Chapter Fifteen.

The Mordbrood Assail on Rhom.

A soft dawn broke pale, over The Heights of Rhyddu, peering through the smoke haze that rose into the air from the fires of the Darkling encampment, now fattened by ten thousand more vermin who had marched there from the south; resolved to lay waste to the City of Rhom and the reaches of Lorenfalu. T'was but a matter of time before they breached the great curtain wall of Rhom. And soon enough, came the great rocks and boulders, hurled by the catapult Engines of War arrayed to the Heights of Rhyddu on its nether slopes; crashing and shaking the east curtain wall.

The wall was now showing all signs of its imminent slighting, with cracks creeping, and the shedding of splinters in shard from its inner face. These splinters whined about the streets, cutting down those so misfortunate as to be struck by them. The knowing stood hard that, when the wall tumbled, the Horanaurk Horde would lay on full assault, and such time would stand thin to send out warnings to The Forest of Raventhorn Scar and to Calverstock.

So, began the perilous clamber far up the great trumpet tower to sound the Alarm. This was a most dangerous enterprise; whereby, the stair wound upwards, compassing about the outer wall of the tower, which was built solid in stone to bear the mass of the trumpet. It lay plainly exposed to the Horanaurk gaze, and well within the span of reach of a bow-shot. Thoughts of prevailment stood not fat with enthuse. Five troopers fell; all shot through with arrows; for the Horanaurks knew they needs must deny the great voice of the trumpet calling Alarm across Lorenfalu.

Tristan... seeing this; hurried down to the undercroft cellars, and drew forth a broached hogshead cask, calling immediately, for his Ostle-master. The thought of a plan most impudent, stood firm in his mind. If two lengths of leather strapping were nailed to the rim of the cask, and the bottom struck out; then… if stepping therein, with the leather straps about his shoulders; the barrel girth compassing him about would shield him from the black arrows' rain.

Rhynam, The Black riders' Leader, made offer of his full-faced, closed helm. No Darkling bow shot could hope to breach it, and thus, it would fully protect Tristan. Then, Tristan could progress up the bare, winding stairway with the girth of the cask holding him safe from harm. Thus, he could accomplish the great brazen trumpet, and lay forth, with sturdy breath, the bellowing Alarm.

Helm in hand; and compassed about by the cask; Tristan came into the great courtyard of Rhom. He saw that yet one more of his troopers was about to attempt the climb up the trumpet tower. Seeing the ill-concealed fear in the young trooper's face at the prospect of his doom beckoning to him; he called that the young trooper should stand aside; saying...

'Think not to dispute this thing with me; Garryn Tugas. There is no require for you to prove your courage to me by dying. I shall call the alarm in your stead; bolstered about as I am with this robust oaken cask.'

He drew a sturdy breath and began to climb the steep, winding stairway, with the hopes of them all that he would prevail. At first, he was protected by the high stand of the great curtain wall. Higher, he came to the sight of the Horanaurks, who, curious... watched this cask with sturdy legs attached, swiftly clambering the stair. But then, came the knowing... and then, came the arrows, thick and fast, as they whined all about him. Thuddingly, they pierced deep into the cask staves, sparking off the iron hoops girdled there round.

Then, Tristan was lost from sight, as he compassed the nether reach. Then, he came forward once more, into plain sight... into the rain of the next flight of arrows. And so, this prevailed, until the cask closely took form of a hedgehog, with the arrow shafts bristling from it. Yet, such was the fortitude of the cask's oaken staves, never the one penetrated; and Tristan accomplished the head of the stairway with never a scratch. There, at the head of the tower, he paused a small span of time, and made to avail gatherment of his wind.

He stood to the mouthpiece; and made gift of sturdy blow to the great trumpet. Such a bellow that would stand fat across the plains laid about Rhom, from its coilings did brazenly swell; offending the ears in its billowing loudness. T'was a deep, booming roar that was felt to the very bone-marrow... laying wild affright to the Darklings, who threw hands to their ears, with all their balance in staggering disclaim.

With bright pain in their ears; then, the Darklings knew their gambit was fully forfeit. Alarm had been raised, and they need now take Rhom with consummate haste. For certain-sure; now the Forces of The Light would be marching, and no knowing when they stood faced...' nor how many there might be, 'nor from where they might come.

All thoughts of laying siege stood now, fully in the deny. Needs must, full assault now be laid upon The City. So beset were the Horanaurks with vexation, they saw not, in the sky to north… a vague speck that flashed bright in the sunlight, as it turned towards Rhom. The speck rapidly grew larger. It came lower; skimming the wide, open plain, edging slightly west with subtle drift, until it was skirting the edge of The Delvlings below the tree-line, in sly, cunning deceit. In Rhom, they saw it was a Silvery Dragon, and knew that the Darklings now stood in receipt of a most gruesome tutorment. It was Tahkaiia, the Predator-Wanderer from out of Storien-Rhudd. They watched, as she made a soft turn into the east, and still then, the Darklings held not the slightest notion of what would soon be unleashed upon them.

Tahkaiia made heighten her swiftness as she approached the flank of The Heights of Rhyddu. Traversing north, she laid a great, rolling blossom of yellow-red fire across the slopes; and the first the Darklings knew of their demise, was their shrivelling doom full upon them, and scarcely time for a half-strangled shriek as their black blood boiled and steamed in their veins; and, for fully half-a- league, did this horror make wreak along the slopes of Rhyddu.

At the far reach of The Heights of Rhyddu, Tahkaiia circled in the return, and swept down the flank of the Heights, riding so low, the wind off her wing-beats flattened the fern, all smouldering and charcoaled from the scorch of her first flaming. For, on that first progress, from out of her eye, she had espied Horanaurk watchers who lay upon the upper slopes in concealment.

Thinking themselves safe beyond arrow flight from the east wall of Rhom, they needs, but watch and wait. Then suddenly, their doom had crept there, all about them. Frantically, they scrambled away, but, too late was the grasping of knowing their impending doom. Tahkaiia laid forth a long, billowing blossom of flame that rolled all about their conceals; roasting them all in the span of a heartbeat. There was just one crackling whoosh, and the odd, ragged squealing. Then, circling again, she made once more, a return progress. But, nothing there moved; and she turned not again until she was beyond the far reach of The Heights of Rhyddu.

At length, she turned out onto The Plain of Malphaers; and now, precious time was here gifted to buttress the wall. Great oaken beams were wedged and strutted thereto... for soon enough, would The Heights of Rhyddu turn black with the main assault. As the defenders toiled with the strutting and buttressing; soft on the wind came a frightening sound… drifting, and swelling, then paling and fading; echoing all across The Heights of Rhyddu. A howling and wailing, and screeching and screaming echoed the Heights, and suddenly, to east, dark smoke curled into the sky, rising up from out of The Plain of Malphaers. Those in Rhom watched it, and the knowing of reason for this stood plain in their minds. Tahkaiia, the Predator-Wanderer of Storien-Rhudd had laid forth her doom upon the Horanaurk Horde, and this stood advantage most singular to The Light. For the more vermin she cindered, the less there were to stand against their swords.

At length, as they kept watch; from southwards, came Tahkaiia in cumbersome drift around The Knoll of Rhyddu. But, she held not flight with her consummate elegance. Something was amiss. They saw how she struggled to retain her distance from the ground, with her dexter wing all tattered and torn; and many, were the arrows that pierced her about. She barely accomplished Rhom's Courtyard, and there, made slump; forlorn and spent. Here then, lay a conundrum that stood close, beyond wit. How then, to 'pothick a Dragon?

Cuchulain, churgeon to Tristan, fretted in lacking of the knowing of salves he might employ. Her wing could be mended with needle and spider-silk… in manner the same as he would close up the wound from a sword. But, for the deep arrow piercings, he held not the knowing. Would Tincture of Alfirin poured therein, stand any shred of advantage to deny the creep of the noxious pollution the black arrows gifted? The differentness between The Algethi and the Dragon stood not in dispute in his thoughts.

Eldamar came forward as Cuchulain fretted and pondered; and seeing his vexing of thought, communed with Tahkaiia, asking of her, what physick was it need be sought out? For certain; Alfirin would give her small comfort. What manner of potion stood now, to her need? The noxious pollution of the arrows would surely spread swiftly, and they needs-must, with consummate speed, seek out some manner of salve for her easement. For t'was certain-sure, such time stood thin. For Dragon or not; they could see she was ailing, and soon enough, would the poisoning begin to creep.

Tahkaiia spoke softly, 'aye there were certain 'pothicks, much used in the Eyrie of High Camas Mhor for salving the hurts of the Dragons of Storien-Rhudd; but for certain sure, about here, were no store of the substances to meld this efficacious salve... and no time to squander in seeking; this day. She needs must lay forth intelligences on them of what now stood behind The Heights of Rhyddu.

As she had progressed the nether flank of the Heights, she had laid forth a grave smiting thereto, upon the vermin now massed in preparation for the Rhom assault. She had laid her withering flume as she flew the reach of the slope in a great rolling blossom; winnowing a wide path of shrivelsome doom, and engulfing with fire, fully six, out of eight of the great catapults that would no more, fling their rocks at the great curtain wall. But, alas, now... she was fully undone; for no more could she fly to lay down the flume of the shrivelling doom. Her torn wing would not now lift her into the sky.

Eldamar laid once again, the question of substance to meld for this salve; holding her stern in eye... saying, she stood as wilfully stubborn as any Algethi maid he ever had known. She wearily let gift a smoky sigh, bowing to his will. There was, but small hope there, to gather such things, for certain and sure. T'was more a squander of precious time… for neither substance would be in this place.

There, in the Courtyard of Rhom; Cuchulain made ready to sew the great rent in the wing of Tahkaiia, as question specific was laid by Eldamar to her, of the meld concerning this salve of the Dragons. She laid tell, that, on occasion that Dragons suffered some hurt in the Eyrie, they repaired to The Halls of the Keeper of Dread Imposition; and progressing beyond the Great Chamber therein, they followed a passage down into a great web of caverns, wherein, all about, could be found substance, the first. It was a white, powdery crystal all coating the cave walls in ample abound, where the rain-spill seeped through the rock. If they licked this powdery crystal, such hurt that they carried stood most swiftly, in the deny.

Further then; substance, the second... it was a common plant, ever and always close by on the slopes of Great Camas Mhor. This plant… it was eaten, and a paste of the same was laid into such woundings as gaped. In a brief span of time… perhaps, less than two moons... such wounds would mend closely, with no fear of fester or moulder. It was known by name as "Spadderwort"... called by the Algethi, "Fire-weed"; with amber bell-flowers, and leaves of russet-red.

Eldamar gave a wry smile,

'Oh, foolish young Loki. A half-Sundial shadow since, this stood need to be said. Fire-weed grows thick as fleas stand upon a wolfhound; there... in The Delvlings. T'was ever a blight to the trystings, as many lovers have found to their rueing; when careless in passion, their skin has been kissed by this weed; for its sap burns like fire. T'is kith-kin of the nettle; yet, in bite, a thousand times more so than its cousin. And, as for the white crystal, why... here, we have plenty; 'tis part sum of the Khallis Black powder. Indeed, close on fifty bushels lie down in the undercroft. We can provide you both, with consummate speed.'

Turning, he made to call out a patrol of the Faluan guard, to progress with full haste to The Delvlings, to seek out and gather the Fire-weed; but then, came a cry from a guard in the watchtower; who called that The Lady Gwythlyn had ridden from the sally port towards The Delvlings. 'Aye, it stood clear as plain-writ upon parchment, she rode for the Fire-weed; this, Eldamar knew... and never the doubting. For Gwythlyn stood troubled by her presumed debt owed to Tahkaiia, beholden from The Riggs of Grey Prestor. This debt concerned her prevailment, and the waylaying Darklings' demise; both gifted by Tahkaiia... and this, was a small chance to make payment of reckoning. Leastways, so it stood thus; before Gwythlyn's eyes. Honourable, 'Aye... but most reckless- foolhardy; with odds then, full even, of Darklings about; engaged in the lurking and probing of defences. For this would now be their endeavour… of that, there was no doubt.

To the south, 'neath the Knoll of Rhyddu, lay a Hollow road beyond the Watch-sentries' view. It lay fully half-a-league in stretch, edging the Delvlings; and here, the Horanaurks could lie close on a Cohort in concealment. Oh, foolish, brave Algethi-wench... as stubborn as the Loki, Tahkaiia. Oh... brave, and foolish females, both.

Eldamar ran to his quarters close by. Knowing the danger compassing about Gwythlyn stood clear, he resolved as to what, he need must now do. Calling his Ostler to bring forth Starshadow; swiftly, he buckled himself all about with Eitheltuil Eledhwen, his Mighty Guardian Sword. For here, stood small doubt she rode into a trapment... he laid wager upon it. Suspicion of some deceit there, stood fat with foreboding. Wraith-Hunter, or not, she could not prevail alone. Too high was this score for the reckoning owed.

Eldamar rode out on Starshadow at furious gallop, resigned that his prospect to waylay Gwythlyn stood thinner than the weaving of a cloak out of Moon-mist. Her stand was now, close, a full half-league away. Still he rode on, with Starshadow's hooves wreathed full of thunder, and then, dreadfully; to his sight came all that he had feared; as The Horanaurks rose up out the Hollow road and her mount reared in fright. He saw the glitter in the sun, as she drew forth "Gurthelkaa", with the Horanaurks fully compassing round about her. Then, suddenly, the Horanaurks were wailing as they were beset by warriors. These warriors seemed to spring up from out of the ground; smiting the Horanaurks down in the span of a heartbeat; their doom, standing fully upon them.

These were the Shadaiian Wraith-Hunters, shape-shifting all about them. One moment they were there, and the next moment, they were gone. The Shadaiians moved about the Horanaurks like Moon-mist on water, slaying them with singular impunity; by reason that the Horanaurks could not gift a single sword-bite to them as the Shadaiians whirled about them as if they were Wraiths. One moment, they were there before them... then, there was 'naught, but swirling mist, and no hope of laying forth a blow from a Kelek-Bersker to a wreathing of nothingness.

Thus, were The Horanaurks hacked down. The Wraith-Hunters laid cruel sport upon them; shape-shifting, to perhaps, a bird, that alighted upon the shoulder, and then became its true form… slashing the throat of the misfortunate Darkling. Or again… a rabbit darting about the feet that suddenly became a warrior, thrusting his sword up into The Horanaurks vitals; and never the knowing, which was what, and what was where.

Gwythlyn; by now, having made dismount her steed, with "Gurthelkaa" naked in her hand; laid forth into the affray. Eldamar saw her split one Horanaurk from temple to groin in one terrible stroke, and knew his concernment for her, though natural, was certainly lacking in cause. His granddaughter was, indeed gifted with the consummate prowess of a true Wraith-Hunter. Ghlinngar the Sage had tutored her to perfection in his art, far away in Yeranoor.

Sprawled about the Hollow road, all shredded and hacked, lay close on a half-cohort of Horanaurks. As Eldamar approached; the Shadaiian Wraith-Hunters were uncloaking to their true form; laughing and jesting at this most amusing of sports. They surrounded Gwythlyn with much felicitation in the matter of her swordship. For though, as previously told; they were beset with a cold, and unforgiving demeanour… such humour as they were gifted, stood in the reveal only when they were laying doom and destruction upon the heads of their prey.

Eldamar pondered on this thing. These Shadaiians were in truth, 'naught less than assassin Algethi, and he resolved to hold them in the same regard as he would, say… an unguarded sword blade left careless within reach of a youngling ...'aye, with great caution. For though, they were indeed, creatures of The Light… The Light stood not so brightly about them, in manner the same as it stood not so brightly about The Nemesis of Lothluthil. Both were from out of that shadowy place that lay somewhere between The Light and The Darkness. But, they were then, both of equal standing and weight in the matter of the destruction of The Darkness. Yet, firm with the knowing of this; even so, a shadow of unease prowled about the mind of Eldamar, and he wondered what here, was now unleashed in the name of The Oneness of The Light, and of Amriath.

Eldamar reined in Starshadow; resolved to lay forth stern admonition to Gwythlyn concerning her recklessness, but... Archernan, the Shadaiian Leader, stayed Eldamar's hand; saying, this was a subtle subterfuge, laid between Gwythlyn and him, by way of the watchers at Rhom; to gift the Shadaiians full measure of The Horanaurks who were known to be hereabouts in lurk. The signal would stand when Gwythlyn espied the flying of a group of crows about The Delvlings. Then, she would ride out as bait for the trapment which would, t'was hoped, give The Horanaurks in lurk, much cause to lick their lips at the prospect of such a prize. They would not know that the Shadaiians beset them around; seeing only crows rootling among the grasses.

This deceit stood most fair; even, to the Horanaurks in their indolence of lurk, casting stones and sticks at the crows. And here, lay the jest of it all. For, when one Horanaurk laid question of these black birds all about them; another answered,

'Pshaw!… T'is, but a Murder of crows.'

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And the Shadaiians concealed and shape-cloaked about them, were hard pressed to hold their mirth captive behind their teeth, in the face of these words chosen most unwisely, yet, so fatefully, by this misfortunate Darkling.

Thus was the manner of how the Shadaiian Wraith-Hunters made their stand to Rhom in accord with the Covenant laid between Gwythlyn and Archernan, back in The Forest of Raventhorn Scar. Eldamar lay gaze about the Hollow road hard by the edge of The Delvlings, as he pondered the hacked and shredded Horanaurks laying scattered all about. A full half-cohort laid to waste, in sum complete, and in less span than one-third of a Sundial shadow. He thrust away such shadowy thoughts he held in concern of the Shadaiians. They were what they were; and they were for The Oneness of The Light. All else they might be, stood in the face of this thing as something less in issue than the span in passing that some vexed farmer might squander in fretting the tally of grain pillaged from his corn-field by a single Harvest mouse.

Alas, such time squandered in idle muse would not bring forth honey from the comb, and needs-must, progression now be made into The Delvlings to gather Spadderwort for the salving of the arrow piercings of Tahkaiia, the Silver One. Six of the Shadaiians made shape-shift; manifesting as chattering magpies, and flew forward into the greening to spy out any Horanaurk lurkment therein. Archernan and ten of his Shadaiians surrounded Gwythlyn and Eldamar, naked swords in hand, as they prospected and made gather of the plant. The Delvlings lay quiet, and no trace of Horanaurk to confound their endeavour.

With an abundance of the plant thus gathered, they returned to Rhom. Archernan and the Shadaiian Wraith-Hunters were made fully welcome by Tristan, and apportioned quarters, as to their needs.

Thence all repaired to the place where Tahkaiia rested. Gazing upon her, they were filled with dismay. She lay in slump; having scarce moved since they last cast eye upon her. Her silvery shine was dulled, and she bore the countenance of a sickly infant. They had laid the white, powdery crystal before her, to which she made feeble lick, but t'was plain, this was not enough to gainsay the creep of the noxious pollution of the arrows. Cuchulain was beside himself with worry. Tahkaiia was fading, as surely as the sun sinks in the west, and there was no 'pothicking he might bring forth to confound this thing.

Swiftly, the Fire-weed was laid before her, but she paid little heed. Gwythlyn, and the young Rider of Lothleitha, Mahriel, made sturdy effort to softly coax her into taking of it, but she gainsaid all their gentle entreatments. A great disconsolation beset them, not knowing what next, they might do.

Then suddenly, as they fretted; there came a burgeoning, rushing noise, and the sky was filled with gryphons. T'was Lokari's Squadron here progressed from Calverstock in response to the voice of the Great trumpet of Rhom. The leading gryphon lowered; wheeling about, and came down into the Courtyard of Rhom. Lokari made dismount, and Eldamar apprised him of what stood here, this day.

Then, a most wondrous thing. Tahkaiia laid sight upon him, and her demeanour changed... as will ripple on water when 'tis tugged at by the wind. A brightness came into her dull gaze, and she raised her head towards him. He stood to her, laying his hand upon her head, and asked that she might take of the Fire-weed in mingle with the white, powdery crystal there laid before her. In simple obedience, she took up a mouthful, and began to chew.

Eldamar smiled softly. 'Aye, here was bond, indeed. The bond he had seen in plain sight at Storien-Rhudd, and he knew all would now stand well in this matter. Indeed, it would stand well, even beyond his imagining; for in a short span, Tahkaiia's scales began to shine once more. Perhaps, t'was the burning sap of the Spadderwort, this humble plant of small significance. Who was to know? Perhaps, t'was that Lokari stood here beside her and, of the knowing that he was safe. Perhaps, t'was the sum of both of these things. It mattered not at all... which or both; for it was enough. Tahkaiia no more held the feeble slump of form that had until now, beset her.

So now, to the drawing out of the arrows. Caron brought forth a great mortar cup in which she had pestled to a paste, a quantity of the Spadderwort. Lokari began to gently draw forth the arrows… as would a splinter of wood be drawn from out of a finger. With each drawing, a portion of the Spadderwort paste was laid to the piercing. So this continued, with Tahkaiia gifting wince on occasion that an arrow specific, was perhaps, more deeply piercing than another. Then, of a sudden, she bade Lokari pause. She told that the next arrow, she thought, had breached her flame bladder. Needs must, he take great care here, and stand not before the piercing as the arrow was drawn.

Heeding her words, Lokari stood back to one side; and grasping the arrow, gave a sturdy tug. Tahkaiia gave a sharp wince as the arrow came free, and a frightensome hissing prevailed... as did a thin gout of flame which stood forth something less than a cubit in reach. Tahkaiia made gift of a sigh. There would be no more shrivelling doom laid by this Loki; not in span of passing until the New moon stood again in her slivered, crescent waxing.

The Horanaurk Horde Masters; beset with seething fury at the confounding of their plan to topple the walls of Rhom, by reason of the destruction of six from eight of their great catapults now laid to ashes by Tahkaiia; elected that, if they could not topple the walls from without, then perhaps, they might topple the City from within. Their plan was simple, but dreadful... even by measure of Horanaurk vileness.

They would gather the putrid bodies of the young Lieutenant Nindelen's slaughtered Faluan patrol which had lain about The Heights of Rhyddu, now close on a Se'nnight, bloating and festering in the sun. They would slash open the bodies... as if for paunching, and hurl them into the City with the two catapults yet in remain. Within the City, t'was visioned; they would burst wide asunder, splattering their corruption all about the streets and dwellings. Perhaps, some dreadful pestilence would rise about the thus-tainted City. Perhaps, the putrefaction splashed about, might even pollute the wells.

The plan stood bright in their evil minds. So it was; the noisome, rotting corpses were gathered together and further despoiled, by laying open their swollen and bloated bellies. Then, the first was hurled out over The Heights of Rhyddu. This first corpse flew over the eastern wall with its rotting entrails streaming forth in trailment; to make gift of the cobbles with a putrid, stinking, spattering thud; spreading its putrefaction all about to the horror of those who walked close by where it fell. Then, came the next, and the next; each striking the cobbled streets with the same terrible, wet slapping thud. The stink of corruption spreading thereabouts was far beyond the realms of abiding.

Karina, drawn forth by the wails of horror, cast gaze about at this loathsomeness. Clasping a kerchief to her lips and nose, she stepped amongst the ruined bodies that lay, spilling their putridness, all running amongst the cobbles. She perceived they were Faluan, and slowly, the red mist of rage crept upon her. She looked in horror upon the corpse that had, at the first, been flung over the wall. It lay there, with gaze unseeing, through the stabbing wounds to its eyes, towards a sky that its Charas may in truth, never have ascended to. Its breasts had been hacked, and clawed, and the marks of horrible torturing stood plain upon it. As she looked; slowly came the recognising. It was Nindelen… pretty, laughing Nindelen... though she was not pretty now; for they had also taken her tongue and her ears. Looking upon this desecration of her sword-sister, a dreadful, Icing fury clutched at Karina. Turning upon her heel, she thrust passage through the terrified throng, many of whom were gifting the store of their bellies in retch upon the cobbles.

She strode to the Faluan Garrison quarters and lay tell of this dreadful thing to her sword-sisters. There stood no shred of debate 'nor dispute in this issue. Fully armoured and weaponed, the entire Faluan strength rode for the City gate; and none there, with a mind to gainsay them. They had, but to gaze upon the cold, grim, expressionless faces of Karina and her troopers to know full well, there was no word could be spoken that would turn them from their purpose... to heap utter destruction upon as many Horanaurks as they might lay sword to.

Word spread swiftly about Rhom of this thing… even as the bodies still came, to spatter in the streets, or burst against the walls of the dwellings. Lokari swiftly raised the gryphons and riders from stable, and they mounted and flew out to support Karina. The Shadaiians assembled; and as one, shape-shifted into a Conspiracy of Ravens, prepared to fly out over Rhyddu and fall upon the Horanaurk encampment. Then too, came forth The Nemesis of Lothluthil, with their eye discs locked down within their full-faced helms, 'gainst the shine of the sun. But not this time, were the hooves of their mounts muffled… not this time would they foray in stealth. They rode out to the north; a glittering black vision of impending doom, to flank the reaches of The Heights of Rhyddu and encircle The Horanaurks from behindwardly.

Karina and her Faluans rode away to the south, to compass The Knoll of Rhyddu by way of the Hollow road. As they made distance, there came the bright cry of a signal horn from The Delvlings, and from out the greening came the brilliant white wave of the Riders of Lothleitha, standing forth from Calverstock. Staisha made reply on her horn, and they came on to Rhom in haste. Staisha came swiftly down from the battlements to gather her sabre, ready to ride out the Riders of Lothleitha immediately, whence they accomplished the City gates.

She came upon Arlanna making haste for the stables, buckling her sword about her as she ran. Her Ostler was even now, leading out her great, Cordach war stallion, saddled and harnessed. Staisha called to Arlanna, prevailing upon her to tarry awhile; but Arlanna, in piling her pale hair under a war-helm, made stern reply, her emerald eyes flashing.

'I ride for Eldamar, and for Gwythlyn, and you should join with me… or have you a mind to live forever? Does your Charas stand timid to gaze upon Sathulinan, this fine morn?'

Staisha gifted her a wry smile,

'Hold hard, Arlanna of Fionndell... a hasty bee gathers, but small store of pollen. The Lady Gwythlyn has ridden to compass The Knoll of Rhyddu in company with Karina and her Faluans. The Lord Guardian Eldamar rides in; returning to Rhom as we bicker. And more; the Riders of Lothleitha stand close approach to the gates of Rhom, with Callam and the Companions from Calverstock riding close in their dustings.'

A great clattering of hooves caused them to pause in their bandying of word, as from around the far reach of the great stables, there came the Rhom Cavalry in full battle array, led on by Trillian, and Tristan himself; his great sword, Dagnorath to his side… her pommelled Topaz flaring brightly blue. Tristan reined in his charger, and gazed at the two maidens, there bickering. His sapphire eyes, honest and blue as a fair summer sky; held shadow of a smile of sort, that a father will bestow upon his wayward daughters... such shadow of smile that stood full in betrayal of the imposed sternness of his voice.

'La, stand there not in variance, like some pair of squabbling magpies ... to horse! We muster in the gate-yard; in attend of The Lord Guardian and the Companions from out of Calverstock. Then, as one, we ride The Heights of Rhyddu to lay the wrath of Rhom upon the heads of these Horanaurk vermin. They shall, this day, taste the Flail of The Light upon them.'

As he spoke, Eldamar rode into the gate-yard, close trailed by the Riders of Lothleitha. Staisha moved to her sabre-sisters, easing her Unicorn mount through the press of warriors. Intelligence was then laid by the Riders. All stood well from Calverstock. Callam was riding forth, but a half league in trail of them, in company with the Garrison Companions. The Oneness of The Light would not be dragged down to ruin about Rhom… not This Day.

A bright horn note rang forth, and Callam, in company with his Elisriendell Algethi, rode in. Now the Force stood complete. The tactic stood simple. Karina, Gwythlyn, and the Faluans were in approach from the south, off-guarding The Horanaurks, who would form defence against them. The Nemesis of Lothluthil would then fall upon their rear, cleaving their defence. The Shadaiians would shape-shift into their midst, spreading fear and alarm, whilst Lokari's gryphons would lay harassment from on high. This would, t'was hoped; gift such confusion to the Horanaurk Horde Masters that they would be hard-pressed to hold stern Regiment. Thus, Tristan's force could charge down the nether slopes of Rhyddu, and lay full flanking assault on the main body of encampment.

There was, but one shadow to blight this endeavour. That shadow was Karina. She rode beset with a vicious, icing fury upon her, in concern of the Horanaurk desecration of the body of her sword-sister, Nindelen. The demeanour she now wrapped about herself stood not sound in this matter. There could not here, be the knowing of how she might progress the assault when she took sight of The Horanaurks. Tristan held concern she might ride, as would a Khuzud-Mahin wrapped in the arms of the Dark drink of The Khallis Berserk. In this, it lay certain sure that about this place behind The Heights of Rhyddu, Karina… Captain of Bodyguard to The Ice Queen of Shandalar would, as like, embrace her dooming.

As he pondered this thing; there came a call from the Watchtower. A rider was coming from out of the Delvlings, at stern pace. What then, was this? The Calverstock Companions-at-Arms were complete. Tristan stood forth to the gate in survey; then there came a brief, bright violet flash in the sun from the riders flank. It could only be the one... Marcus!... In furious gallop from Calverstock.

He rode into the gate-yard, and they all saw at his side, his mighty sword, Farahuine; with her great, pommelled Amethyst flaring brightly, and blinding to their eyes. Tristan stood forward, saying:

'What do you here, little brother? Is all well at Calverstock?'

Eldamar cloaked a smile. "Little Brother" indeed... with scarce the span of one-quarter of a Sundial shadow between their births! Marcus laughed.

'Faugh! Thought you, to hold me in deny of such sport? Thought you, to gather all the minstrel weavings concerning this day, about yourself in manner of a winter cloak? ... I think not, brother!'

Such banter stood, clear as a crystal steam out of the Ice Peaks of Shandalar, that there was no truth in their bicker, they were fully content to ride together, as they had in their younger days. The Brothers were indeed, well met. Now, there stood Five Guardians of The Light, to lay ruin upon The Horanaurks. The Company stood in good heart, but would they still stand thus, at the closing of the day?

Tristan made formation of his Forces without the walls of Rhom. The Cavalry would ride an open box formation, surrounding the Riders of Lothleitha. In this, was tactic, specific. For when the Cavalry first engaged The Mordbrood, the box would open and the Riders of Lothleitha would sweep out to lay doom upon the Horanaurks, who would certainly be beset with sudden clawing fear, as they beheld the white wall of leissor-mailed maidens upon their Unicorn steeds sweeping down upon them. For all Darklings feared the Riders of Lothleitha. T'was a common tale, spun whisperingly around the Cave hearths, that these leissor-clad Algethi-wenches, upon their fearsome white Unicorns; rode fully embraced in the Dreaming of The High Goddess Elaiana, and the simple notion of facing such as these, would cause Darklings to fill breeches with the very thought of this thing.

The tactic of engagement further stood that, at the moment the Cavalry box broke rank to unleash the Riders of Lothleitha, then the Gryphon Squadron would fall upon the Horanaurks from out of the skies. As such tactics were laid forth by Tristan to those there assembled; of a sudden, a signal trumpet blared from the Watchtower. There had been spied a bright flash at the edge of The Delvlings as the sun betrayed a movement.

They all turned as one, to lay gaze thereto, and there! A rider galloping in from out of the tree-line. But, who could it be? For the gatherment in this place was complete. The archers swiftly took station about the battlements, as onward the rider progressed. Who this might be, was not for the telling. The rider and mount were fully armoured in plate and mail of a golden hue that glittered brazen in the sunlight. The rider bore a great sword in a golden scabbard, and was full-faced of war helm. The archers notched arrow to bow, and laid aim upon the rider who came on swiftly in approach. Then, suddenly... a great cry echoed the ramparts:

'Hold Hard! Guard-off your bows!'

And shouldering through the throng, came one of the old warriors from out of The Corries of Thar; a Master fletcher, come to the service of Tristan at Rhom. His eyes were wide and staring; his countenance was paling white... as if he beheld some Shade or Phantom there before him. He cried out that he knew this armour as surely as he knew the lines upon the palm of his hand.

In his springtime days he had made stand in The High Pass of Ling in company with this armour. See there! The Cypher upon the Cuirass… the garlanded Snow Lilies of Old Shandalar! This Golden armour, last seen half a life-span ago... the armour of Cirion, The Warrior Ice Queen; daughter of The Snow Queen Serissea of Galeth and The Lord Calamar... Hammer of Astalan. And, about the walls of Rhom, there fell a silence so thick, as to be cut with a blade.

The rider reined in mount before the gates of Rhom, and before their widening gaze, raised helm. Golden hair cascaded down, and they looked into the sky-blue, Agate eyes of Chelaine, who gifted them a wry smile. Marcus spoke;

'What do you here, Chelaine?'

She laughed,

'Shame upon you Marcus. Thought you to leave me at Calverstock, like some homely hearth matron? 'Nay, husband; if Sathulinan calls this day, we shall journey home as one.'

Marcus, in bemusement, questioned as to the armour, for she had never shown claim to any humour of the warrior way. Indeed, she had decried the Throne of Shandalar for this very choose that she held. She ever held humour for hearth and home; always content at the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere. But now, when the weighing and balance was tallied, she had not been found wanting. Marcus thought, she is indeed, her Mother's Daughter, and he was proud of her. Chelaine smiled.

'Your pardon, Husband. This then, is my secret; held in cloak for such a day as this. Here, you see my Mother's armour, made sturdier yet by the hand of the Khallis armourers in concert with Old Filar. Thus, it was brought out of Shandalar on the day of our daughter's accession, and secreted within the Great Crystal Castle from that time. T'is a trifle snug in part, but t'will prevail me in this endeavour. And, this...'

She drew forth the great sword from its scabbard with a sweetly-pleasing "Shlooong."

'My Mother's Great Sword of Shandalar, "Arnsulforth," also called "Blizzard of The North"; now enchanted in manner the same of the other Swords of The Light, by Elshore at Calverstock.'

This then, was the Sword with which Cirion, The Warrior Ice Queen had turned back the Suhai Host in The High Pass of Ling, those summers long since passed; and now, t'was enchanted beyond any wild dreaming she may have ever held. They gazed upon this Legend with eyes disbelieving, for never was it thought of to be seen again. "Arnsulforth" stood two, and one-half cubits in blade, and was pommel-stoned now, with an opaline cabochon that shimmered colours, as like the curtains of light that sometimes danced in the far Northern night skies.

Seeing the concern besetting Marcus, Chelaine gifted the knowing that, in secret, Elshore had tutored her well in the wielding of this great blade in manner the same as the sword-brothers had prosecuted at the Ragnor Redoubt, those summers now long passed... the manner of The Old Ways. The fashion of swordplay for the days that were now, were beset with affectation and frippery... more as like some Courtly dance. But, if the wont was to slaughter the enemy... well then, you fell back upon The Old Ways. But, enough of this; where was Talith?

No sooner were the words laid, than Talith shouldered through the throng in the Gate-yard. She was garbed in her "Kalhkari" armour, and her hair was plaited up in war-braids... just as Tristan had laid sight upon her when they first had met in the bright golden meadows, those summers so long since passed. She made a pleasing sight, and Tristan gazed with admiring, yet concerned eyes, upon her.

'What means this, Talith?'

He asked of her; although he knew the answer before he made gift of the question. She regarded him with a lengthy, emerald-eyed stare. And, in that stare he read that such resolve that Talith now held, was not for his dispute... not if he knew what would stand to his advantage in the days to come... if indeed, there were days to come for any of them. Chelaine broached their unworded congress, saying:

'T'is well met, Sister. Come; fill your hand with this…'

And brought forth a scabbarded sword from the nether flank of her Rhola war stallion, tossing it to Talith. Tristan knew it in an instant. T'was Talith's old hunting sword; Eldanore leissor-bladed, for hunting Darklings when she was "Kalhkari Shalafial"... "Mistress of Unicorns." But, now… it had been gifted full enchantment by the hand of Elshore, and was pommelled with a mighty Emerald out of the Jewel-Hoard of Laurelindor. This Emerald had been chosen by Chelaine; for the sword had no name, and had never been gifted with "Cilme vell Kiira" …Choosing the Gems; as had all the rest.

Talith stood as ready as any of them to be called by name "Guardian of The Light," and Chelaine, knowing that Landamar's eyes were blue, had guessed that Talith's mother's eyes would have been green. She saw this in the Emerald-blueness of Talith's gaze; and all Guardian Swords should bear Eye-stones. Talith had no memory of her mother, but, Landamar had gifted Chelaine with the truthing; her Mother's eyes were indeed, green of hue… the soft green of a finch's breast.

Talith drew the sword from its scabbard with a subtle glissing sound. T'was good to feel it there in her hand, once more. She turned to Tristan, saying:

'Thought you then, in like manner as Marcus; to deny me sport, this fine day? For, as Chelaine has spoken; should Sathulinan whisper forth, this day; then it shall whisper to us both, husband. And no more there, to say on this matter.'

She swiftly scabbarded the blade and buckled all to the sword frog that hung naked from her sword-belt. Tristan's Ostle-master had led out a sturdy Rhola warcharger from the stables, and Talith swung into the saddle. Tristan now knew he stood fully cozened, and bested by these two sword-sister Princesses. In this, he saw a plot laid betwixt them, some distant time passed; and if truth be told, in this, he was well pleased, and well proud of them both. Then they rode out, Seven Guardians of The Light in company. All had been said, and like... as in this chapter; no more there for the telling.