Chapter Four.

The Swords of The Custodians of Asteth Tarsi.

Even as the younglings gathered about Eldamar, hearkening to his counselling of the matter of The Light; far to the north, the Tythe Levy Constables were progressing the estates and farmsteads weighing the sum of supposed yield, so they might later reckon the Tythe Levy to be settled when came the harvest. Each was reckoned in just accord... as had been acceded by all at the Counsel with The Queen. Throughout the whole of Shandalar, the Constables came upon, but one, who did wilfully abandon his compact.

This was one of the perfidious covey of Lordlings at Court who had chosen to conspire together to resist this perceived impost. The Lordlings was called by name: Rinil Farondar. His fellow connivers had decried this stand which would be deemed Treasonable, and had decamped away from the proposed plot. Farondar though, being so beset with such seething rancour at this supposed meddle with his easement and garnered worth; elected to defy the require of the Constables to progress his landholdings.

When the Constables had laid demand of ingress, he had commanded his retainers to assail them. Both were tumbled from their mounts and battered in sturdy measure. When, at length, they had been drubbed insensible; both had been cast out from Farondar's landholding. At length, the disfeatured Constables made return to The Queen's Constabulary Station of Calenlaide and laid the tell of their misadventure to Rethir Elwand, Tythe Bailiff of the Realm.

The remedy stood plain before Rethir Elwand. All the steaders knew of the imposition to be laid for such arrant demurral. This denial would bring down upon the gainsayer, the sum weight of The Queen's Constabulary Station of Calenlaide; and all would be sequestered. That was The Law… and Rethir Elwand, Tythe Bailiff of the Realm, now chose now to prosecute The Law. He gathered his standing Constables and rode out to lay this malcontent Lordling Rinil Farondar by the heels.

Elwand and his ten, and five Constables rode down on the Hall of Farondar, naked sword in hand, and took him from his steading with no hint of repel by his retainers. Those amongst them who had assailed his Constables were taken in company with Farondar. Each and all were borne in chains to The Queen's Constabulary Station of Calenlaide.

Those retainers who held no fault in this matter were instructed to remain in attend of the estate until the sequesters came; on pain of being deemed to be settled in connive of this matter of aggress and demurral of Tythe. At Calenlaide, those taken were all thrown into the Lock-up whilst a despatch was hawk-flown to the Citadel of Shandalar to elicit the deem of Queen Cirion concerning their chastisement.

The miscreants languished in the Lock-up of The Queen's Constabulary Station of Calenlaide for two moons 'ere the respond came to Elwand's hand. The Queen's Judgement was this:

The retainers would be returned to Farondar's estate as Tythe labourers, stripped of such appanage as they might once have embraced. For She held deem that they might well have been pressed by the sturdy require of Farondar, to prosecute the assail upon the Constables. The malcontent Lordling Rinil Farondar was adjudged by The High Council to be amiss in affection to The Crown of Shandalar, should be sequestered in full sum, and banished from out of the Realm, beyond the Enchanted Girdle.

In that he might not again achieve recourse within; he was to have seared upon him with a hot iron, the mark of the Sigil of The Abyss... being a pair of curving lines laying close, one to the other; in perceive, as like, the waist of a Sundial shadow-glass… yet being open to the upper and lower reaches. This Sigil bespoke in likeness of image to some imagine of the portal of The Abyss... being open to both the Underdark and the Overlight.

A constable was despatched to the smithy of the Hundreds; there to instruct the aforesaid smithy to fettle a searing iron in likeness of the require. This being done; the miscreant Farondar was smirched upon his shoulder with the Sigil in manner so prescribed, and was dragged in fetters to the borders of Yeranoor to the east. There, he was cast out of the Realm beyond the Enchanted Girdle. Were he to prospect a return, thus marked; then t'was certain-sure that The Cold Fire-Shield would rebut such trespass and hurl the wretch to his dooming in the embrace of The Burning Fire-Shield.

As Farondar wandered into the Yeranoor Woldings wringing his hands and bewailing his fate; he could not know that The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark" had, even yet, laid an entrapment for the miserable wretch that he had most recently become. Farondar's fate was not to be taken by Shadow-Wraiths, 'nor to be hacked asunder by marauding Chutaks. 'Nay, here was a gift of rare advantage. Baelar elected to contrive Farondar's pathway to a place where he could be turned to the advantage of The Darkness. That place was the Weens of White Prestor; a clutch of belowground passages up to eight cubits in lie, and covered over by large stone slabs. This was one of the places where Torbair had raised the Enchanted Girdle.

The Weens were dug out and stone lined in the Ancient of Days, but to what purpose... was lost in the mists of forgetfulness. Some tell that they were used as grain caches or cattle shelters... perhaps, a defence for hunters. Some yet tell they were used as places where folk could go into trance and contact the dead. In the Ancient of Days, before came the custom of cairning, t'was said that bodies were left upon hillsides so that animals might eat the remains - thus sending the spirit back to "Mother Earth," and in these Weens, then might the spirits be more easily reached.

Baelar elected that he would cozen Farondar into imagine that the Weens were indeed, the hindmost of these beliefs. He would effect a manifestation of a Faerie maiden bearing a silver bough of apple which contained blossom, leaf, and fruit... being silver, apple-shaped bells... apples which chimed against each other to make enchanting magical music which could lull those who hearkened the same into a trance reverie and transport them to the mystical realms; granting safe passage to, and return from, the Underworld; and in some myths, denoting immortality unto the bearer. There was a favourite harp song concerning this; T'was by name: "The Silver Bough," and was well-loved by all Algethi. The Faerie maid would, of course, be a covert-cloaked "Baelar'enin."

The "Baelar'enin;" meaning "The Many," or "Those who are being Dark" were; as previous told; the Ancient Spirits cast out by The High Goddess Elaiana. They were both male and female, and Baelar elected that this one would take exquisite female form, and by such means as was the require; would turn this miserable oaf to The Darkness. Then… beset with a black enchantment specific, to cloak the brand of The Sigil of The Abyss that he bore; this miscreant Algethi might breach this vexatious Girdle of Enchantment, and thus, empower the Forces of The Darkness to sweep into these Realms of The Light and lay to waste all there who would not bow to the Dominion of "The Lord of The Underdark."

Abandoned beyond the Enchanted Girdle, Farondar knew full well that he dare not make approach in the return. The branding that throbbed and pained his shoulder… standing livid and weeping upon him... would most certain-surely be his dooming if he made bid to breach passage back into Shandalar. So then; he made affrighted, and wary slink out into the Yeranoor Woldings, beset with singular chary; 'less he be espied by some prowling band of Chutaks or some covey of roaming Shadow-Wraiths. To his suppose, he made aimless roam in seek of some shelter, not knowing of how the Woldings lay in prospect about him. In truth, his footsteps were shepherded by the prejudice of Baelar, towards the Weens of White Prestor where the wile would be sprung about him.

He came, at length, to the place where lay the Weens of White Prestor all about him. He knew but small sum of this place; other than t'was said that in the Ancient of Days they were used as places where folk could go into trance and contact the dead. How he knew this… he did not know; only that he knew it. He made heedful approach to the greater of the Weens, and then… to his harkening there came a whisper of music... a soft, sweet music that lulled away his fear; an echo of times long since, passed and forgotten. Farondar was drawn towards the dark threshold of the Ween. The music became more distinct. T'was like the perfect tinkle of flawless crystal bells.

He entered into the darkness, and there; he beheld her. She stood a little before him; a gentle smile upon her lips. As he gazed upon her, her mien was that of a Faerie; perhaps, a Sylph from out of some enchanted deep greening. Leastways, that was how Farondar beheld her, though in truth, he had never encountered such a being.

She stood some three, and one-half cubits in measure; slender and languid, with hair, the hue of a raven's wing, and dark, depthless eyes. Her skin bloomed pale, and white in the gloom. She was apparelled in a gown of gossamer-thin Tiffany, through which, her form stood luscious to the gaze. She bore a silver bough of apple beset with blossom, leaf, and fruit… the fruit being nine perfect silver apples that brushed and chinkled, each to the other, and from whence came the beguiling melody that had drawn him into this place.

For a little while, she held him in her dark gaze; eyes, soft and seductive as Sin, and then, with a languorous beckoning of her hand, she bade him follow. This, he so did; lost in her enticement. She progressed the Ween with Farondar in trailment. On and on they journeyed into the darkness. Farondar should have grasped the knowing that no Ween held such reach; but he did not… so enraptured was he with this maiden, and in truth; the music caused him to lose all sense of the march of time and distance.

After what seemed half of a lifetime, they came upon a great door. The maiden laid her hand upon the latch and opened the same. Within, he beheld a chamber of opulent array; adorned with rich, silken drapery and settled with a great divan. As he entered therein, the great door closed behind him. The maiden set down the Silver bough and turned to him. She let slip her tiffany gown all whispering to the floor, and laying upon the divan; held forth her arms to Farondar in wanton invite.

With senses and prudence addled by the enchantment woven about him, Farondar disrobed and joined with her there in that sumptuous chamber. In this, the entrapment was discharged in full sum. The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar" had, as in other times, distant passed; mentored this cloaked "Baelar'enin" in the weaknesses of Man and Algethi; and thus, this "Faerie maiden" possessed singular artistry in diverse distractions and amusements of abandoned carnality. The maiden, who held imagine in sum of little more than ten, and six summers in the eyes of Farondar; was precocious and gluttonous in her wanton demands of him.

At length, as he lay in full sate upon her; the door burst in, and there stood one who held the likeness of The Lord Guardian of The Light himself. Who stood before the divan and regarded with baneful demeanour, this wretch; even yet, entwined within the clutching thighs of this maiden who must be his daughter. Farondar had never been in the presence of The Lord Guardian of The Light, but had heard tell of his likeness. It mattered not how Eldamar was here; nor that his eyes were dark. Farondar was terrified of the calamity that now compassed him about. Had he been wearing breeches, t'was certain-sure that they would, by now, have been filled… but he was not. He lay upon her, not daring to move, 'nor even breathe, as The Lord Guardian spoke; his voice, a maleficent hiss…

'What think you, your chastisement for me having unmasked you aboard my daughter, wretch? Should I relieve you of privities and thence, despatch you in leisurely fashion? Should I cast you out as you are, into the Woldings as Chutak fodder? Or, should I thrall you to my will?'

Farondar dared not make respond. He laid affrighted glance at the maid who did 'naught, but hold him in her dark, and depthless gaze; a tiny, tranquil smile playing about her lips. Had Farondar slender grasp of any shred of wit or mettle, t'would stand plain that what now beset him was not as it seemed. Had he known of the dreadful peril that he now met, face to face; the mischance of being taken in swiving a wench, would seem as trifling as breaking wind.

For the wrathful father who now beheld him aboard his daughter was not Eldamar, Lord Guardian of The Light. 'Nay, it was The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," cloaked in image of Eldamar. Who gazed, with baneful relish at the prosper of his intrigue. This Algethi blunderhead was his for the taking; to be used as Baelar saw fit. Further; the female "Baelar'enin" had been endowed with abundant fecundity. This carnal dalliance she had kindled could not fail, but to lay her with child. This was the full sum of the intrigue.

Baelar was mindful that, even with the sternest black spell-casting; t'was as like, as not, that this Algethi oaf might well be destroyed by this vexingly chafing, Enchanted Girdle that denied Baelar his designs. The Algethi was marked with The Sigil of The Abyss; and would, as like, be laid to ashes as he sought to pass into the Shandalar Realm; but, no matter; such infant that the "Baelar'enin" brought forth would be a half-blood. As such; its Darkling half could be simple-cloaked so that it might effect an incurse through this Enchanted Girdle.

As a "Baelar'enin" offspring, its gather of summers was close; six times that of an Algethi. Thus, it would be disposed to insinuate itself into the Company of The Light, three summers hence. There, it could prevail in manner of viper in the bosom, and effect a sundering of the Enchanted Girdle in some secluded and unwatched place.

Commonly; female "Baelar'enin" held true female form for the span that such seed was upon them. Twelve moons in passing, and they brought Issue forth; an infant of sorts, who held not caste,, nor creed, and was unformed in demeanour. Baelar elected that this "Baelar'enin" would have specific, and singularly notable appanage laid upon her. When the youngling, who would become the Harbinger of Doom to the Matter of The Light was conceived; the mother "Baelar'enin" would not cast off her female form as was commonly manifested. She would not return to the Abyss, but would remain in her Faerie form, and take manner of bond with this oafish Algethi. She would ensnare and beguile him with diverse carnal delights whilst she slyly turned him to embrace this connivance of The Darkness.

At the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere, Eldamar had fulfilled his tutelage in the Matter of The Light to the younglings. Torbair of Aiuthal had held full assent concerning Kathalyn and Beshlie embracing the knowing of the precepts of The Knights of The Eternal Watchtower. This issue would need a sturdy span in passing; and so, the remain of the younglings would progress on to Rhom; there to begin their mentoring in skill of blade, and regard of tactics in warfare.

So it was; on a bright mid-summer morn, the younglings set forth from the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere, beset with stern escort of Elisriendell Range-Masters who had ridden in from Arlanronde, in purpose specific to bring the younglings safe from all harm, unto Rhom. As they progressed the morn, the Range-Masters lay tell of the craft of the Rangers of Elisriendell to the younglings. They told of how they might take wisdom of the land, whilst they campaigned. They told of such fruits and berries, and roots with which campaign victuals might be bolstered. They told of which trees and plants lay tell of water close by. They told how such water might be deemed sweet before the tasting... and were it not, then how to sweeten the same so that no ague befell the drinker.

The Range-Masters tutored the younglings in the tell of the weather; of which cloud shapes foretold of rain, and which lay tell of fair weather. They showed how to know from whence came the common-most winds... by way of on which side of the bole of trees, the mosses grew. In this, the younglings could remain secure, downwind from such peril as Chutak mounts that would smell them out, were they in conceal with the wind to their backs. They showed a moss of a kind, specific which could be set to wound as dressing, so that no fear of fester or rot would prevail in such wound.

All across the plains of Amriath did they lay the tell of the craft of the Rangers. They showed which plants would confound bleeding; which willows would gift sturdy assuage of wounding pain… were the inner bark of the same to be chewed. They told of how fresh honey was an efficacious salve for polluted wounds and burns. All of this was freely given. Such tutelage would stand the younglings fair in the times yet to come.

They rode the day without hindrance. The sun was slowly settling in the west, and here now, would come the next adventure. They were close to half-distance to Rhom; yet Calverstock was beyond daylight progress. They would make encampment out on the plains. This was embraced with keen eagerness by the younglings. To sleep beneath the stars! This was a newness none had encountered before this night.

The Range-Masters instructed them how they should lay their blanket rolls, so as not to chill in the night. They were shown how to dig campaign privies, and how not to tumble into them should call of nature prevail in the dark of the night. All were instructed in the manner of laying covert campfires beset about with rocks; the rocks gathering heat for cooking, yet shielding the greater of the flame from distant prying eyes. The younglings embraced all of this with great gusto. Even so; the Range-Master Captain set out sentinels on turnabout watch. There was no jeopardy of incurse, but t'was prudent to be safe, as to be sorry.

The night was spent without issue, and on the morrow, the younglings were wakened and set to the diversion of seeking out field mushrooms for the breaking of fast. The younglings were shepherded by a Range-Master, lest they plucked "Death's Caps" or "Angels of Death" in blunder. He instructed them that they should, at the first; pay sturdy regard to the nether reach of the caps of what would seem to be field mushrooms. A true mushroom had a specific hue beneath its cap; this being betwixt deep pink in the youngling, to deep brown in the fully-grown. Its deathly kin had, but one hue beneath the cap. That hue was white. Neither of the deathly kin should be touched, even fleetingly. Both would kill… a gruesome death; perhaps, spanning a handful of moons.

At length, the younglings returned with a fine clutch of field mushrooms. None had blundered, and the Range-Master's bidding had been well embraced. This had been another sound lesson in the craft of the Ranger, and would not be soon overpassed; for as their mentor Ranger had told them as they gathered… the deathly mushroom kin could be recoursed as weapon; say… 'an they were captured, and perhaps, set to gather victuals for their captors. A pair of handfuls of the "Death's Caps" or "Angels of Death" in some common potage would as like, lay to waste half of a company. There would be no telling savour, 'nor nose to the potage. There would be no griping in the guts of a sudden. 'Nay, the doom would come a'creeping in manner, much the same as mist comes a'creeping over some silent Mere.

There would be 'naught manifest for the first moon's passing; then would come the first gripe in belly. Beyond this, those who were doomed would be smitten with cholera lask, colic; spewing, and cold sweats. Over time, the spewing would grow more sturdy until they became enfeebled through lack of drink. They would become so weak as to perish from heart-fade. If this did not manifest, the outward show of dooming might diminish, but the poisons continued to ruin the tripes; in manner, most specific... the liver and the kidneys. The victims usually remained pellucid until death took them by way of monstrous foundering of the aforesaid tripes. In this dreadful doom there could be no notion grasped of covert slaying. The passing span in time would cozen those in remain, that the smitten had perhaps, taken of polluted water from some pool or stream more latterly than the potage, thus baned with the deathly kin of the common field mushrooms.

The younglings hearkened the tell. This dreadful device would indeed, be worthy of remembrance. For even standing in receipt of such tender store of summers as did they; they held no paltering fancy as to such prospect as they would embrace when they encountered The Darklings.

The encampment was broken, and the company rode onwards into the east. As with the day beforehand; the Range-Masters tutored such crafts as prevailed upon their ride. All across the Amriath plains, they rode; breaking bread in the saddle as the Sundial shadows cast in sum. As the late of after-zenith crept, they came down onto The Delvlings. Riding therethrough, the younglings were laid with further tutoring. The Range-Masters told of the cunning crafts; of which birds would sing when Darklings lay in lurk, and which would not. They told of the art of conceal in the greening. They told of tumble stakes and spike pits. The younglings hearkened to all; grasping the wise truths that one day, might well preserve their spans.

The greening thinned, and there, before them lay the City of Rhom; its golden spires a'sparkle, and the great curtain wall pale, 'gainst the soft green of the Heights of Rhyddu in the late, after-zenith sunlight. Across the last pair of leagues, there came the bright call of signal horn. The gates of Rhom yawned asunder, and here now, came Tristan and Trillan riding out to greet them. Here now, came the dawning of the tutorage of the youngling's sword skills. Tristan; as Rhom's Master of War, and Trillian; as Master of the Cavalry of Rhom would embrace the chare of tutoring the younglings at the first, as had been acceded by the High Council of The Light.

In the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere; The Golden Child... Kathalyn Seregon, and Beshlie of Calverstock were embracing the tutelage of Eldamar and Torbair of Aiuthal in the secrets of the Creed of The Knights of The Eternal Watchtower. They hearkened to the tell of Eldamar concerning The Matter of the "The Eternal Watchtower." This… the mighty, continuing battle fought betwixt The Forces of The Light, and The Forces of The Darkness. They hearkened in sombre accord to the Tell of the creeping blight of The Abyss, as Torbair spoke, thus...

'The Abyss is not a place where you might enter into, as like some wood or valley. The Abyss is not of our world. It is a part of The Great Dream of Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being." It is the opined Dark Realm of The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark." It is written in "The Scrolls of the Beginnings," called too, "The Great Dream of Creation"; that, in Her Dreaming, Elaiana came to know Herself only by gazing at Her image in the Pool of Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island; and the image of Herself was the Other of Herself. This Other, as it became real, was "Esh-Elaiana," and was also called "Baelar." Every existing thing, every living creature, every idea is influenced and affected by the Great Darkness, and cannot escape these bounds in the world that prevails about us.'

Watching the faces of the two maidens, he pursued the Tell…

'In the beginning; in her Great Dream, Elaiana imagined some part of the lands that were formed out of Chaos was a world that was lush, and green, and beautiful. She dreamed forth vessels that would one day hold the spirit of the first life to set foot upon this world... the Race of beings we now know as Algethi. She crafted these vessels with thoughtfulness and care, and gave them extraordinary beauty. Her Other Self… "Baelar", grew black with jealousy, and thirsted to imitate Elaiana. "Baelar" hastily fashioned his own vessels; resolved to best those created by Elaiana. But he would not squander the time needed to create such a Race, and so the sum of his meddle was flawed. This did not concern him at all. His creations were as 'naught to those crafted by Elaiana. Most were the malformed and crude creatures that would one day haunt the dreams of the Algethi.

When "Baelar" beheld the creations of Elaiana... these beautiful beings called Algethi; his black jealousy began to consume him. For the first time; the desire to destroy Elaiana and her Great Dream of Creation, and thus… himself; casting all back to Chaos, became an obsession. From The Abyss creepingly came The "Baelar'enin"... the Ancient Spirits who served "Baelar"; ever seeking to turn back to Evil, The Great Dream of Elaiana. Such turning would plunge all back into Chaos once more; with such Order that stood, ever then, smote down into The Darkness.'

He made pause as the maidens strove to embrace notion of this thing of which they knew 'naught. In a little while, he took up the Tell once more...

'But then, the creations of Elaiana; these beautiful beings called Algethi, had risen, confounding The "Baelar'enin", and thrusting them back to the Deep Abyss, where "Baelar", in his raging; elected to heap a terrible, Dread Avengement upon them... they who would dare to undo his Great Plan… his dreadful "Sath-Ninduru," that he would lay forth... the dread, creeping "Night of Shadows Rising." So, he smote them down with the Underdark Sorcery.

They were plucked, each and all, from out of The Dream of Elaiana, "The One," and fully shorn of her Grace. But, in this shearing, he unleashed in the Algethi, a smouldering heat of rage. A mighty battle began: This was the first bloody engagement of what would become known as "The Eternal Watchtower" How long it would rage over the pristine fields of the Dream-World of Elaiana, was not for the knowing; but it continues to this day. The Forces of The Light are ever vigilant against the creep of the evil intrigues of The Forces of The Darkness.'

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He gazed at the maidens; then spoke once again;

'So this is the sum of what besets you about. T'would seem your Destinies are forespoken, and you shall ride out in the distant, future days, one to the other. You shall bring The Darkness crashing to ruin for evermore. This is the foretelling. Thus, we shall gird you about with The Old Magic that has long since crept from remembrance in these lands. At the first; you shall now have the Cypher of The Light bestowed upon you both.'

Reaching into a pocket, he brought forth a wrapping of silken cloth. He spread the same upon the great oaken table before them. Nestling within the sumptuous, silken wrapping there lay two golden leaf jewels, pendulant upon exquisite golden chains. They bore crafting in image to the Lothluthil Rowan leaf; being the symbol of Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being."

In each leaf was set a flawless Amber, cut to a perfect roundness; being in measure, close to a Wren's egg. Beneath this gem was set a Moonstone, cut in manner the same as the Amber, yet slighter in measure. Beneath this, was set a flawless, blue Topaz, in measure the same as the Moonstone; but cut, as if, a delicate Lozenge. These three jewels were settled in a path of placement as was imagined to be the "belt" of the star cluster they called "The Hunter." The jewelled leaf was splendid beyond that which might be beheld as splendid; for here was to be seen the hand of Torbair of Aiuthal; famed Goldsmith of Elisriendell.

As the two maidens gasped, with widened eyes, at the beauty of these jewelled leaves, Eldamar lay the tell of the meaning that the golden leaves embraced.

'See before you, The Cypher of The Light. The Amber gem betokens the Sun. The Moonstone gem, as you might imagine; betokens the Moon, The Topaz gem is a differentness. It betokens "Asteth Tarsi"… The Star of the East.

"Asteth Tarsi" is the brightness that cannot be quenched by The Darkness; neither in the morning, 'nor at eventide. For, in truth; "Asteth Tarsi" is both Star of The Morning, and Star of The Evening, as she compasses the skies from the east to the west. Each gem, for its part; limns a singular manifestation of The Light. Each one is brightest in its own firmament. So shall you both be brightest in your Destinies, albeit they be close-conjoined. In this lies the whisper of The Old Magic. As foresaid; the jewels are laid in placement to echo the belt of the star cluster they call "The Hunter." So then, shall you be Hunters of The Darkness, and Chosen Daughters of The Light; and your brightness shall never be quenched by The Darkness.'

He then bade the maidens Kathalyn Seregon, called too; The Golden Child, and Beshlie of Calverstock to stand before him. Torbair of Aiuthal; "Kurwa'Tur-selu En'Ithil' Algethi "… "Craftmaster of High Moon-Magic" stood behindwards of them, and laid hand upon their shoulder. Eldamar; Lord Guardian of The Light, and too… "Tur'istar Yaara-Templa"… Craftmaster of The Old High Magic; took up the jewelled leaves and, one by the one, passed the exquisite golden chains o'er their bowed heads, and settled them upon their slender shoulders. He then laid hand upon their shoulders and spoke, in the tongue of Archaic Charybon Runic, the Cantillation of The Light, which, in the common tongue spoke thus:

"Eternal Watchtower be thy Steading,

Sword of Light, thy strength shall be.

The Dark One shall perceive with dreading

Thine behold, in summers, three.

The Oneness of The Light now spreading

all about thee, constantly,

Shall shield the path ye both be treading;

Baelar's Doom… thine Destiny."

As he so did, Torbair echoed the words in the pure tongue of The Moon-Algethi, being called "Orosta'Sindar." Here then, was the melding of The Old Magic, as spoken by Eldamar; and The Moon Magic, as spoken by Torbair.

As the last echoed word dropped, a golden beam of pure Sunlight breached the high-flung casements of the Lustrous, and Luminous Great Hall, and struck the Amber jewels in the golden leaves that lay upon the maidens' bosoms. Each Amber flared, as like, a newborn, infant sun; and, in this; both Eldamar and Torbair saw that The Benison of The Knights of The Eternal Watchtower was fully settled upon these maidens.

They saw, as if writ plain upon parchment; a difference of demeanour settle upon these two maidens as the Amber jewels flared, and cast their glitter upon the other gems inset into the golden leaf necklaces.

T'was truth, that Kathalyn Seregon, called too; The Golden Child, and Beshlie of Calverstock were embraced in the softness of their springtimes; but… here now came upon them, a significance of standing… a splendidness in sum beyond their store of summers. Here, in the Lustrous, and Luminous Great Hall, stood the two Chosen Daughters of The Light; who would, in time, tumble The Darkness to ruin; driving The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark" back into the Abyss from whence he came; never to return.

Far to the east, in distant Astalan; The Princess Laurana... she, who had prosecuted doom upon The tyrant Berenvag's Galdor Huskaars, and had come to be known by them as "The Partisan Yellow-Haired Slut," or; as they whispered, beset with fear and dreading, in their own tongue… "Vagehal Hetenloske Mahok;" had elected that the Royal Palace of Astalan that had once been the tyrant's lair, be winnowed, from the highest tower chamber to the deepest dungeon, of all chattels as might embrace remembrance of the blight of the tyrant Berenvag. All that might be garnered would be cast out into the embrace of the black belly of the Great Marsh of Rachlareth.

For the main part, this winnow held small imposition, until Gliriel; Armourer to Daeralda, Mistress-at-Arms of Amberdrove; prospected the tangle of passages and chambers beyond the undercroft, deep into the dismal bowels of the Palace.

Here were situate, the dungeons, which, in truth had been rarely employed for the purpose in the time of The King. Rather; they were used as stores and cellars. Most were empty, but there was a smell that hung about; a foulness in the air which was more than would be laid to the nose by the sweating stones of these places. As Gliriel and her companions made wary step along the warren of dark, and sullen passages all laid with scurvy, be-slimed, and broken flags; the flat, and musty smell swelled in body until it was a noisome reek. The links guttered and flickered in the foul air; casting splinters and shardings of light from off the dripping stone walls.

Before them, they beheld a great iron door, blood-red with rusting. Therein was fettled a small spying flap. T'was close-fettered with rust and could not be drawn aside. 'An they would prospect the sum of that which lay within; they needs-must breach this forsaken portal with sturdy endeavour. In wake of much shouldering, and wreak of heft and strive; suddenly, with a nerve-shredding creak and screech which set their teeth upon edge, the rime of rusting that secured the great door to its frame sundered, and a great billow of putrid, and retchworthy gust assailed them full in their faces. They squinched aback; beset with gag and retch… the links fluttered and gutted, and then, rose again.

Gliriel and her companions shouldered the great door aside and peered within. By the flicker of the links, they beheld a chamber perhaps, forty-cubits in square. Hooks and chain-dangling manacles were set to walls and floor; diverse engines of torture were scattered about the place. With wary step, they entered therein. The chamber was thick with darkness, and silent as the grave… save the rustle and squeak of rats, and the crackle of lesser vermin underfoot. The stink that encloaked them, gave them sturdy cause to retch and gag. Then; as their gaze became content to the light thrown about by the links, they beheld the horror of this place.

All about, were strewn carcasses and pieces of carcasses. Here, had countless wretches been put to death. The mouldering carcasses were all hacked and dis-limbed. Severed heads and lumps of rotting, sliming flesh lay about the reeking flags. Upon a great stone block centremost in the chamber sprawled what t'would seem, was the last victim of this hideous, and gruesome place. The head was severed in part and lolled from the neck in dangle from a few festering sinews. The carcass had been paunched; the wretch's tripes all scooped out and trailing to the floor where they had drooled their corruption as they rotted. The great slaughtering stone was gouged and notched from the striking of countless sword-edge blows, and crusted with long-dried blood and shreds of flesh… and other stains that word could not be put to. Gliriel and her companions were hard-pressed not to spew. A humour of dread had crept about them in this hideous chamber. How many forlorn victims of the tyrant Berenvag might have shrieked away the remain of their spans in this monstrous place?

Her companions bade Gliriel decamp from this place… this charnel. As she turned away, the cast of the flaring link gave faint glitter to something flung into the far corner. Girding what little remained of her courage, Gliriel made wary step betwixt the carcasses to this place. There; cast away into the shadows of the corner was a tarnished sword… and there! Its twin; the blade of which, was all sharded and scattered. She would have turned away, but; there came a whispered remembrance… a thing of which Eldamar, Lord Guardian of The Light had made moot thereof at Amberdrove after the Massacre of Sennragen, some eight-summers since passed.

Two swords were lost at the sack of Luxtan, where the Witching Mistress, Justalyn, and Eldamar's sword-brother's younglings were slaughtered. He had told that the swords were the two great swords of The Custodians of Asteth Tarsi; The Guardians of The Star of The East. It might have been that they were yet, in the ashes of Luxtan, but t'was like, as not, they had been looted by the Galdors.

The swords' character was thus: They were imposing blades; each spanning close on three-cubits from pommel to scabbard drag. The moulding of the cross-guards held two flaring subordinate guards to either side of the root of the blade. The blades were ridged from cross-guard to pointing; being double-edged in their full length, which stood close to two, and one-half cubits. Should they be seen, they should be regained from the Barbarians; for they were as close to being Swords of The Light as was any blade ever likely to be. In the clutches of the Barbarian Darklings, such power as they might hold would stand blighted and dangerous.

As she beheld the tarnished blade lying there, she saw it was the like of those swords of which The Lord Guardian had made presentment. The lands from the Royal Palace to the borders of Seuna had been scoured for these blades… and they were here, all the while. From the manner of chip and nick in the sound sword-blades' cutting edges, Berenvag's vermin had defiled these swords complete, by wielding them in the slaughtering that had manifested in this place. T'was as like, that the sharded sword had shattered upon striking the great stone as it sundered some poor wretch.

Sturdy-pressing her resolve, and forcing back her retch and gag; Gliriel crouched to draw forth the several shardings of the shattered sword from out of the stinking gruel in which they lay. She felt the keck rise in her throat as her fingers made cautious quest of the fester besetting them. She needs-must effect the most sturdy caution in this enterprise, 'less she cut herself upon some jagged edge. For if she was so misfortunate to effect the same; then what horribly gruesome ague might she be stricken with?

With gritted teeth, she gathered them all. There too, was the hilt. Bundling all in a scrap of some scurvy leathern garment that had been cast into the corner; she grasped the tarnished sword that was whole, and came back to her companions. Then, with consummate haste, they abandoned this grisly, and noisome chamber in seek of sweeter air.

Laying the tell of what prevailed below, to the Princess Laurana; still, the horror of it all prowled about them. Laurana called forth two of her maidens, each charged to go douse and purify the tarnished sword, and the hilt and shardings of the other. She elected that the awful chamber be walled up, and too… the reach of passageways for forty-cubits therefrom be further walled in. The whole; situate betwixt the raisings of these two walls was to be blocked with earth and stone, so that none might suffer such reveal as had befallen Gliriel and her companions. In this, too; those who had perished in that place would sleep the Great Sleep in solitude… for t'was said, that those who had died thus, were wont to walk abroad in the dark of the night, were the warmth of hearths and sound of bustle to fall upon their sleeping place.

At length, the swords were brought back to Laurana. She made grave study of the same. There could be no doubting; these were indeed, the two Great swords of The Custodians of Asteth Tarsi; The Guardians of The Star of The East. Word must be sent swiftly into the west, to Eldamar, Lord Guardian of The Light; apprising him of this thing.

Summer drifted softly to autumn; and in The Delvlings; the Moonflowers were now past their best as they faded in attend of their cloaking with the golden tumble of the leaves. In Calverstock; The Golden Child, Kathalyn Seregon, and Beshlie were embracing tutelage of sword-art under the guiding hand of Beshlie's mother... Staisha; once Mistress of The Riders of Lothleitha. Here, they would learn the art of mounted incursion. Here, they would master the dreadful Lothleitha sabre.

Eldamar and Torbair; having brought Kathalyn and Beshlie into the Company of The Guardians of The Light, and too... instated them as the Chosen Daughters of The Light within the Fellowship of The Knights of The Eternal Watchtower; now made seek of Elshore at the Calverstock Forge. They had been apprised that Elshore had accomplished the meld fettle of the swords at Arlanronde, and had returned here to his forge at Calverstock for the subtle art of fettle and forge. For, in truth, the forge at Arlanronde had lain too long in abandonment. The need was to tear down the whole and raise it anew; so, Elshore had returned to Calverstock.

They entered the forge and beheld Elshore bellowing the forge-bed in sturdy accord, with the one hand; whilst the other held steady the tongs about that, which stood plain to the eye as a Long-sword. He looked up and bestowed them with a wry grin.

'Fair morrow, My Lords; you squandered slender span in passing in journey; but, as you behold… I have her in fair fettling as we speak.'

Eldamar glanced at Torbair with bemused countenance. Torbair shrugged his shoulders. Eldamar spoke.

'Fair morrow to you, old friend. I fear you hold me in befuddle; for I know not of what you speak.'

Elshore gazed at them.

'Why; I speak of the lost swords… the Great Swords of The Custodians of Asteth Tarsi; The Guardians of The Star of The East, that have recent come from out the east at the behest of The Princess Laurana of Astalan. They have been brought to my hand by the Shadaiians as sad ruins of blades, but they will prevail as they ever were. 'Nay; they shall be better; for I shall enchant them with the Olistalix-Bane sprinkle, as I so did with "Alasse Nenharma"…. Cirion's Blade of The Light. Beyond this; I shall meld in a golden Rowan leaf charm. This shall be my singular task, for I warrant these swords shall be the ones that the youngling Beshlie and The Golden Child shall carry as they ride out. They shall be yet one more master-forging, and soon enough, shall they take them to hand; for even now, they sharpen their sword skills in the tutoring square as we speak.'

Eldamar stood for a slender span in lack of voice. T'was thought that these swords were forever lost. Now, here was the one… but what of the other? He pressed Elshore to lay the tell of such that he knew.

Elshore told that a little beyond a handful of moons since passed, there were seen three great eagles standing into Calverstock from out of the southerly east. One bore a leathern bundle clasped firmly in its talons. The three eagles flew down and made settlement with the common ground within the palisade. Then, as one; they made shape-shift and there stood three Shadaiian Wraith-Hunters. They made eloquent greeting to Callam who had been brought forth in haste; and laid the leathern bundle upon him. Unwrapping the same; he beheld two swords. One was all tarnished and chipped; the other was, but hilt and shardings. The tale that the Shadaiians told was this…

Since the great slaughter of the Horanaurks, it had been their leader, Archernan's humour to have his Wraith-Hunters range the Outlands to near, and far. The purpose for this was two-fold. Purpose… the first; was to keep a watch far beyond the Enchanted Girdle for fresh lurk and prowl of Darklings. Purpose… the second, was by reason that the Shadaiians sport of choose was the slaughter of Wraiths. For not some little time in passing; the Forest of Raventhorn Scar had stood, most singular lacking in their prey. Such Wraiths as were thought there to remain in the dank, and shadowed glades, were consummately vexsome to bring to the blade. But; the notion of prowling vermin out to the east that they might make blade-sport with; was a bright promise to be relished. So; Shadaiians commonly compassed the Outlands; even as far as Astalan.

One Shadaiian had come down upon Amberdrove as he ranged the eastern Realms. He had been thought of as Darkling, and had been arrow-struck as he overflew. When the maidens of Amberdrove had perceived their misdeem; the Shadaiian had been tended with great care and concern. An accord had blossomed betwixt the Shadaiian who was called by name: Galathin, and the Amberdrove maidens. As the summer wandered, Galathin embraced habit of standing down to Amberdrove those times he drew closely thereto. Here, a further harmony blossomed betwixt him and one Amberdrove maiden, in particular. She was called by name: Cailyn. She had been one of the first of the Partisan maids of Amberdrove, and now, was settled as Mistress of Crossbow to Princess Laurana.

T'was Galathin who carried the tell of the chancing upon of the swords to the ears of Archernan, and of the behest of Princess Laurana that they should be brought into the west. The Master of Raventhorn commanded that Galathin rested for the span of one moon, and then set forth for Astalan with two sturdy companions. Archernan laid counsel that perhaps, they should think to progress in shape-shift as "Tur'Arvandor" eagles.

The "Tur'Arvandor" eagle was the mightiest of all eagles in the known world. It had no other name save that, by which it was called; which in the tongue of the Shadaiians betokened "Master of The Heavens." This magnificent creature possessed in measure of span of wing, beyond six cubits from feather tip to feather tip. It was seldom espied; and even when it was; then, t'was as 'naught, but a speck in the skies. It rode the heavens beyond a pair of leagues in deeping; soaring upon wide-spread, scarce-beating wings for league upon league.

Embracing such shape-shift; Galathin and his comrades could compass the Plain of Malphaers and beyond, with scarce a whisper of pother, 'nor toil. So it was; on the second morning, Galathin and his comrades came from out of the Forest of Raventhorn Scar and stood upon the open plain of the Yeranoor Shadowlands. They looked; one to the other and Galathin nodded. As one, the three made shape-shift into the mighty "Tur'Arvandor" eagles and lifted away into the skies; turning to the east as they rose higher and higher, until they were 'naught, but three dark specks in the endless blue of that soft, late-summer morn.

The flight to Astalan had expended two moons. As they had passed high above Rhyddu, they had perceived the sinister black nebulosities that were the Shadow-Wraiths, making flit and prowl all along the watchtowers of Rhyddu. A covey of these repellent beings had disjoined the common lurk and clambered up the skies in baleful pursuit. Alas, in their malignant endeavour, they were undone.

The air was thin where the "Tur'Arvandor" eagles flew. The Shadow-Wraiths could not prevail in clasp of form and were spun away in eddy and swirl; thinning to drifting tendrils all tugged and sundered by the sturdy winds that howled high above the Plain of Malphaers.

The Shadaiians had progressed on, and met 'naught to confound their flight. Taking turn to sleep upon the wing, they came down upon Amberdrove in the Forest of Aldreth by the soft of the evening of the second day. They made settle in the great, open courtyard all paved with great flagstones, before the Hall. The Amberdrove maidens held them in surround; wary of these mighty creatures. As one; Galathin and his comrades made shape-shift to their true form. The maidens clustered them; eyes full of surprise and wonderment. Here now, came Cailyn… shouldering through the throng; standing to Galathin and kissing him fair. The moment was broken, and the maidens made press to his companions, besetting them with eager chatter and brabble… and not a few sidelong glances from beneath coyly lowered lashes.

Cailyn told that the Princess Laurana had bid Daeralda, Mistress-at-Arms of this company to bestow full hospitality on those who would come. They were to be afforded all benevolence in Amberdrove. As they repaired to the Hall to take food and drink; Galathin made regard of his comrades. 'Aye, they were sturdy fellows; would they, he wondered, still embrace their solemnly cold, and unforgiving demeanour for which Shadaiians were renown… in hinder of these eagerly chattering maidens' bestowal of their benevolence? With a secret, wry smile, he laid arm about the waist of his Cailyn, and walked her to the Hall.

On the morrow; Galathin and his comrades bid farewell to the maidens of Amberdrove, and with covenant of tender sentiment laid that the Shadaiians would pass this way again; they shape-shifted into "Tur'Arvandor" eagles once again,and with the swords bundled into a leathern wrapment, and talon clutched; they rose into the heavens, turning away into the west. They had ranged across the Plain of Malphaers, passing the wrapment from one to the other as each carrier became beset with weariness; and had slept upon the wing, as before.

Ranging to westerly held, though, a benefic advantage. The sturdy winds that howled above the Plain of Malphaers… those that had sundered the Shadow-Wraiths, as the Shadaiians were outwardly bound; now bestowed upon them swifter passage and the means by which they might hold glide in far sturdier sum of reach than before. In this, they came over Rhyddu in little more than the passing of one, and one-half moons.

They had thought to stand down at Rhom, but Archernan had held surmise that the Forge-Master of Elisriendell… he who was called by name: Elshore; would be at the garrison of Calverstock. Galathin had spurred his comrades on for the last pair of leagues, though they were all bone-weary and in wont of victuals. At last, as they drifted across the canopy of The Delvlings, there came to their sighting, the clearing wherein lay Calverstock. They had spread tail feathers to cast off pace and had settled to the common ground within the palisade.

For a little while they had made slump; their beaks agape as they made panting. Then; drawing upon the remain of their mettle; as one, they made shape-shift to their true form. Even in this; they yet embraced such sum of grace to make eloquent greeting to Callam, who had come forth at swift pace to elicit what had come to passing. The tell of the swords had been laid; the leathern bundle had been opened, and the swords brought forth into the light. Elshore had been summoned, and bidden carry them to his forge and set about their fettle in lack of tarry or linger.

Elshore drew the glowing blade from out the heart of the forge-bed and moved to his anvil. Raising his hammer, he began to lay onto the blade. As the sparklets leaped, he spoke over his shoulder…

'And that, My Lords, is the sum of tell of how these ancient swords came to my hand. The one is beyond fettle; but she may be re-birthed by marrying her hilt to a fresh blade. This one…'

He nodded to the blade he was fettling,

'This one shall be as fair as the day she was first forged. T'will embrace the span of a moon waxing and waning; for the blade edges are sorely spoiled; even as if she has been employed in the hewing of stone.'

Torbair was making study of the hilt of the ruined and sharded sword. The pommel was crafted of solid metal in shape of an acorn. He spoke to Elshore as he moved from his anvil to the forge.

'Elshore; canst carve fair, this pommel in like manner as Lord Callam's blade? For methinks the Eyestone I possess for the choose of Beshlie will lie snug into such a setting.'

Elshore thrust the blade into the white heart of the forge-bed and made respond.

'Aye, My Lord; that is small imposition. You shall require the cutting of a lozenge pocket and plug in the pommel, to boot? Then it shall be so done. Whilst we tarry on this issue, I have elected to lay double fuller along the blade. This is a Long-sword and embraces a sturdy weighting. The maid shall find a more pliant wield 'an the blade be abated in sum of cumber in this manner… and t'will not enfeeble the weapon.'

Torbair nodded assent.

'Then fettle it so, Master Elshore. If I might; I shall take measure of this blade, and repair at length to my worksteading to fashion a scabbard… for I espy none about this place.'

Elshore drew the blade from out the forge-bed and moved towards his anvil; saying,

'T'is the truth; there were no scabbards found, and this blade shall surely have need of the same.'

Content with this issue, Eldamar and Torbair bade farewell to Elshore and betook themselves from the forge, to seek out the tutoring square whereto Kathalyn and Beshlie were sharpening their sword skills under the watchful gaze of Callam's Master-at-Arms. The maidens were striking and parrying blow for blow with wooden swords. Soon enough, would they take metal blade to hand; but, for now, they would master these strokes and defences in scatheless accord. At worst, all they would embrace should one or the other misreckon, or lay slovenly guard; would be welt and blemish.

As they watched, Eldamar and Torbair were not a little awed by the celerity of the maidens as they skirmished in the tutoring square. Kathalyn possessed the instinct of her mother; there!... that sweep of blade… the same sweep Eldamar had seen in the first Horanaurk Naigias they had come upon in Astalan; when Artanis had laid a vicious, sweeping stroke to the Horanaurk; bursting asunder his belly and tumbling his entrails out of him. The Wiccen Rede Death Blow, as it was called; and now, his daughter had effected the very same stroke. Was this a thing that her mother had taught her? Or was this a presage of something else?

Beshlie though; embraced another manner of sword skill. Her posture was elegant and deadly. Here was no sweep, 'nor thrust. She favoured a downsweeping hew… a Cavalry trait as would be employed, were she a'horseback. Here could be plainly seen the mentoring of her mother Staisha; once Mistress of The Riders of Lothleitha. Staisha's peerless esteem with the Cavalry sabre was widely acclaimed; and Beshlie was swift in the strike… frighteningly swift. The Master-at-Arms came forward to Eldamar and Torbair; a great smile besetting his countenance, and laid opine.

'My Lords, there is little nicety of sword-art that I might lay upon these two little vixens. For in truth; by 'naught more than intuition, they embrace the sword skills of The Old Ways; and, as you well know; when you have need to butcher your foe, why then, you fall back upon the Old Ways. There is little purpose in striving to tutor them in the frivolous sword disciplines, for these pair are truly warrior maids even before they fully embrace their womanhood.'

Eldamar and Torbair cast glance, each to the other, and thence back to Callam's Master-at-Arms. Eldamar spoke;

'You would not fancy to beset us with puffery by cause that Kathalyn is my daughter? For much will yet stand or fall on how these two maids will acquit themselves with blade whence they affront their Destiny.'

The Master-at-Arms furnished Eldamar a wry grin.

'Nay, My Lord; I offer no puffery. These two have the instinct. This cannot be taught. Those who are so favoured are born with it. I have seen many who possess the same; but these two possess it in surfeit. These two pretty maidens will become in time, peerless Mistresses of blade; and I, for my part, would not behest crossing blade with either were it in seethe.'

This sentiment gave Torbair premise for lengthy muse and ponder. Might it be that the Balance of The Light was girding itself about in readiness for the thing which The Lord Laumil, Council Master of Elisriendell had given to naming "The Advent of the End of the Shining Days?" For, in truth, these younglings were Guardians-in-waiting, and Guardians of The Light embraced a martial valour. This tell of the Master-at-Arms whispered of something other than such accepted demeanour. Was the nature of The Light changing? Was The Dark Lord so reckless as to plot to bring all crashing down to ruin? And, if so… would Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being," cause these two Chosen Daughters of The Light to ride out in humour as deadly as any predator; to confound such reckless hate? And Torbair shivered; as if a grey goose had, at this moment, flown over his grave.

As the maidens pursued their skirmish, Torbair walked across the common ground of Calverstock with Eldamar. He saw too, that Eldamar was troubled by what had been said. He made to speak, but Eldamar stayed him.

'I know of what you are about to say, old friend. You have felt the foretoken of what Laumil has called "The Advent of the End of the Shining Days." The shadows are beginning to gather close about us once more. I must away to Rhom to attest the tutelage of the remain of the youngling Guardians. But, now; I needs must tell you this: I have; for some span in passing… felt a tremor in The Light. The Dark Lord is weaving a tangle of intrigue as we speak. Methinks, somewhere… he sets a viper into our bosom, but I cannot presage the whereto, or the whereby. Get you back into the west and make prepare that, which will bring the great Sword of The Custodians of Asteth Tarsi into The Light. For t'is certain-sure that the sands of our time in remain are hastening to their dooming, and Beshlie of Calverstock may yet stand petition for her blade beforehand than we might have hoped. I shall ride Kathalyn and Beshlie to Rhom, where they might hone their sword skills under the hand of Tristan and Trillian.'

Torbair nodded and called swiftly for horse. Mounting up; he bid farewell to his old comrade and galloped out of Calverstock garrison, heading into the west, bound away to Elisriendell.