farers from the north that passed by them and on their faces there was sorrow and sadness, some wept, most were in mourn. Come the noon of the second day, a throng of guards rode by them and their captain recognised the face of his lord among the travellers on the road.

-“Hail, Elbracht, son of Elreck, Lord of Keor,” he said and behind him all his men halted and revered their lord. “The name is Gulcan, m’lord, at your service.”

-“Greetings to you, watchman Gulcan” answered Elbracht “What is the mood of your men?”

-“Your men, m’lord” said the captain, “As for their mood, well we can’t decide if we should be either as gloomy as the farers, or merry that a former rival has passed.”

-“What is your meaning, watchman?” asked Elbracht bewildered.

-“Hasn’t the news reached Keor yet, m’lord?” said Gulcan, “I fear I may not be noble enough to tell you, but I will be honoured to be the first to make it known to you. A great grief has befallen upon the travellers from Thindur, for Lord Hadril the Slimmer Griffin is no more. This we have heard from the mouth of pilgrims and traders alike that the lord Sovarós and his family have perished of late.”

A heavy darkness fell upon Elbracht’s shoulders and he grieved at the news that Death had taken lord Hadril, his wife and daughter to whom he would have been married if he had not been so quick to dismiss her. But the lord of Ceor kept his bearing.

-“May they not linger long in the Abyss and pass soon to the halls of Adda.” he said with sorrow in his voice, “How has this come to be? They were well and wilful when they left Keor.”

-“That I cannot tell you,” Gulcan answered, “for fresh is the wind that has blown the news hither. All what people say is that they have passed away and since you mourn their death, we also share in your lament, m’lord. But as I said I am at your service, and be it that you will that we guard you on the road or help you in your quest, our shields and swords are yours.”

-“Our business are our own, good watchmen, keep your swords and shields for the road.” Elbracht said thankfully, “But our path is long and many days of journey lie still ahead, so if you had any mounts to spare, my company and I are in need of horses.”

-“If that you ask, m’lord, that you’ll have” the watchman said “And our prayers and blessings also.”

Then three guards gave up their mounts for Elbracht and his fellowship. They thanked them and began their ride north. A day passed and they began to descry hints of frost on the slopes and fields. Ever colder grew the wind, the heavens wept frozen tears, and further on the path snow crowned the slopes and summits of hills afar. As the landscape turned whiter they began to see more and more travellers on their way south and the whine of their lament was in the air. Out of respect and in need of time they left them to their mourning but the way grew only the sorrier. In his heart Elbracht guessed that the Black Knight had something to do with the deaths of lord Hadril and his family, for his brother had also been poisoned by the same hate their father professed towards the Sovarós. Fearing the worse, lord Elbracht determined that he should dwell on the matter and travel to Fyore to uncover the truth by himself.

Another day passed and they left behind the glade. Before them a large reach opened to the eye. The snow lengthened up and down the wolds. There the land was grey and white and, though now tamed by winter, it seemed that it had long been the dwelling of many folks from before the reckoning of years. There were many small hamlets seen here and there along the road like grain strewed on the ground. Come the night, they reached the top of a hill and from there it seemed the stars were mirrored on the wide country upon the crests and troughs of frosty slopes like still waves in a frozen sea. They had come to the kingdom of Thindur, the realm that was of old the homeland of the tribe of Jomáh, highest among the houses of the Aredans long before the crowning of the first man. The people that came and went faring through those parts had a name for those lands; the Graythland, they called it, the Dominion of the Griffins*(1). Nevertheless, now that bird was headless and a shadow was cast on the grieving hearts of all under its wings.

The people that lingered there were tall and brave and with the passing of every age, hoarding fame and renown among their names, the Graythmen grew boastful and they looked down to the other tribes of their race, but their pride had dwindled of late with the death of their lord and his family, to who they had pledged their greatness and now there was sadness in their eyes. The loss of the Slimmer Griffin had left a hole in their hearts that few among his blood, even the least remote, could fill out.

As they rode on, the path hid beneath a white carpet, and the sun rose behind thick clouds, glowing pale high over shades dark as blue embers that smouldered far above the eyes. On the first day of the new year—three days since they left the road—, beyond the road where two hill-sides met and a great river pierced through the gap, lay a city or rather a stack of cities mustered from north, east, west and south in a joint middle. From afar it appeared so large that it seemed that layers upon layers of tall houses and towers of red tiled roofs overlapped each other, scraping the heavens like a bloody hand reaching the skies. And yonder still to the east, stood a huge colossus upon an eminence commanding the skies, hewn in the likeness of Old King Aurio, whose eyes were fixed on the city, like a great guardian of stone that watched over the fields and meadows grey and cold. A breath of holiness stroked its many roofs from the north, and a single beam of light was set upon it. Yet, sadness shrouded the city, sorrow was in the air and many laments were sung as they approached.

-“At last we are come to the city of Fyore,” said Elbracht, “the ancient house of Adein, the first city of man, the last dwelling of Hefehlon, the eyrie of the Sovarós, and many more names this place is called by both friend and foe. Keep your eyes keen, mentor, and make sure to raise high the king’s sigil, sir Frann, for long has it been since I have been welcome here, and in my father’s war I was named conqueror of this city, and though no blood was shed by my sword—or, indeed, by any on my behest—I doubt, the people of Fyore may see me with merry eyes, at this grave hour. Forth we go now!”

And on they rode to the city walls, Elbracht cast his cape upon his head as a hood so none could put a name to his face, and since they waved the king’s banner the sentries did not waver to let them pass. They entered through the southern gate. Inside, homes were seen scattered on snowy fields engirdled by the mighty walls of Fyore. The way from there to the the forum began wide, but soon, the streets narrowed to alleys and then to slums and many houses were built on top of the ruins of foregone abodes where many had lived in times past, for the city was old, older than the memory of its eldest dwellers and still the ghosts of the first men lingered there, coming and going through paths forlorn that few maps now show.

They crossed the river Mirn through a bridge upon which sides hung dwellings that embraced each other with arches like sturdy arms all along the roadway. Before long, they came to the forum, where many paths met, enclosed by high pillars capped with idols of heroes and lords proud and fair, and taller still behind them great buildings and towers were raised that dared the winds like mountains mighty and brave. Yet, among them, highest and greatest was the First Temple, a monstrous dome of bronze and limestone that rose from amidst the red roofs and belfries of Fyore like a huge crown of majesty and awe. Quivering at that giant structure, Elbracht saw, it birthed a path that merged with all others, and countless myths and legends were bound to it, for it was the Road of Oenys—which most now called the King’s Road—and it stretched thence all the way north to the capital. In the lore of the High Men, that path was made upon the march of old King Belyus, which trek led the armies of man to Culgarost to overthrow the Ennard masters in days of yore. And yet none but them were there to admire that ancient monument, for all were in church mourning the name of their dead lord.

Amidst the quietness a throng of guards approached them and their looks were stern, their brows were frowned, their colours were scarlet but their sigil was black and passant, and not the rampant golden griffin of the Sovarós. They saw sir Frann bearing the king’s banner but paid no respect to the king’s man or the Hazagodian that travelled with them or their strapping leader whose hooded face only raised concern among them.

-“Who are ye, who come at this grieving hour and what tides bring you hither? Are ye friend or foe?” asked the captain. “By the looks of it ye must be outlanders either from Culgarost or from the far south beyond the sea.”

-“Greetings, noble watchman” Elbracht said, “I am Elbracht, son of Elreck, lord of Keor, and these men are my fellowship, sir Frann of Velour, the King’s Herald, and my well-beloved mentor, Asadue of Thardys; we come from Harador and we wish to pay our respects to your lord, as the news have come to us that he has passed of late. Our thoughts and prayers are with you.”

-“Our liege is sound and well,” the captain said “Carathuel, son of Adyén, is lord now, you may pay him homage. But, keep your thoughts and prayers for the dead. Follow us now; we will lead you to him.”

Elbracht remembered the name of the man whereof he spoke, but was flustered by the lack of courtesy in his manners. Something was odd in his speech, for though he and his men spoke the common tongue their jargon was of the north and missed the soothing tone of the men of Fyore. And there was no sadness on their faces for the Slimmer Griffin’s loss. Despite his doubts, Elbracht and his fellowship followed them to the northern half of the city. There the path was wide unlike the slums they had seen before, it went gently up the hill and all about them were noble trees that dreamt of summer. Along the way the houses around them turned to mansions and banners were hung from white masts topped by braziers and lamps.

Shortly, they came to the Arost, the highest district of the city, where the wealthy and powerful dwelt. Further up the path, they saw a broad place, where high temples and shrines were built in the memory of both gods and heroes of elder lore, there stood lonely a lofty statue of King Aurio, tall and fearsome against the breath of the north and yet not as huge as the Colossus outside the walls. Behind the likeness of that olden king, arose loftier still a large castle from among the temples amid which it lay. Its towers white and grey, like spears that stabbed the heavens with might, stared back at them with terrible dread. Nysdorth was the name of that castle, but among the Graythmen it was called ‘Gryphnest’, the ancient eyrie of the Sovarós. They passed to the inner bailey, a lavish courtyard embellished by golden trinkets and buttresses from which hung gargoyles of rampant griffins, and many flags were streamed from pinnacles and spires soaring boastfully beyond the mist.

Elbracht and his fellowship dismounted their horses and came to the great hall of the castle. There the air was heavy, and from tall windows on the walls only a dim, pale light beamed in like milk that leaked out from the crack of a glass and mirrored on the marbled floor clear as water. They walked passed great pillars on which stone-flesh flowers were carved intertwined with mighty names of yore. And from the vaults of that ancient hall standards were hung of a black griffin on a scarlet field. Asadue knew that was not the emblem of the Sovarós, but rather of the forsaken branch to which the sires of Carathuel belonged. There some party had gathered and all wore black raiments yet not of mourning, but richly bedizened by scarlet accents like blood spilled on their clothes. At the end of the hall, much like in the manner of his high chair back in Ceor, was a dais beneath the shadow of huge statue of a rampant griffin, his claws were red, his feathers were yellow, and his wings were spread across the hall. On the throne sat lord Carathuel, the Black Griffin, strong and fair, his hairs were matt black, his skin was pale, on his head he wore Hadril’s circlet and his eyes were deep and grey swallowed by darkness, yet no grief was in them, as if he were thankful for the latest doom of his kindred. By his side was the lady Aléndra, his wife, she was tall and svelte, blond was her hair, and her face was veiled by a shroud of sadness, for she was the youngest daughter of king Elorio III, the Unfortunate, and at the passing of her brother, lord Hadril, and his family, much of her joy forsook her, yet she remained quiet and did not dare to speak when she stood by the side of her husband and lord.

As lord Carathuel saw that Elbracht was among the three travellers, his men had brought to him, he recognised him right away and was glad to see him again, for he remembered him from the siege of Fyore and then they found, they had much in common. Eerily gay, he rose from his chair to greet him. His voice was rumbling, his tongue was cunning and his speech was proud.

-“Greetings, Elbracht, son of Elreck” he said, “you come in the sorriest of hours and yet your presence is most welcome. What tides bring you to my city on this day?”

-“Hail, Carathuel, son of Adyén” he replied, “the fates must be cruel to send your late lord to the abyss, but in their fall you have risen. I hope you keep his throne with the same dignity and honour as did lord Hadril and his sires of old. As for our errand, we come to pay our respect for the dead, yet you seem untroubled by their demise.”

-“Alas, the passing of my kinsmen cuts deep in the heart, but the lord of Fyore must remain strong in the face of sorrow. You more than most know this, for kings and lords restrain both lament and fear in the darkest of hours, as you have done, yourself, in the wake of your father’s death. And yet, you do not suppose I will believe that grief alone has brought you hither. I see the king’s herald fares with you, so I can only guess that a task is at hand. If this be the king’s will, whatsoever it might be, my service and my men are at your disposal.”

-“You have our gratitude, my lord,” Elbracht said, “but though your intent may be noble, it shall not be needed. Our quest is to find the scoundrel that has come to be known as the Black Knight and bring him to the king’s justice, and we will deliver. But this we must undertake alone.” Elbracht was puzzled by what he had just said, for he wished to keep their business to himself, yet something within him forbade him to keep the task at hand from the light of truth.

-“Aye, I know of whom you speak, the Black Knight has become of late a threat to the king’s peace, and if rumours are to be believed, his tongue is sharp and he inspires lies and dread in the hearts of men, much strife has he sown and the roads are no longer safe. I respect your courage, my lord,” said Carathuel, “if you wish to tackle this rogue on your own, I will not stand on your way, but should you need our aid, the lord of Fyore will be pleased to help you in this quest. You only need ask. For the time being, I bid you to stay and replenish your strength. Take all the time you need. Eat at my table, rest in my halls, and when you wish to go on with your errand, I will set up a company of my bravest men to guard you on the road.”

And so Elbracht and fellowship were taken under the wings of the Black Griffin. They dined at his table, they slept under his roof, and yet they found, food had little taste, and dreams owed them no rest, for in Fyore the days were brief, the nights were long, and to Elbracht it seemed that the air was thick and cold, not fresh and fair like it had been of old. Outside the castle, rooks squawked, crows croaked, the heavens wept and the shroud of sadness grew into a sorry haze that mantled the streets dark and grey. In the morning of the second day, lord Carathuel led Elbracht down to pay his respect and say his farewells to the lord Hadril and his family, who in life, he deemed he had wronged.

They walked down from the Arost, to the First Temple in the city forum. For the first time since they came to Fyore, Elbracht saw the square filled with crowds, many had stood there for hours other just came and went carrying on with their daily business, yet there was a great quietness and all turned their faces to the dome, praying silently for the souls of their late lord. In the forum, there was only the wind to hear filled with whispers of sorrow and a great cloud was bent on them, under which shadow people wept and sobbed. As they entered the temple, venturing into a solemn darkness, the lament of the faithful echoed on the walls, like a chant of ghosts that lingered there since elder days, mourning in the shadows.

Inside, they came to a huge chamber, where many priest were gathered, their tall hoods were black, their cloths were sable, and, under the subtle light of candles and sconces, they looked like vultures dark and dreadful ready to feast on the dead. On windowless walls scenes were carved of sagas old, and pilasters fashioned after the semblance of powerful idols and gods. They were broad and strong and rose to the soaring top of the dome in arches, engirdling a round hole in the coffered vault, whence a single ray of light descended with grace from the ceiling and rested on the bodies of lord Hadril, his wife, brothers and daughter. They were laid upon lofty plinths many steps high and from up there, they seemed like proud statues, unmoved by fear or dismay. In death, they had the likeness of awe and honour that all their sires and forefathers held in life, yet they were fast asleep, dwelling on deadly dreams, from which no man can be woken, lest the world be unmade and forged anew or their souls be restored to their bodies by godly wonder.

Lord Carathuel bid the Numéres to leave, and in their solitude, Elbracht looked at the faces laid there, mantled with banners of red and gold. First, he stood before the body of lord Hardril, his face was still, his mouth was sealed and yet, from beyond death, he spoke of things that were hidden to him. Second, he mourned his wife, lady Arlys, now her hairs were set free from her wimple and to his amazement; he discovered that she was black of hair, for until then it was unknown to him that she had been a kinswoman to lord Carathuel. Last, he laid his eyes open the lady Alyse, her guise was fair, her curls were blond and, even in the end; there was courage in her face.

-“The Bravegriff,” he said “after her demise, she still stares daring at the face of death. It is a sorry thing to say, but even now I am glad, I did not get to wed her. Ere our wedding, lord Hadril invited me to go with him to Nalas to celebrate Elsarmas along with the family. Had fortunes not been changed, I might have met the same end. Yet I remorse not letting her inside my heart and I scorn myself for not behaving towards her with due respect.” he lit a candle at the foot of her plinth and said a prayer for her. “May you not dwell long in the abyss, and find peace in the Halls of Adda. Your sword shall be kept sharp; your shield shall remain whole. No man will take them up for you, but in the memory of their mighty wielder, your name shall be held true. Farewell, young Bravegriff. Farewell, my beloved, Crus’duinessé.”

-“It pains me that she would die so young. Many songs were written of her beauty and all who set their eyes on her, said she’d be the future of the House, for she was the mightiest among the Sovarós, and the spirit of the griffin was strong in her. Farewell, dear cousin.” Said lord Carathuel.

They both said a prayer and pondered in silent thought for a while, until Elbracht noticed no else was there but them two, so fearing no longer he dared ask,

-“Now, that we are alone, my lord” he said, “Will you care to tell me how this came to be? I know lord Hadril was a proud man, but he kept his kingdom strong, and people loved him, even after his death they still do. On my way here, all travellers that fared the road hither had great sadness in their eyes and even now weeks after his passing, many are gathered outside this temple, their thoughts and prayers are bent on him and his family. So much sorrow in his mourning can only mean there was great gladness in his life.”

-“Aye, my cousin was loved by many, especially by those close to home. He proved to rule better as lord than his father, Elorio III, ever did as king. He was just and wise, in summer he was thriving, in winter he was reassuring, when days were bright there was bliss and joy in his halls, and when nights were long and cold his heart warmed his subjects as a beacon of certainty amidst a tempest of doubt. I hope to carry on his legacy with honour and face peril with likewise strength. But, do not think he was esteemed by all. In his pride he was too blind to see that there were some in his kingdom that had nothing but disdain for him.

“In the South he was adored, but north from Fyore some still live that despised his rule. The people from Helixy, Wiex, and even my beloved Bredda thought of him a weak man that did all what he was bid by the King and Neldor, and did not honour the memory of the men of old. You met some of them in the Capital as rumours have it. The ones they called the Fanatics, they did not perish in Culgarost, but their message has been spread across the realm and now some have picked up their torch and rebel against the Great Lords in their pursue to befree the Realm of Men from the clutches of the Order. And news says they have found a leader in the one they called the Black Knight. Ever since, they only seem to grow in number and they threaten all who profess alliance to the White Tower.

“My councillors and I deem that some of these Fanatics have found their way south and since lord Hadril and the House had always been verily loyal to Neldor, it can only be guessed that their message has polluted the mind and turn the hearts of some against their lord. Over a week ago, lord Hadril, his wife, his daughter and all other heirs to his name and title made their way to Nalas, they travelled by the northern edge of the Oenic Forest and on the fourth day of their journey, in the cover of night, they were butchered by a horde of bandits that hid in the woods, all were slaughtered, none was spared and now their corpses lie here, dreaming before their parting of the steel that slayed them.

“Should this be true, then the Black Knight was surely involved in their murder. I hope you can now understand my willingness to join your quest. Let me aid you in your journey, so together we may avenge the fall of my kinsmen.”

Elbracht dwelt long on the thought and struggled to believe his brother, ‘the Black knight’, was guilty of such a deed. He thought, he knew his brother’s heart, but that he should lower himself to slaughter an entire family in cold blood; that he could not fathom. Yet something ached in his soul, his sword burnt him from within its sheath, and, though his telling was quite compelling, he discerned that something was odd in his speech, as if his account on the matter was filled with deceit. But lord Carathuel spoke to him again and broke his chain of thought.

-“So what say you, my lord?” he said, “Will you heed my plea and take my help, now that you know to truth of their doom?”

‘Truth’, Elbracht thought, as if the mention of that word had echoed in the halls of his soul, and he knew that much of his story was untrue, and that he had just been caught in a web of lies, which tangles had only the semblance of truth, yet poisoned and twisted by a spider, whose sly eyes were clouded by a shroud of kindness and whose mouth was filled with deceit. Elbracht looked long at him, but found no words to say that might be soothing for him and he did not trust his mouth to conceal from him what he had thought. He stood there in silence until Carathuel, cunning as ever, spoke again.

-“I understand if you wish to carry this task alone.” he said “Much renown you may gain in doing the King’s bidding on your own. I will not restrain your pursuit of glory.” At hearing this, Elbracht only nodded and still he dared not speak. “But if you won’t let me aid you in your quest, I may be of help in other ways. Of old our two houses had a bond stronger than brothership. For hundreds of years the ancient league of our two kingdoms brought much wealth and strength to our forebearers. Of late, this bond has been shattered by the shift of fates and the war lord Elreck started, and yet I do not blame you for the sins of your father, nor do I reproach you for the change of heart that kept you from marrying my niece, the lady Alyse.

“In spite of all that has come to happen, I wish to rekindle our friendship once more. Let us restore our league of old, and usher in a new era of amity between Harador and Thindur. You will find that our hearts are the same on many regards and that we have much in common in matters of the mind. Like you, I have no love for the White Tower and should you ever seek to sit upon the highest chair of the realm, you will have an ally in me.”

Elbracht startled at the prospect of that alliance, for long he had craved to hear from the mouth of the late Hadril the words, lord Carathuel had just uttered. But, he could no longer trust his tongue and a light flickered red within his eyes sly and clever, like the look of a snake. And yet he felt his words were sincere. Summoning all the strength he had left, he dared to speak.

-“Your words gladden me, my lord,” he replied “but I do not long for the Throne of Men. I only wish to do what is right for my people. However, I would be lying if I said; my heart did not yearn to hear what you have said. Since I ascended my father’s throne, only the amity of the Sovarós have I sought. If you mean what you say, then you may also count with an ally in me.”

-“I do” Carathuel said, “Let our bond be stronger in creed than it ever would have been in blood. But should your mind change and our King perish, know, that I pledge my vote and allegiance to you.” He bowed his head to him and spoke no more.

They left the temple and had luncheon in the castle, lady Aléndra was there with them, and yet she was quiet as stone. Lord Carathuel spoke for her, but whereof they talked Asadue did not trust to paper and ink in his journals. Come the evening, all nobles from the court of Thindur were gathered in the in the forum, lord Elbracht, his mentor and the king’s Herald were invited. They returned to the First Temple for the funeral of the late lord and there a great mass was held. Chants were sung, sermons were told, and all prayed with one voice for the souls of the Sovarós.

When the service was over, the nobles queued behind the lord Hadril, lady Arlys and their heirs. At the front some knights carried their bodies in fancy litters, they were shrouded to the neck with sheets of linen, red and gold, and some bore torches about them, and their star-wise flames fluttered in the chilly breeze of night. Behind the corpses walked lord Carathuel and his wife, they were followed by their sons, Caeroth and Carathos, and further back were lord Tyén of Myrlost, his wife and children, the few that remained of the Griffin’s line. So they began a mourning march across the streets and alleys of Fyore. They all wore black clothes and walked in sombre mood with the light of candles like yellow roses glowing in their hands. Through and through they marched beneath the moon’s mantle and they came to a great crypt by the river Mirn, in which undercroft the bones of many lords were housed. They buried them with dignity and a solemn song was crooned that evoked the memory of forenames long passed in the tongue that they had known.

Hrigos, umbros ehnēth

Hildoré sēpulom.

Grema, muska crehēth

Uper óp carnulom.

Hwogos lugerē nomen

Ehíus drocasculpáto.

Cādar, chron wehēthe

Cors volwāth cindere,

Tám tílos memoēthe

Prúz mennēth carmerēn.

Hwogos lugerē nomen

Ehíus drocasculpáto.

This song in the common tongue is often rephrased into more modern verses that still to these days are sung in the mourning and burials of high lords and thengs of Thindur:

Cold and dark, the tomb of man,

Where grows moss and grass.

His name is carved on stone so cold,

That none can read and few behold.

The world doth weary, time doth age,

His corpse’s now but a pile of sage.

Though ashes now, his spirit lives,

In tales of old that time forgives.

His name is carved on stone so cold,

That none can read and few behold.

When their bodies were laid and cased in stone, the lords met by the river bank, and there a lavish barge was set loose from the dock that streamed proud and fair the banners of the Sovarós and upon it was set a lonesome stone fashioned in the likeness of lord Hadril. As the barge glided down the Mirn, the whole of Fyore gathered along the levees, left and right, bearing candles that glimmered gold in the dark. All wept and whined, their tears flowed on with the current and the song crooned on in the wind, until no words were left to sing, and the sound faded, humming ever softer into silence.

Asadue noted that he had never seen the Graythmen humble their souls in such a sorry mood. At seeing such a piety and love towards lord Hadril in the eyes of that proud folk, Elbracht was moved and he almost welled into tears. Lord Carathuel was stern, and neither grief nor sorrow was in his face. He stood silently in thought amidst a sea of laments and yet his wife was overcome by woe. Thereupon they met in castle where a large banquet was held, but few had a taste for food. Most starred at the meals with ashen mouths and wan hearts, while the Black Griffin and those closest to him ate and drank with greed and thirst, while lady Aléndra stood still in repulsion, her mouth was shut, her eyes were swallowed black by so much wailing and a cloud of sorrow was about her which brast into a rain of rage.

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-“How can you feast at this gloomy hour?” she was heard saying.

-“Good food has been served,” her husband answered, “It’d be a pity to let it waste.”

At hearing this, the noble lady stormed out of the hall and all heeded the fuss, but then lord Carathuel rose from his chair, cup in hand, proud in bearing.

-“A toast, my lords,” he said, and everyone stood raising their drinks high, “In the lore of our faith, it is said that Adda made man mortal, so his souls might not wither in the garden of life, which without death, is but a torment to the heart. With that in mind, let us drink to the memory of Hadril the Proud and bid him farewell. May the Slimmer Griffin soar his wings high and dwell not long in the Sea of the Dead*(2) and pass with gladness to the halls of his sires. Crus’duinessé, lord Hadril of Fyore, for thee we mourn!”

When the feast was over and all were sated, the young lord met with his mentor in his chambers. He found him writing down in detail all whereof you have read until now. He set his quill aside, and saw the face of his pupil. It was pale and sad, and yet no grief was in him, his eyes were worried, his hands were fret.

-“What troubles you, my pupil?” he said, “has the ghost of your father come to you again?”

-“Nay, I have seen no wraith,” Elbracht answered, “but I have been caught in a spider’s web. You have seen what happened at the banquet today, and if your eyes are as keen as mine, you must have noticed there was no grief in his face. I fear lord Carathuel has not been very honest to us since we came.”

-“You are weary and tired, my pupil” the mentor said, “it has been a sad day, and the heart oft dupes the mind amid such sorrow and pain. But remember what lord Carathuel said. ‘Kings and lords restrain both lament and fear in the darkest of hours’; he must put on a stern look in the face of sadness even if behind the mask, his soul wails.”

-“So far, unly his words he has masked,” Elbracht replied, “it is neither lordly nor noble to keep oneself from tears only to later ravish meals and ale, whereas all his country weeps and keens over the dead.”

-“That might be true,” Asadue said “but so far he has been very kind to us, and over and over again, he has offered us his help in our quest. He cares deeply about the realm, he is wise of tongue and though grim at times, he has shown to treat the dead with respect and honours their memory with dignity. Yes, he might have been hungry, and forgot for a moment the mood of his court and subjects, but this reason alone is not enough to believe he is not been sincere.”

-“I guess you are right,” Elbracht answered, “He does give the impression of a good ruler, a just lord and kind host. And he is hopeful. When I paid my respects to lord Hadril and his family earlier today, much we discussed about legacy and friendship. He seems to have delved deep into my heart, for he swore he would strive to restore our league of old. I admit, I was glad to hear that, and I am positive that with him by our side a new alliance can be verily forged between Keor and Fyore.

“And yet, as he told me of the fall of lord Hadril and the manner in which he met his doom, something ached within me, and what is more, my sword burnt from inside its sheath, as if warning me to be wary of what I heard. He spoke of the Fanatics we encounter in the capital, and that their message had spread across Thindur, poisoning the minds of the Graythmen, he then mentioned the Black Knight, and that he is seen as a leader among the rogues, I sensed no lies there, but then he told me how lord Hadril and his family were ambushed by bandits on the way to Nalas, and that he deemed these bandits had ties to the Fanatics, and as I heard this, I knew there was deceit his speech, like ashes on his tongue and a flickering red flame beneath his brows. Then I remembered what the dwarf-lord told me. He said this sword will be like a torch in the dark that will help me discern what has been hidden from me and unshroud the veil of lies.”

-“But, Elbracht, my pupil” his mentor said, “You speak of spells and charms. I have seen the magic of the dwarves first hand, but who is to say he is not been lied to, himself, and he merely tells you what has been reported back to him?”

-“In my mind, I wished to think that too,” said Elbracht “But it was not like that; the sword persisted, smarting ever hotter by my side. I knew it, mentor. It sounds odd, but I knew somehow that lord Carathuel was aware whereof he spoke, and still, it was as if he intended to bury the truth beneath a web of lies, and if not lies then twisted truths that served only him. So, I have reasons to believe, it wasn’t bandits alone that killed the Sovarós, lord Carathuel must have been involved.”

Asadue startled at him for a moment, he knew his pupil well enough to tell when he was being dishonest, and there was no guile in his eyes. He was not loth to speak his mind and much anguish was about him, as if trapped by the tangles of a foe, he had thought his friend.

-“Listen to me, Elbracht,” Asadue said, “You must not speak of it. Not while we remain here. For no one will be believe you. If what you say is true, then Lord Carathuel has cared to pose as a noble theng that has taken on the legacy of his forebearers and now he has the love and respect of his people. Your words will be like venom to the ears of Fyore and the whole of Thindur will rise against you. You have no proof but the sorcery of dwarves. So, chances are better than none that you will be marked as a liar as you did with Ealdorman Corgann erewhile. Should the worst come to pass, you will burn at the stake and with you will die also the truth you have assumed. When all your brothers hear of this, wars will be fought, blood will be shed and only the gods know when the Realm will taste peace again.”

-“You are right, as always” said Elbracht, “there are things that ought to be left unspoken. I will inform sir Frann, so we can leave on the morrow. We must gather our things with haste, so we can leave this terrible place. The air is foul here, and filled with lies. I cannot bear it.”

And as Elbracht was about to leave, someone knocked at the door, and they were in doubt for it was well passed midnight and none should be woke but them. As Asadue opened the door, on the threshold there was lady Aléndra. Her face was bleak; her cheeks were wet with tears and dread was in her eyes.

-“My lady, pray come in.” Asadue said, “It is too late for you to wander in the gloom of night.”

-“Aye, it is dark and late,” she said, “dark for a hostess to be in the rooms of her guests, but it is never late to tell the truth. I followed lord Elbracht and saw him come to you. I might have dropped an ear to what you spoke, for that I am sorry. But I must speak to your master.”

-“I am no one’s master,” Elbracht said from behind the door now greeting the lady, “Asadue is a free man, for no chain but love binds him to me.”

-“I beg your pardon, my lord.” she said “I should have known better, for news of your passion for freedoms have travelled even to Fyore. I hope you can forgive one who has been chained to her husband. I meant no offense.”

-“None has been taken.” Elbracht answered, “Please have a seat, my lady.”

She sat by a corner where shadows were strong, she was lost in thought and memory. Asadue sensed the fright in her heart and knew she was hesitant to speak without the leave of her lord. But Elbracht stooped down to her and fighting off her anguish, he spoke in a soothing voice.

-“Don’t be afraid, my lady,” he said, “You may speak freely; your husband needn’t know you have come to us.”

-“Y...you don’t know him, my lord, not as well as I do.” She stuttered, “He hides behind a kind cloak, but bare he is a spiteful man that knows his way around truth and is skilled to bend it for his own designs. I have learnt to live in fear of him and only darkness cares to heed me. In this castle, he has ears everywhere, so shadows have become my only friend. But there is still some courage left in me, the Golden Griffin is not yet dead, its blood runs thick in my veins.

“I know not whereof you spoke, but do not let beguile you with his words. Lord Carathuel is not true of speech. If you have a mind behind all that muscle and grace, you will know that he calms with the mouth, while in his hands he grasps a dagger sharp and ready to thrust into the heart when the moment is right. I trust, he has promised you friendship—he has been talking much about alliances and bonds to strengthen his claim to my brother’s throne—yet his venom is sweet and many have fallen already to the power of his voice...” Lady Aléndra stopped and dwelt a while in her thoughts and wrestled with herself to master her tongue. Then, she spoke again.

-“Nearly two weeks ago, there was some discord in court. Lord Hadril had just arrived from Keor and he was angry as he was displeased that you had insulted the lady Alyse to her face. He said the marriage was called off, and that you had fallen for some fair maiden of the north. Yet, he was glad that he could leave all his worries behind for it was the eve of Elsarmas and soon he would travel to Nalas. After two days, he and his family were getting ready to begin their journey east. It has long been the custom of my house to celebrate the last holidays of the year in Nalas. Alas, here is something you did not know; lord Carathuel and I were also supposed to have made that same journey.

“The tradition belongs not just to the ruling Sovarós but to all of the Griffin’s blood; lord Tyén and his wife and sons were already waiting for us in Nalas. But my husband did not wish to set off on that trip, something dark dwelt in his mind, and his heart I could not read, for he would not speak to me until lord Hadril had departed from Fyore. So we stayed, and as soon as my brother set forth hence, Carathuel began to work in the shadows and he hid his eyes from the sight of all until the worst came to pass and the watchmen on the road brought hither the corpses of lord Hadril, of lady Arlys, of lady Eōlin, of sir Anio, of sir Carth and of my dearest niece, the brave Alyse. My soul wept, my heart grimmed, and a great deal of my joy parted from me. I dare say I will never walk in gladness again. I shut my eyes and I see their faces…”

Lady Aléndra let the weight of it all fall on her again, and she sobbed and snivelled quietly as if trying to bury deep down within her grief, but she could hold it no more, she raised her eyes to the young lord and said, “They were my brothers and sisters. They were my blood! And I know he has taken them away from me! While I wailed and cried he was glad and wasted no time in grabbing my brother’s crown off from his dead hands. He made his men shout ‘The Slimmer Griffin hath passed, the Golden Bird is no more, long live the Black!’ And thereupon many banners were hung inside and others were raised high to stream outside, for the city to know that Fyore had a new lord.

“I cannot prove it to you, but I know this to be true. He had no love for any of my siblings and married me only to be close to power. Nevertheless, his joy did not hold long, for one went missing among the dead, my brother, sir Antuel. My husband declaired him dead along the others, and yet I know he is alive. I feel it in my heart that his is still beating. You owe no debt to me, noble lord, but if you find the mercy within you, hark my plea! Please, find my brother, please find him. He is the last of my father’s sons. He is the rightful heir to Fyore. If you feel you have wrong us in any way either for sieging this city or insulting my niece, I urge you to find him before he does. Please, please!”

Elbracht looked long at her, and he found her words to be true, truer than sun or air, truer than grief or joy. To Asadue’s astonishment, he saw his pupil bow down to her; he gently held her hand, softly kissed it and said onto her.

-“My noble lady, I swear it” he said and lady Aléndra whined, “I swear to you I will find your brother and keep him safe. I may not be strong enough to restore his name and sit him on his rightful throne. Yet I may keep him from harm. Now you must rest, and pray that I should find him sound and well.” Then he rose but she crouched down to him and kissed his feet with gratitude.

-“Arise, my fair lady.” he said, “do not humble, yourself, like this to any man, but the gods and king. I may not release you from your chains, but to me you are a free woman, and a brave daughter of the Sovarós, the tall and proud griff. Likewise, keep your head tall and proud, and have no pity for the dead, but for those who live and deserve it. Do this and the Golden Bird will be kept alive, do this and you will honour your sires, do this and the memory of your house will not die.”

Presently he kissed her hands once more and bid her farewell. As the lady left his chambers Asadue could not remove his eyes from Elbracht. And then he spoke.

-“You see, mentor,” said Elbracht, “Lady Aléndra has felt also what I have guessed. The sword has shown me what has been hidden. And you can’t deny her saying is quite convincing. Lord Carathuel is not what he seems.”

-“I agree, my pupil” said Asadue, “but should you speak against lord Carathuel, she will not dare to stand by your side. Her heart is troubled by fear. But will you honour your pledge to her, even when another quest is at hand?”

-“I will do my best to keep my word,” Elbracht answered, “yet, to find the Black Knight is my task, a dire trek it shall be, and I will not let this oath stand in the path of the one I have made to my mother, that I will bring my brother back to our house.”

On the morrow of the next day, Elbracht, sir Frann and Asadue met in the great hall with lord Carathuel, the whole of court was with him. He sat on his chair and was still wearing black long passed the burial of his kinsman. Lady Aléndra was by his side and a throng of tall paladins were gathered in line before him. Elbracht saw him under a new light, one pale and faint that clouded with shadows his eyes. The time of grief had passed and lord Carathuel showed his true guise, terrible and sly, yet clad with grace to hide his guile. He greeted his guests and with cunning tongue, he spoke.

-“My lord, it saddens me that you should leave us now that my rule has just begun.” said he, “But your quest is dire and perilous. So as a token of our friendship and in thanking spirit for paying us a visit at such a sorry hour, I have assembled a party of my strongest and bravest knights to guard you in this trek.” He waved his hands and the knights bowed their head to the Haradese lord.

-“These are fine warriors, my lord” answered Elbracht, “but their shields should remain in Fyore to protect their lord.” At hearing this, lord Carathuel turned stern, his brow was frowned, and then he spoke again.

-“The road is not safe, my lord,” he said, “and you’re a guest of honour in my kingdom. I applaud your courage in taking on this task alone, but I will not have you wandering about my country undefended. Will you not accept this gesture, even when much danger lies ahead of you?”

-“I cannot, my lord,” Elbracht said, “We will go beyond the road, where danger awaits us and I will not have their blood in my hands. Their swords should better be kept by your side. But the king’s herald rides with us, and he is a distinguished knight. His blade will suffice us to ward us off from threat and menace on the road.”

-“Very well,” said Carathuel now with a staid tone, “Do as you will. But I must take your word, I will not be held responsible, should you struggle or perish in your quest.”

-“You have it, my lord” Elbracht said, “but now, forth hence we must ride. Long is the path before us and the Black Knight must be quelled; the sooner, the better.” Elbracht attempted to leave in haste after saying this for he did not wish to risk to speak his mind. Much strife was within him, for he had Oakenjaw by his side, and should lord Carathuel mention anything even remotely regarding lord Hadril’s passing, he felt he would not able to hold back his tongue. But then the Black Griffin spoke again.

-“Before our parting, I have something else for you.” Lord Carathuel said approaching him, a heater shield was fetched for him and he gave it to Elbracht. In his hands it was heavy, but it was light when swung. Its face was of steel, its edge was silver, and the boss was fashioned like a griffin sprinting rampant out of the plane. The shield shimmered gold like sparkles under the dim light of the hall. And the ancient words of the Sovarós were carved upon it that read ‘Brago et Naldo’ which in the Old Tongue of Men*(3) meant Valient and Valorous. Elbracht was left speechless and Carathuel was pleased.

-“Since you want neither my help nor my protection, I will gift you this,” he said, “This shield belonged once to King Aurio the Great, and it has been an heirloom of our house ever since. It is said an old magic is caged within it that will keep your heart alight and the flame of valour burning. With this in hand, few will stand in your way without dread, but you will be feared, yourself. To part from this means a great deal to me, but I will give you this if you swear to carry out vengeance for me.” Elbracht looked at him puzzled, but he went on to say. “If you mean to kill the Black Knight, the man responsible for the death of my kin, then I ask of you only this: that you may avenge lord Hadril, his wife and children and deliver justice upon the one responsible for their demise.”

Fealing he had no other words left to say, and chaining his own fate to that oath—though at the time unbeknownst to him—he said.

-“For my honour, I swear it.” But then suddenly and without warning something raged within him, like a blaze of wrath that wished to flare out from his mouth. Oakenjaw burning him by his side ached to be unsheathed to slay and smite. Bewitched by his brand, and feeling its spell twist his heart he drew out his sword bursting with spite and slashed lord Carathuel from cheek to nose. He quickly stepped aback, but the wound was not deadly; he was still alive. And he was bewildered as he a wroth.

-“Thou hast tried to kill me!” he raged, “What in the name of the Fathers is the meaning of this?”

Elbracht looked at him with dead eyes, a light like fire gold and bright was in them and in his hands he held shield and blade with might and strength. Then he said.

-“I am fulfilling my oath.”

Then there was silence and all were unsettled and doubt filled the room. Lady Aléndra was in shock, and sir Frann and Asadue startled at him too. His blade was still and his hands, and before he dared to strike again the kinghts he had been offered before now surrounded him, but then he said onto lord Carathuel.

-“you, black crow that call yourself griff, lack of all honour” he said, “With one hand you offer kindness whilst in the other you hold a dagger. You say one thing with the mouth and with the eyes you mean another. You let grace cover you in light while in shadows you are a spider. But your shrewdness and cunning will not deceive me, for I am the bearer of truth. I have seen into your heart and I have smelled the reek of lies you have bred. Yet, I will not be entangled in your web; neither will I allow it to grow any larger.”

Then lord Elbracht spoke in a thundering voice to the whole of court.

-“Hearken now, sons and daughters of Thindur!” he said, “Lord Carathuel does not deserve your love. A spell of lies he hath cast upon you, and now you abide under his shadow. You have been lied to by this guileful crow that feasts on the corpses of your dead lord, for he hath no respect for the dead, less so he hath for the living. In his hands is the blood of the innocent, and he hath usurped the high chair of this hall wearing a crown he stole from the cold hands of the one he slayed.”

Then, all eyes passed from Elbracht unto Carathuel and there was shock in them all, but the Black Griffin kept his bearing and remained adamant. He stood as one who had been wrongly accused and all courtmen present gathered about him. For a moment it seemed that sir Frann would turn to his side too, but hesitant he stood by Elbracht’s side and drew out his sword as well.

-“You come into my house and I offered you food and shelter,” answered Carathuel with cunning speech “You walk by my side posing as a friend and ally, only to spit on my name before your parting. It is you who lack all honour. Others would have shut their doors at you, while I welcomed you and offered you my sword in your quest, but you have shown your true colours now and have elected to attribute monstrous deeds to me. You boast to be ‘the bearer of truth’, whilst your speech is full of deceit.” then he turned to sir Frann and said, “And you, sir Frann of Velour? Have you no say in this? You are a King’s Knight, yet you cower yourself behind his blade. Will you let him walk free to disturb the king’s peace with his lies? What say you?”

-“Long have I walked by his side” he answered, sharing in Elbracht’s flame, “I trust his words and mind. We have been to dark halls under ground, where only dwarves delve, and know, he wields truth in his hands. Of you I know little, but the manner of your rise is full of shadows and riddles. So, I will trust his saying, to him I have I pledged my sword, and ere our quest is fulfilled the King will know of your lies.”

-“Then, you have spoken, sir” said Carathuel, “Yet, your lies will not reach Culgarost. Your head will roll along with lord Elbracht’s, when I tell His Grace of your treachery.” He then spoke to Elbracht and the whole of his fellowship. “You have written your own doom and will answer for your proofless claims. Knights of Thindur, seize this men, bring me their swords!”

Presently, the knights engirdled Elbracht and his fellowship. Their swords and shields glimmered against their eyes as they enclosed them. The ring of steel was strong and it seemed they would not survive, but his shield set his spirit on fire and in his hand the hilt of Oakenjaw burnt with wrath. Then, the blade glew silver and said unto him secrets about his foes, not their names, but the nature of their hearts and the manner of their fight. Elbracht held Sooth tightly in his hand, ready to face any foe that came nigh.

The captain among their knights neared him and he foresaw he would strike from the right, so he dodged him. And realised his sword was on his side, and in his hands it had a mind of its own that swung to and fro before each blow. The knights charged towards Elbracht, their swords raised high. As they drew closer, he deftly parried their thwack and smites, striking back with lightning-fast counterattacks. The air was thick with the sound of clash and clang that echoed on the walls of the hall.

The battle was fierce, and the knights fought with all their might. But Elbracht was always one step ahead of them. His blade hummed with power as he blocked blow after blow, leaving his foes in awe for a moment, and then he’d smash them. Sir Frann stood beside Elbracht and defended him from other knights from behind. He deflected their blows and stroke back with blasts, knocking down several guards with a single clash. Asadue fought with daggers and he was swift and smooth in style. He moved like wind and breeze swirling and flashing around his foes only to slash them from the side. But after a while, their strength failed them, so Elbracht took the lead and defended them too against the enemy steel.

The battle raged on for what seemed like hours, with Elbracht, sir Frann, and Asadue fighting for their lives against the Black Griffin's men, until only they prevailed. They defeated all their foes, leaving a trail of fallen knights in their wake. The young lord, then set his eyes upon Carathuel and had some power left within to bring him down. But the lord of Fyore, filled with anguish, called for more guards, and before they could surround them once again, they fled the hall.

On their way out, the found some other guards gathered in the courtyard, but they quickly beat them down. Elbracht looked around for his horses but there was no time, behind them loomed ever nearer the sound of footsteps on the floor and of iron swinging to and fro, and before them there were bowmen that shot their arrows at them from the wall. Elbracht took his shield in hands and covered himself and his two companions behind his back. They ran to the gate of the castle and slipped out thence just before they were shut.

Then a horn was blown twice to alert the watchmen of the city that there had been quarrel in the castle. To escape from further trouble, Elbracht ventured into the narrow slums of Fyore, where the sun seldom shone and guards rarely made rounds. For two days Elbracht and his fellowship were on the loose, lingering in places strait and dark. The gates of the city were shut and, vigilant and wary, the watchmen patrolled the streets day and night. But the city was large, vast like woods and seas, where no faces were seen twice. So they were kept away from sight until a bounty was put on their heads, and it was only a matter of time until they were recognised.

First, Elbracht wished to flee through the river Mirn, but there were always many guards watching over the levees and docks, so sir Frann advised against it. Asadue then counselled to flee the city through the sewers underground, but the cunduits and tunnels beneath the city met by the river where the watch was high. So they hid beneath the shades of the alleys of the poorer boroughs, but even there they were not free from danger.

-“We cannot remain here,” said sir Frann, “even on the move by these dark dwellings, sooner than later we will be found. And should a wary eye find us, someone will raise the alarm.”

-“There is no where else to turn,” said Asadue, “and none will offer us shelter at this hour.”

It seemed their doom was near, until Elbracht thought of the one place where they would be safe and away from the city watch.

-“We may find refuge in the crypt” he said, “few seldom linger there and the guards dare not go thither for fear of ghosts and death. And what is more, it lies by the river, where we may wait until the guards weary of pursuing us and their watch cools down. Only then we may take the chance to escape, we can take a boat and flow down the Mirn in the cover of night.”

And so they left the darkness of the slums and went to the great crypt. It lay amidst a lake of graves that popped out from the ground like pinnacles and spikes. They took shelter in the undercroft behind the shadow of the tomb that was built of stone for lord Hadril, living off the offerings the faithful brought to the altars of their passed loved ones. There they loitered for three days until a fair visitor came on the third night, which took them by surprise. She prayed at the foot of the Slimmer Griffin’s tomb and Elbracht had a name for the gentle voice to whom it belonged.

-“Lady Aléndra?” he said, and there was fear in her eyes, for she thought the ghost of her brother called her from beyond death.

-“Fear not, sweet dame” he said again coming out from the dark, “It is I, Elbracht, son of Elreck.”

-“My lord!” she replied, “I feared you would be found. I am glad you are safe and sound. But what has brought you hither, to the resting place of my sires?”

-“We have been running from the city watch” he said, “We had no where else to go. So far, only the dead have offered us sanctuary. I hope we have not disturbed their sleep.”

-“Nay, the living cannot perturb their peace” she said, “but those who linger long among their bones and rotting flesh, may come to forget they are alive.”

-“At times like this, in circumstances such as mine, it would be better to be laid underground and find respite in the dream of death.” said Elbracht in a deep voice filled with sorrow for not having restrained his tongue in the face of lies.

-“Don’t cloud your heart with such sorry words” said lady Aléndra, “You have done what few men dare; to stand in the face of dread and peril and speak the truth bare and harsh as it is. That alone, should suffice to put your name among the heroes of lore. But you mustn’t remain here long. My husband will find you anon, and then your fate will be bound to the sword.”

-“We are aware of that, my lady” said Asadue out from the shadows, “But we cannot leave now, the watch is too high, and guards are on the alert. We intended to hide here among bone and ash for a few days until the guards grew weary of searching for us. Then we would sail a boat down the Mirn River where we can slide out of their sight.”

-“O noble stranger, you know little of the men of Fyore.” said she, “the Graythmen have a roaring spirit, and in their eyes you have wronged their new lord. So they will not tire and their hearts will not be at ease until you all are found and brought to justice. The eyes hang vigilant from the walls and towers of the city. We in Fyore know our own weaknesses and the Mirn is never out of watch; day and night the bridges and docks are garrisoned. I am afraid you will not be able to escape on your own.

“But the Gods have sent me hither today, and filled with purpose are their designs, for that we should meet here under the shadow of death is no matter of chance. This city is old, older even than the memory of the first men and of yore the tribe of Jomáh built great temples by the river banks. This crypt alone was raised upon the ruins of shrines forlorn. But there are still some who remember their layout as it was of old; I count myself among them. Follow me now.”

Lady Aléndra lit a torch and led them deeper down the lower levels of the undercroft where the light of sun was but a dream to the ghost that lingered there, and dead voices from a bygone age could still be heard as a whisper in the air. There they found a roomy crossroad, with pillars carved in the likeness of men of great might, yet whose names had been forgotten by lore or tale, and each statue linked the tresholds of many tunnels that went on for miles ever into darkness. There in the pitch-black gloom of the crypt, among the wraiths of her sires, lady Aléndra was seen under a new light, she seemed tall and proud, strong and fair, of blond hairs that escaped her wimple like rivers of gold on her breast; with fire in her hands and its yellow glow on her brow, like the rampant griffin of her house that was free of fear and defied valiantly the will of her spouse.

-“what is this place?” asked Asadue unsettled by the shadows.

-“These were of yore the halls of the first man-king.” She said, “In Elder Days when king Belyus ‘the Shepherd’ rebelled against the Elder Ones, this city became his stronghold and in here he gathered the faithful that wish to be free of the Ennard whip. Before he could assemble his great host for the Great Awakening, he was a wanted man and ever they sought for him so he could be quelled, tortured, flayed and made an example of. Thus, he hid under the shadow of Fyore and built great chambers that he took for his home. Yet in fear, they could ever come about his dwellings, he dug out long tunnels that lead hence to the outer meadows beyond the city walls, to be used should the need of flight be pending. With the passing of years these halls were forgotten but my sires remembered, so they built their sepulchre over these ruins, where at least in secrecy we could honour their memory.

“The tunnel to the left leads to the castle—this one I will take—, the tunnel in the middle goes deeper beneath the earth to delvings yet unmapped and seen only by those who are long passed. But yours is the one on the right side; it leads to the open country, from there it will be two hours to the east until you hit the road. You must go now, it is not wise to tarry here, for even in this darkness, who knows if rats and bats whisper secrets to my husband’s ear?”

-“My lady,” said Elbracht, “You have saved our lives. You have proven yourself to be a worthy daughter of your house, for even the most fearful knight lack the courage to defy a man such as your consort. I am ever in your debt. I promise you I will forget neither this mercy nor the oath I have pledged to you.”

-“You owe me nothing save that which you have already promised.” said lady Aléndra, “For you have given me back my valour and now I am free of fright. Rejoice to know that you have broken the chains of this woman, and I will no longer walk in the shadow of my husband in fear. But I shall be hopeful that brighter days are yet to come and that this sad winter soon will pass. For now, off with you, my lord. Find my brother, keep from her harm. Do this and consider this kindness paid. Farewell, Wielder of Truth. May the Four Fathers bless you, and the Four Mothers keep you!”

And so Elbracht and his fellowship passed into darkness. The tunnel was wet and it stank of the remains of hundreds of men long deceased that rotted in the shadows pursuing the light. Soon the whispers of ghosts they had heard before became a distant echo that lessened as they sunk deeper into nothingness, followed by a great silence where even their footsteps and sighs were deaf. They walked on quietly in the blackness of the tunnel for a long while, until a fell anguish took hold of Asadue that haunted him with fell visions of the past. He hissed and sputtered as if hushing away memories of sorrow and dismay. But then Elbracht stood by his side.

-“It won’t be long now, my mentor” he said onto him.

-“It’s the shadows, it’s the smell, it’s the depth of this cave!” he said wheezing in despair. “I can’t bear it. I would rather be put to the blade than go on for much further, facing this dread.”

-“It will be all right, old man” the pupil said with reassuring tone, “Hold my arm if you wish. Let me guide you through the dark. But I will not leave you behind. Come now!”

Rekindled with new hope and calmed by his pupil’s voice, Asadue carried on along the wearisome way. They delved ever deeper down where the air was ancient and filled with ashes from the making of the making of the world. Darkness loomed before their eyes, beneath the carpet of Fyore, their pace was wary and filled with worry. It seemed to Asadue that days went by walking, until their path turned slightly upwards and a dim beam of silver light was seen afar with the promise of colour and freedom.

After hours of walking among the shadows, they came out from the tunnel at last; through a crack that was hidden beneath the feat of the tall colossus of King Aurio they had seen when they set their eyes on Fyore. There the wintry sun seemed like a glowing lamp of silver from afar that lifted haze and fog, unveiling a vast country tamed by snow stretching ever up and down the wolds beyond their eyes. Asadue and sir Frann were weary; their tiresome trek in the dark had dulled much of their strengths. But Elbracht appeared unchanged, stronger even than when he came to Fyore and a mighty will was in his heart that could be seen through his eyes, like a flame of gold reborn with conviction.

-“Do you smell it, friends?” he said with his eyes fixed on rising sun, “We are free at last. Free from fear and shadows. But much peril lies still ahead.”

-“Ay!” said sir Frann, “and twice more treacherous our trek will be, now that we are wanted men. The tales of yours recklessness are sung from Culgarost to Keor. But the minstrels fall utterly short. O, Why must your tongue be so wild? Had you not defied our host and tainted his name with such vile claims, we would still be honoured guests, and a throng of guards would hold our shields on the road.”

-“You blame me of being reckless with truth,” Elbracht said “yet you seem to forget my burden, for gladly would I have kept my thoughts to myself to hinder our precarious position of new, had to me not been given the power of my sword. She would not let me abide in the shadow of lies.” Then Elbracht told sir Frann in depth of all that had come to pass and of the magic of Oakenjaw. “What once was obscure by riddles is now clear as wind and glass. King Fulgabad warned me before our parting that this sword would show me what has been hidden and would help me discern what is true from what is not. But I seem to forget that this brand is a weapon of double edge, for though few can now beguile me, the sword forces me to remain in the light of truth, meaning I am unable now to utter lies.”

-“I understand now,” said sir Frann, “I knew from the start that the witchcraft of dwarves would bring us no good. As the hour grows late, we may come to curse and regret having business with dwarves.”

-“Do not be so hasty to impart judgement, sir” said Asadue, “for king Fulgabad offered us kindness, even when the wont of his folk was against it. And he has given lord Elbracht a mighty gift that may yet be of greater help against the dread we will come to face. But this much you say is true, that we are wanted men. The Black Griffin shall not forget your insults, pupil, and ever and anon he will seek to gag your truth-bound mouth. Our heads already have a prize, yet the people of Thindur do not all know our faces, so we should forsake our names for now.

“I will keep my own, for it is not well-known by these parts, and many will rather call me stranger or outlander. You, sir Frann, may choose a name of your own, although you ought to leave the king’s banner behind, I am afraid, since not many King’s Knights wander errantly across the Graythland without names, and yours will be hard to forget.”

-“‘Tis a shameful thing to say, even for you, Hazagodian” said irked sir Frann, “I have sworn to protect the king’s sigil, I will not abandon the banner of His Grace on the grass to fray, even now that our lives are threatened.”

-“You need not forswear your oath, sir frann” said Elbracht, “But you may dispose of the rod. The banner you may wear as clothes hid beneath your cape. Your name and title, however, proud though they may be, you must leave behind.”

-“Very well, my lord” he replied, “it shall be as you say. Henceforth I will be called Hank, for it was the name of my grandsire, and should we strive against peril, I shall be proud to honour his memory in this wise.”

-“And so it shall be, master Hank” said Elbracht back to him.

-“What of you, my pupil” said Asadue, “What shall you be called?”

-“With the sword by my side, it will be hard to live under a false name. Even if I managed to hold on to one new that does not belong to me, Oakenjaw will know my heart, and before long, it will force my tongue to reveal who I am.”

Asadue pondered long in thought. He knew his pupil could not pose as a fraud with the sword in his hand and that only in truth he might abide. Then he said.

-“You needn’t dwell in falsehood, neither need you tell your birth-name.” he said, “It seems only just to call you for what you are. The lady Aléndra herself gave you a name behind which you may hide, though at the time she did not know it. You shall be called Edwald, which in the Old Tongue of Men means the ‘Wielder of Truth’, and that much is true, for you bear Sooth as a brand. So the sword will not recognise it as a lie, when you state you are called thus.”

-“Then so it shall be!” said the sword’s bearer, “I shall be Edwald, and so long I hold this sword, no man may deceive me and I shall be the Fencer of Truth whenever I face the cunning of lies in duel.”

As he uttered his new name, Oakenjaw glew again with silver shine like frost, fair and cold. And his shield glimmered gold under the sun, like a bold flame of pluck.

-“Now that this matter is settled, what shall be our course?” asked master Hank, “It will be long until we find horses to mount, so for now we must stride. Shall we go now to the Pass of Hel, where we may find your brother?”

-“Yes, the Pass of Hel is our aim,” Elbracht replied, “But long it shall be until the path lead us there. Before, we find the Black Knight, another task we must fulfil. I have sworn to lady Aléndra that I would find her brother. And I shall try to honour my oath. We must go to the south and east, to the place where lord Hadril and his family met their demise. For what we know, sir Antuel travelled with them to Nalas before he escaped the doom, so we must journey thither in hope he is well and sound.”