Chapter One.

Alcina, Mistress of the Farmstead of Falan.

The old storyteller sat once again, in the great Gathering Hall of Calverstock. The winter snows lay thick about the enclosure of the stout palisade wall that compassed the garrison. The bitter winds whimpered about the bratticing, whipping the powdered snow into the faces of those who had not yet accomplished the peaty warmth of the Gathering Hall. There was little sign of the creep of spring through The Delvlings, this new season. The snow lay drifting amidst the trees, all thick and deep; and the curtains of light that sometimes danced in the northern night skies were to be seen much further to the south... even unto Calverstock itself. Clutching their cloaks tighter about themselves, they made icy plod towards the Hall to hearken to The Tell from out of the volumes of The Tarsius of Amriath.

The old storyteller, Rhynam; once Master of the Nemesis of Lothluthil... the dreaded Night fighters from out of Elisriendell; sat in his usual place by the great hearth, with the great, leather-bound volumes of The Tarsius of Amriath all tooled about with Leaf of Gold - by age, now fading dim; laid upon the table by his side. He had laid forth the tell of the Prologue from out of Volume… The First, surrounded by the garrison younglings whom he held firm in his spell, as he wove his tales.

This Prologue, as previously foretold; was scribed as a gathering of sleeping time tales, so the frightening truths contained within the Volumes might not affright the younglings in their slumber. Here were tales of Imagining, of Mystery and Fable. Such wonders he had woven about them, and wide-eyed, they had listened as they drank in the Magic... these tales of such things that the grown-ups no more, understood. He told tales of Wizards and Warriors, of Dragons and Princes; of Fair maidens and Unicorns, of Darklings and Ogres... the simple told difference betwixt Goodness and Evil.

Now, the younglings had been taken to their beds… as ever, in sturdy cavil that they were not tired; and with them gone… now would come the truths of the Volumes. He reached for his old silver tankard, which, as always, was filled to the brim... but not with Algethimeade, these nights. 'Nay; now his tankard was 'plenished with a meld of Algethimeade and Glow-fire. For the cold of winter still caused him fair discomfort in his shoulder. This was the memento from the piercing blow of a Horanaurk Kelek-Bersker spike out on the Plain of Malphaers, at the Siege of Rhom. He was tended, as ever, by the young Algethi maid who had brim-filled his tankard since he had taken upon himself the mantle of storyteller. Two summers since, he had taken bond with her, and their living was good. She was called by name: Laury, and had borne him a son… Erbin; who, even now, tusselled and tumbled with a pair of white staghound pups at his feet.

The Minstrels were coming to the end of the songs of the Heroes, and the time of the Tell was drawing nigh. Laury came to fill again his tankard and having so done, placed a flask of Glow-fire upon the table beside him; lifted up Erbin onto her hip, and took her place amongst the assembled company.

Rhynam gazed about the Gathering Hall. He perceived his sister Staisha… beautiful Staisha; once Lead Rider of the Sisterhood of Lothleitha, who now… since her shattered sword-arm… though fair mended… held not her old power of dexterity with the Algethi Sabre... and Cuchulain, Churgeon to Tristan, Master of War at Rhom, had resolved that perhaps, it never again would… was Mistress of Calverstock; sweetly bonded to Callam, and mother of two fine daughters. She sat in her place with Callam; all pale, golden hair and forget-me-not blue eyes, and Rhynam gazed upon her and breathed a covert sigh of palliation that she was out of harm's way at last.

From the opening doorway there came a gust of icing wind which stirred the peat smoke from the great hearth, as he, whom they had waited upon, shouldered into the embosoming warmth of the Gathering Hall. Eldamar, Lord Guardian of The Light stood in the Hall shaking the snow from off his cloak. With him were The Lady Artanis and their younglings. Tharlan stood tall beside his father; being in receipt of close on a score or so, of summers; holding well above four cubits in standing. He possessed eyes; the like of his mother… a deep emerald green, and his hair was the hue of ripe horse chestnuts.

His half-sister, Kathalyn… The Golden Child, stood beside her mother. She was now in receipt of close on ten and six summers. She was slender of waist, and fair of bosom and hip. She stood tall and imperious; being some three and three-quarter cubits in standing. Her hair was pale blonde, with a whisper of the hue of woodland strawberries; and fell in tumbling waves about her shoulders. But, it was her eyes that held all in the hall as if spellbound. The hue of her eyes had prevailed from the promise of her infancy… a shimmery greenish-blue; as like, the throat of a pheasant on a fine summer's day. Her skin held the flawless bloom of the Shah'Algethi… also called Aure'Algethi... The Golden, or Sunrise Algethi; Highborn and Noble… the purest of all. And, in this, was a conundrum unmasked.

Eldamar was common Algethi, as too had been his father, Calamar… Hammer of Astalan; Algethi Lord of Eldanore; Lord Guardian of The Light. So, the lineage of Shah'Algethi must come from Kathalyn's mother, Artanis Seregon; once Cabal Mistress of the Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel.

Here then, the Circle of Amriath had softly turned again. For as has been previously told in the Tell of The Volumes; Eldamar's first bond-mate, Mirien Goldenwand, was far beyond simple Algethi. She too, was Shah'Algethi. All through their togetherness, she had said nothing. She elected that she was, but, Algethi; and this… a soft game for her to play. For she had bonded far below her standing to a common young Algethi Guardian. But this mattered not, for their love overcame all, and each to the other, they filled with delight.

So; with Artanis, it would seem, that which had gone before was standing in the recur. The Lord Guardian of The Light, t'would seem, was ever destined to hold bond with a maid who was Shah'Algethi. Further, such issue of bond would stand always, as Guardians of The Light. In this reveal stood plain such things as had puzzled Eldamar. He had sensed that Artanis Seregon was embraced by something beyond than the gift of simple leadership and warrior boldness, that first day he had beheld her at Bradda. He had gazed upon her, and found her a most comely, and stirring vision.

He had disputed with her, his remaining at Bradda as he fretted of his quest, but had looked into the green eyes of Artanis Seregon and saw there, the doom of any argument he might think to lay upon her before he might have chance to lay it. He had seen it was naught but wasted breath to palter words with this magnificent creature; t'was as futile as making water in the teeth of the wind.

He had not been able to lay finger upon this thing that beset her round at that time, but now, t'was as plain as the lines upon his hand. At some place in her lineage, Artanis Seregon had embraced the virtues of Shah'Algethi. She had never laid tell of this; perhaps, she embraced no knowing of the same. Nonetheless, it stood plain… as if writ large upon parchment, in the mien of her beautiful daughter.

A hush fell about the great Gathering Hall as all there, beheld the incomers; then, the hush was sundered by a great clamouring of welcome. The Gatherment of Oimelc was now complete. Sturdy oaken chairs were thrust forward so that Eldamar and Artanis, and the younglings might take of their ease in the company of the Master of Calverstock: Callam, and his Lady Staisha. Greetings were laid all about, and food and drink brought forth.

The old storyteller, Rhynam, nodded his greetings to The Lord Guardian of The Light; and too, to Artanis and the younglings. He reached for his silver tankard and partook of a sturdy draught. Moving closer to the hearth, he drew forth Volume, the Third of The Tarsius of Amriath; leather-bound; as of its kin-pair, and tooled about with Leaf of Gold - still bright in the soft flicker of the great honey-wax candles. He opened the volume and raised his reading-stone above the vellum page. The great Gathering Hall fell silent as he began the Tell.

After the discovery of the destruction of Bradda and the slaughter of the Cabal maids of the Wiccen Rede; stern, and sombre discourse had been laid concerning the closing of the Pass of Hestrus, where was laid ominous presumption that therein, prevailed some portal to the Underdark. Eldamar and Torbair of Aiuthal had elected that they would progress this baleful defile, there to lay the ancient, binding enchantment garnered from the Great Tarsius of Yeranoor. This was a spell casting of The Old Magic; an ancient Charybon device, called by name: "Aelondrae en'Rembina"… "The Enigma of Confinement"; which once laid, would compass the supposed portal, and none within the place where it was raised, might come forth.

However, Eldamar was resolved that, at the first; the need was for an incurse deep into the Arfeiniel downlands to bring out the sister of Artanis's mother, the Mistress Alcina from the distant Farmstead of Falan…'an she yet prevailed. In truth, he held not a sturdy hope of this; Shadow-Wraiths were predative in their thirst for Charas, and The Mistress Alcina and her Farmstead were unprotected. Nonetheless, they would venture a deliverance, if only for the sake of Artanis. Such an endeavour would not thus, be raised until The Golden Child was birthed. Eldamar would not countenance another chance incursion of minions of The Darkness, as had betided in the matter of his second bond-mate, The Lady Arlanna of Fionndell.

So it was; he remained at Arlanronde for the reach of the turning of the spring and the summer, until on the eve of the lighting of the Lammas fires, The Golden Child was birthed. Now, she could be held safe and secure from all harm in the Stronghold of Arlanronde. Here, she could gather her first sum of moons surrounded by caring company. Here she was protected by a great, and powerful Enchantment. Here, no Darkling shade might hope to neither meddle 'nor confound the blooming of this freshest, and most precious Flower of the West. The time for laying the doom of entrapment upon the Pass of Hestrus was waxing slender. Soon enough would come gusting the chill breath of winter from out of the grey, flinty mountains.

Heedful of this, Eldamar had flown out a despatch to Torbair of Aiuthal, entreating him to ride out of Elisriendell with all haste to Arlanronde to progress this endeavour. At the same time, he flew out a despatch to Calverstock, in askance of Callam to bring out three gryphons to his hand. Flying gryphons to Arfeiniel would more than quarter the span in passing of riding thereto. As he watched the Merlin carry the despatch into the east, Eldamar laid earnest hope that this envisage of deliverance of the Mistress Alcina was not, even now, too late in the aspire.

The following morning, at about the eighth turn of Sundial-shadow, the Garrison Range-Master captain hastened to the dwelling chambers and laid tell to Eldamar that there had been seen a clutch of dark shapes standing in from the east. Eldamar gazed from the casement across the plains of Amriath. There! A pair of leagues distant; three fine gryphons inbound from Calverstock. They came on fleetly; their great dragon wings beating in easy accord. Eldamar peered to make out who rode the lead. T'was not Callam, for blonde hair streamed in the early sunlight. T'was Staisha! She overflew the Great Hall and brought the gryphons down into the closure of Arlanronde. Making dismount, she hurried to the Great Hall where she was met by Eldamar. Making fond greetings; she entreated to be taken in all haste, to The Golden Child; for she had not, as yet seen the infant; and bore a gift from Calelindi.

Eldamar left the gryphons in the charge of the Range-Master captain, and conveyed Staisha to the presence of Artanis and the infant. Laying gaze upon the infant, Staisha began, as all females will do with the newly born; to cluck about her; like, as if, some mother hen. Eldamar quietly took his leave of these swaddlesome females and stood down to the closure to take stock of the gryphons. He saw that the Range-Master captain was guardedly standing some distance apart from these creatures who regarded him with watchful ruby eyes. He saw too that they were fully harnessed and saddled, and that they bore upon their taloned paws, devices of a glittering metal sheathing their talons… as like, some minstrel's sandals. Curious devices indeed! He saw too, that they wore breastplates of mail, and each was in receipt of a collar beset with the likeness of a Golden leaf. Eldamar had seen none of this array besetting any gryphon in the past, and resolved to elicit the tell of this newness from Staisha. He repaired abovestairs to where the females were cooing over the infant, and drew Staisha aside, laying upon her the require of tell. She smiled, and spoke thus:

'What you have here, my Lord, are not common gryphons. These are handpicked from the brood of Calverstock by Callam, himself. These are skirmishing gryphons; they are bold and merciless. They are brought to being by mating together certain gryphons that manifest truculent demeanours. The mail breastplates and talon sheaths were crafted by Elshore in the forge of Calverstock. The talon sheathings are of Leissor and are enchanted in manner the same as the Guardian Swords. The Golden leaf collars are a device of Calelindi; they are images of the Lothluthil Rowan leaf, being the symbol of Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being." Calelindi entreated that I apprise you that should you encounter Shadow-Wraiths on your endeavour, these gryphons have the wherewithal to sunder them to shreds and tatters. You, and the Lord Torbair shall fly the ominous lands embraced in the dreaming of Elaiana... "The One" and you shall prevail.'

As she spoke, there came the sound of feet running up the great winding staircase. The door was thrust open, and there stood Torbair. In receipt of the despatch, he had bidden farewell to his Ithilwen Silverleaf, and had galloped the night in reckless abandon over the evil, and precarious roads through the deep autumn-drift forests of Elisriendell. He had ridden by the pale light of a cloud-flitting, waning harvest moon and a few cold stars. His thunder of gallop had echoed the forest, and now he stood at Arlanronde ready to lay one more measure of discomfit upon the ambitions of The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark."

He gazed at the infant, and he smiled. He reached into his jerkin and brought forth one of his peerlessly crafted gems. This gem was set in a pale Rose-gold; tinged with the faintest, and most delicate pinkness… close in hue to woodland strawberries. The Gem it embraced was a shimmering, greenish-blue lozenge that most perfectly matched the eyes of Kathalyn Seregon, Infant of The Light. This was a rare, and precious jewel; shimmery greenish-blue... as like, the throat of a pheasant on a soft summer's day. It came from far away beyond the distant bounds of the Western seas; and Torbair called it Labradorite. Once more, Torbair of Aiuthal, famed Goldsmith of Elisriendell had outshone himself in this wondrously exquisite birthing gift.

Staisha made rummage in her bodice and brought forth the gifts from Calelindi. She held forth two delicate golden images of the Lothluthil Rowan leaf; being the symbol of Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being;" embellished with delicately crafted golden chains from which they lay pendulant… chains that were the image of that from which, the Gem of Torbair prevailed. One image was to be gifted to Kathalyn Seregon, Infant of The Light; the other to her brother, Tharlan. Here could be seen… and no need for the suppose… that this was a subterfuge hatched betwixt Staisha and Torbair, who at the least, had the good grace to look not a little abashed at this reveal.

Eldamar though, had regarded Staisha as she had rummaged. Was there not to be seen, a gentle swelling to her belly? She was mother to a beautiful daughter… Beshlie, who now held a tender span of three summers. Was she with child, yet again? She saw Eldamar's gaze upon her and resolved to lay the truth. 'Aye, she was with child; she held intuition it were a girl-child… to be birthed, round and about the coming Beltane.

Great felicitations gathered about the chamber at this reveal. Eldamar wondered; would the next descent of Guardians all be female, save for Tharlan? If this were the truth of it, then woes betide those minions of The Darkness in the times, as yet, distant and far away. For in truth, the females were more terrible than the males; they would stop at naught to preserve the Munificence of The Light for their offspring. It was, as like, with Guardians such as these, that Amriath would never know the thrall of the Next Age of Darkness.

Such musing was though, for times that were as yet, but distant, future days. Torbair had brought the parchment whereon was scribed the likeness of the spell casting of The Old Magic; the ancient Charybon device, called by name: "Aelondrae en'Rembina"… "The Enigma of Confinement," gleaned from out of the Great Tarsius of Yeranoor; that they would invoke round and about the Pass of Hestrus. Staisha elected that she would remain at Arlanronde for the span in passing that they were away. One more sword… albeit her shattered sword-arm, which, 'though mended, held not her old power of dexterity with the Algethi Sabre; would still be to advantage were anything to betide them whilst Eldamar was away to the east.

There was small span in passing to squander; so it was, Eldamar bid farewell to Artanis and the company, and strapping his mighty Guardian sword "Eitheltuil Eledhwen"… in short, spoke: "Eithelhwen"... "Wellspring of Algethi Light," about himself; swiftly progressed to the closure where the gryphons attended. Torbair was already in saddle; Eldamar saw that he too, wore a great sword. He had not seen Torbair so armed in the past, and laid question of the blade. Torbair smiled; a quiet, and cold smile, then spoke…

'No reason that you would have seen this blade in times passed. I do not wear her except in times of dire adversity. She is a blade of the Old Moon-Magic from out of the fabled forge of the Arms-Mistress, Lorien who crafted the swords of the first Guardians, deep in the Singing Woods of Lothluthil. She has slept for many summers, but now, her time is at hand. She is, by name, called "Lossehelin Ruthuviel"… or, as you would say in the common tongue; "The Shadow of The Unicorn Horn." She is forged from many foldings of Leissor and Adamaunte, and was quenched, t'is said, by Mistress Lorien in the Great Mere of Lothluthil on the Eve of Litha, two thousand summers since passed. She holds a power beyond even that of "Alasse Nenharma," Queen Cirion's Great sword of The Light, called too, "Shining Slaughter." She is of The Old Moon Magic, and none of these Darkling vermin that now infest our Realms may stand against her. She is imbued with all the knowing of all of the Craftmasters of Moon-Algethi Magic from out of the Singing Woods of Lothluthil that have ever been. The hour of The Knights of The Eternal Watchtower is at hand, old friend; so, come now, let us away upon our endeavour.'

Eldamar gazed at the great sword with something like awe besetting his countenance. The beautiful Moon-Algethi, Lorien; Forge-Mistress of Lothluthil, t'was whispered in legend; had first forged the fearsome and mighty sword, "Shadowcleaver"… "The Shredder of Taraks"... the great, two-handed sword of his father, Calamar… Hammer of Astalan; Lord of Eldanore; and Lord Guardian of The Light.

"Lossehelin Ruthuviel" held three cubits reach in blade, and slept in a glittering black Adamaunte scabbard 'bellished with a rearing Unicorn fashioned in pale gold, at its throat. Here to be seen was the hand of Torbair of Aiuthal, famed Goldsmith of Elisriendell. The grip of the sword was fashioned in manner of the spiral of a Unicorn horn; and firm-pommelled at its reach was a great, flawless Moonstone. Torbair drew her from her sleeping, and her blade shimmered in the morning sunlight.

In the depths of her blade could be perceived a lustrous, rainbow-like play of colour; seeming, from the folding and melding of the many leaves of Leissor and Adamaunte. Eldamar had never seen the like; Elshore, his Master Sword-smith had never crafted such a blade, and he was the finest in all Amriath. Torbair smiled,

'Aye, she is beautiful; as t'is said, was her maker… Lorien. But, enough! Come now, let us away.’

And he sheathed "Lossehelin Ruthuviel" with a soft, glissing sound.

Eldamar mounted the gryphon, which, as, with its kin-mount of Torbair, spread its great dragon wings and rose into the skies. The third, un-ridered gryphon followed on in throng. Below them, the Stronghold of Arlanronde grew diminishing small as the gryphons settled into their flight into the east. The plains of Amriath rolled away the leagues far below, and soon, there to their right-most hand lay the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere beset by the golden meadows now fading in fallow; looking for all the world like some youngling's plaything set upon some sandy shore. The gryphons flew on; majestic, sedate… with never the hint 'nor tell that they were peerless killers.

Within the passing of a pair of Sundial shadow spans, they overflew The Delvlings. There, in the great clearing, lay Calverstock, and a little beyond to easterly, the honeyed walls and golden spires of Rhom came to their sighting. Eldamar and Torbair held their prospect of ride. They would not turn into the north to compass Lorenfalu; rather... they would overfly the Heights of Rhyddu, and cross the northerly reaches of the Plain of Malphaers. This would garner to advantage no small sum in passing, but would lay them open to the most dreadful peril. For now, they were beyond the Enchanted Girdle. Here, they were prey to marauding Shadow-Wraiths.

Far below them as they progressed Malphaers, still, the whimpering eternal winds spun in eddies, the thin dust of the plain. Before them, a thin, dark line came to their sight, stretching away to the distant horizon, where, if they made scour with hard gaze; could be traced the blue line that were the hills of Astalan. This was sighting, the first, of the Chasm of Malphaers. The Blue Ice Mountains of Shandalar reared to their left-most hand, and soon enough, would they espy the Vale of Windlemoss.

They flew on, watchful now, 'though as yet, there was no sign of 'aught to mar their progress. The gryphons flew strongly; the day was fine. Eldamar and Torbair rode content in their fellowship. They flew to the south of the Chasm of Malphaers… all the better to behold the northernmost flank as they advanced deeper into the east. Distantly, to their left-most hand, lay the tumble of Windlemoss Crag Fort; and beyond, the rise of the Hills of Tillethmhor marching eastwards towards their goal of Arfeiniel. At such pace that the gryphons flew, soon enough would they see below them the first of the victuals caches… the tumble of stones from whence Eldamar had replenished his stock of rations as he rode for Astalan. See… there it lay.

With regard to the stand of the sun, Eldamar prevised that the gryphons were accomplishing Malphaers in measure of some five, and forty leagues to each span of something akin to three Sundial-shadows. From this, he laid deem that, by zenith, they would accomplish the place where he had encountered the Riders of Doom, and little Feawen Arcamen, Keeper of The Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel. He strove to thrust such remembrance of Feawen from out of his thoughts; for if he held the same in sorrowful reflection; he knew full-well, that such ponder would meddle with his watchfulness… and such meddle could prove ruinous in this minacious tract of Malphaers.

A little beyond the rise of zenith, Eldamar beheld the lonesome cairn far below. It stood sturdy on the causeway of Malphaers; it had not tumbled, for he had built it well. Little Feawen Arcamen would sleep safe, the Great sleep in that silent place, with 'naught but the whimper of the wind as her lullaby. Torbair had watched Eldamar as they flew over that place. He saw the sadness embrace his old friend, and as they sped on, he turned in saddle, and, beyond Eldamar's sight; quietly stretched out his hand and whisperingly laid the Benison of En'Ithil'Algethi… the Blessings of the Moon-Algethi, upon that little lonesome cairn.

Soon enough, they would turn to the northerly west, to broach Arfeiniel. Here, the peril would lie fat; here they would, as like, encounter the Shadow-Wraiths. A little beyond the third reach of Sundial-shadow from zenith, they turned into the north and then, into the west. A pair of leagues beyond the swell of the Hills of Tillethmhor, they spied the ancient Bridge of Herlin and the throat of the Vale of Cleigh, down which lay the desolation of Bradda. There; some two leagues to northerly east lay the maw of the Pass of Hestrus, ominously shadowed, and mist-bewreathed, 'though the day was fine. Torbair spoke swiftly,

'Methinks we shall stand down without the Pass in lack of delay, and make step therein in covert assemblage. This will free the gryphons to stand sentinel unencumbered, should there be shades in lurk. This is a sound ploy, for these gryphons are beset with a malice for all things Darkling, even beyond that which was embraced by the Lokis of Storien-Rhudd when they held such form under the bludgeon of The Dread Imposition.’

So it was; they stood down and made dismount in the very throat of the Pass of Hestrus. As they made careful foray within, the shadowing mist wrapped itself about them like a winding sheet. T'was exceedingly vexsome to discern a safe advancement... so deep was the glim.

Torbair drew his sword, and spoke word in the Ancient Tongue of The Singing Woods of Lothluthil, thus:

"Soeh arta lye, Isilme."

And the great Moonstone in the pommel of "Lossehelin Ruthuviel" began to glow. Brighter and brighter, it glowed 'till it threw out and about, a pale, and brilliant light, like, as that, of a Hunter's Moon. This must be a portent, for was not the Hunter's Moon also called a Blood Moon?

Silently, with attentive concern and wary prudence, Eldamar and Torbair progressed the nebulous gloom of the Pass of Hestrus by the light of the great Moonstone set to pommel of Torbair's sword. This was indeed, a presentment of ancient, and powerful Moon-Algethi Magic. Eldamar had never seen the like, though he knew that there was much that was shrouded and mystical in and about the Singing Woods of Lothluthil.

They had drawn 'nigh on half-a-league, when they beheld a darkening of the murk to the northern face of the defile. Was this the supposed portal to the Underdark? Eldamar's Great Sword of The Light, "Eithelhwen" showed no flare in the depths of her pommel stone, carved as like, a star. So… there were no minions of The Darkness in lurk, but nonetheless, he felt the hairs on his nape of neck rise. Torbair made silent and covert beckon with his hand, and they crept towards the ominous shadow.

Eldamar saw Torbair's lips move silently, and the brilliant glow of the Moonstone gently waned, until it was gifting little more light than might be thrown from some cheap tallow candle of the like, as one might garner from some itinerant merchant. They stood before the shadowy edifice, and perceived that it was a deep shaft thrust down into the rock, slanting down and away in the manner of some scurvy drift mine; but this, it was not. This was the portal to the Underdark that they had feared lay within this grim, and malignant place. Torbair peered therein. There was naught to see. He turned to Eldamar; saying,

'This is the means by which these vermin accomplish the Overlight. Come old friend, let us seal up this abomination.'

He raised his great sword and motioned Eldamar draw "Eithelhwen" and affect in kind his deeds. Torbair laid the point of his sword "Lossehelin Ruthuviel" to the middle of the lowest reach of the maw of the portal. Eldamar laid the point of "Eithelhwen" next to it. Then, Torbair drew the point of his sword up and away; scraping her tip all up the side of the portal until he reached the middle of the highest reach of the breach in the rock face. Eldamar followed his movements all up and around the other side, until their sword points touched once more. Now, Torbair drew forth the parchment whereon was scribed the spell-casting of The Old Magic, called by name: "Aelondrae en'Rembina"... "The Enigma of Confinement," gleaned from out of the Great Tarsius of Yeranoor. He began to read. He spoke the spell-casting in the pure tongue of The Moon-Algethi, being called "Orosta'Sindar."

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The "Aelondrae en'Rembina" needs-must, be spoken in this tongue, and Eldamar could recognise scarcely a word of it. Torbair intoned the spell-casting thus…

'Sael Seo es shyl tae'resi si vial,

Cyrn sai eir paeles ail Si moli.

Mi vaerer si myr eil pyl eindral

Shaesi cor shor, si shaer boli.

Ailai si vesia caes thaer ofer

Mi caraelar thys shyrstol paern,

Eol thaedar caeli, eil shaesi mibysaer

Niraesas, bai tae'resi caern.'

As he intoned the spellcasting, the blades of "Lossehelin Ruthuviel" and too, of "Eithelhwen" glowed... as if washed by moonlight. The trace they had compassed about the portal shimmered, and then, faded to a nothingness. Torbair smiled, grimly;

'None will yet come forth from this place in lurk and prowl. The Entrapment is secure.'

Eldamar asked of him; what was the meaning of the words spoken? Torbair made wary respond.

'Old friend, the sum I cannot reveal, 'less some notion of it be garnered here. This I can tell; the words in the common tongue are these:

"Then came a wondrous creature over the plain,

Known to all dwellers in The Lands that Shine.

She rescued the spoil and drove again

against his will, the wretch for nine,

into the west, to pursue her feud;

She hastened forth through blossoming dew,

Night faded hence, and where she journeyed

afterwards, no creature knew."

'All I shall say is that it stands as a sturdy, and misleading riddle which will need a fair clasp of guile to unravel, and even then, that is not the full sum of it. Now, ask no more of me, for my words are herewith, held firm behind my teeth in this matter.'

As they turned back into the slendering glim, there came the dreadful echo of gryphons screaming. The pommel stone of "Eithelhwen" of a sudden; blazed brightly. Darklings! But would they be Shadow-Wraiths or Chutaks?

Eldamar and Torbair hastened down the Pass of Hestrus through the swirling, fading mists. At the throat of the pass, they perceived the three gryphons whirling about dark, and flitting shapes. T'were a covey of Shadow-Wraiths, who, t'would seem, had been standing in the return to the portal. As they watched, the gryphons were tearing and shredding the shades asunder with their terrible, Leissor-sheathed Talons. Each shade so afflicted; burst into a billowing stink that sank to the rocky floor of the pass and dribbled away into the scrubbings.

As they so did; a clutch of perhaps, six Charas... the shining Golden Orbs drifted up and away; but, two Shadow-Wraiths were coming on; polluting the thinning glim with their wailing, wordless cries of hatred, as they fleetly cast off distance towards Eldamar and Torbair.

Who stood with swords drawn as the Shadow-Wraiths came wildly on, intent on naught, save pillaging the Charas of these two contumelious Algethi who stood shoulder to shoulder, defying the Dominion and designs of their Master, The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark." And, in this was their undoing; for as they made vengeful swoop upon the two, they were met with sweep of sword which sundered each of them complete, into a burgeoning billow of stinking brume that writhed and blenched away, pierced through with their demising shrieks. Then, they were gone; the haze of their passing sinking into the blighted scree that mantled the belly of the Pass of Hestrus. Again; another six, perhaps, eight shining Golden Orbs drifted up and away; and on the wind, the soft song of Sathulinan whispered gently.

It stood sound that perhaps these were the Charas of the slaughtered Cabal maids of Bradda. Eldamar had tallied the sum of the Charas as ten and four. By his reckoning, there must yet be some ten, and six captive Charas ensnared by Shadow-Wraiths yet in lurk abroad. Forbye; there were the Charas of the unborn infants to add to the Tally. Such Shadow-Wraiths in tenure of these, need be hunted down and destroyed, 'ere the Charas find their way home to Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island.

As Eldamar and Torbair drew breath, the gryphons came padding up the Pass. There was no more sport for them in this place. They told to Torbair in Charybon-Runic tongue, that Ten and five Shadow-Wraiths had come in from the west in return to their lair from their marauding the reaches of Arfeiniel and beyond. Four had passed over them, but the gryphons had slaughtered the remain. Now, they stood in readiness to fly on; their ruby eyes were bright with contentment at the savour of this thing they best do; even to purring a greeting to the two sword-brothers. This boded well, for the Gryphons told that as each Shadow-Wraith was destroyed; a shining Golden Orb had risen up and floated away. This gave Eldamar sturdy consolation. Most-all of the Cabal Maids' Charas would seem to have been released from their dire thrall to the Darkness.

Eldamar and Torbair turned to gaze once more up the Pass of Hestrus, which stood now, swathed in sunshine. The ominous shadows had decamped away. The Pass of Hestrus was once more, 'naught, but a deep defile that led away into the east. How long it might remain so was not for the knowing; but t'would not be from this portal that the Minions of The Darkness would sally forth a'fresh.

Sheathing their swords, Eldamar and Torbair mounted their gryphons; that spread wing and rose into the skies. Turning into the southerly east, they flew out, bound away for the distant farmstead of Falan to bring the sister of Artanis's mother, the Mistress Alcina into the West, and safety. The flight of the gryphons drifted to the south, yet skirted away from the Vale of Cleigh… for here lay mournful remembrance of the time spent in the company of the Cabal maids of Bradda, now since, so cruelly slaughtered by the verminous Chutaks, and pillaged by Shadow-Wraiths.

In a fleeting span, they came down onto the little valley that had been all mantled with pollen- bursting Golden Rod as Eldamar and Feawen Arcamen had ridden out from Bradda, that early summer's day. The little stream called Gelmirbeck shone far below, a slender ribbon of brightness in the fallowing valley. Bradda would now lie little more than eight leagues to the west.

Soon enough, they would espy the Broad way to the east... the Broad way where Eldamar and Artanis had encountered the herder who was not a herder at all. The herder, whose ambling gait was a little too measured; whose garb was a little too rustic, with broad-brimmed hat and scurvy milking smock. The herder who was in truth, a Shadow-Wraith, cloaked with a "Haldrig en'Seregnir" Witching bracelet; who had striven to knife Artanis with his dreadful long, black, Karuk dagger that had lain concealed about his scurvy smock.

The Shadow-Wraith had been destroyed where it stood by Eldamar's sweeping blow with "Eithelhwen" that had sundered the hand grasping the Karuk blade a little above the wrist, and tumbled the Witching Bracelet which had been worn about the wrist of the severed hand in full reveal, into the dust of the Broad way which now stretched before them into the east for some thirty leagues 'till it would progress the fields of the Farmstead of Falan. They would accomplish the same within the span of a Sundial-shadow.

Alcina, Mistress of the Farmstead of Falan prospected her orchards in seek of the eggs her rootling hens had laid amongst the grasses in the shade of the apple trees, which even now, were beginning to cast their russetting leaves as Autumn crept to its dooming. Her crop of apples was long-since gathered in, and soon enough, t'would be time to bring the hens into the garnering barn. For soon, the white beast of winter would howl out of the east, choking all, in its bitter, white mantle of snow.

As she rummaged the orchard, some intuition caused her to stare into the western skies. There, she spied three darkening shapes coming on swiftly. Casting down her willow-wand egg basket, she scurried, all billowing skirts, across the cobbled farmstead yard to the sturdy, stone-built abode. Swiftly, she barred the great oaken door and pulled tight the casement shutters. Each shutter was sundered with an arrow loop. Joran of Panilor, her bond-mate; whom she had lost when he fell defending the Baranthyr Gate; had strengthened Falan for just such an incursion.

Of late; a pair of times, Falan had been assailed by some gruesome, yellow-eyed creatures who rode frightening beasts... not unlike wolverines. Mistress Alcina was no warrior, but Joran had, from some place, secured an ancient Tarak crossbow and had tutored Alcina in its usage. At the first assail she had brought down four of these creatures; at the second, she had despatched six. When their comrades had withdrawn in disrelish of this unforeseen defiance by the supposed defenders of this Farmstead, she had dragged and heaved the carcasses to the Farmstead midden, wherein, she had tumbled them.

Now she spanned the crossbow in her Farmstead kitchen. There were, but five bolts in the remain. She held no fear, aside from the manner in which she might be despatched; but then, what did it matter? She had prevailed twice against all odds… if this were then, to be her doom, then the sooner she would be with her Joran. She laid the first of the dragon riders in her sighting. Her finger tightened about the trigger lever… and then, it did not. For the rider held in her sighting became plain to her knowing. T'was The Lord Guardian of The Light… Eldamar; companion to her niece Artanis, that time, in distant-past when they had ridden into Falan seeking shelter.

She saw too, that the creatures she had discerned as dragons were not dragons. They were some creature, the like of which she had never seen; and now three had settled in her cobblestone yard. The Lord Guardian and another rider made dismount and strode to her steading. Swiftly, she unbarred the great oaken door and faced them, her countenance beset with great surprise, saying…

'My Lord Eldamar; what do you here? Come ye both in, for you are surely welcome at my hearth.'

Eldamar and Torbair entered therein, seeing, with raised brow; the spanned crossbow cast aside. Swiftly he lay the tell of their foray before her, saying,

'Mistress Alcina; we have come to deliver you into the west, to the safety of my Halls of Arlanronde. Arfeiniel is beset with peril for you now. Dread shades and Darkling abominations prowl and stalk this once tranquil Realm. You must decamp into the west with us, for I would not see you Charas-wrenched, as I have so seen, with so many others about this blighted land.'

Alcina made to spurn his exhortation; she would prevail in this place; she had seen off two onslaughts of these vermin heretofore.

Torbair spoke,

'Mistress; how then might you hold off these vermin with, but five crossbow bolts in remain? I beg you; hearken to the words of Eldamar. If you decry his counsel then you shall surely be lost. And more; would you not wish to acquaint yourself of Artanis's infant?'

Eldamar said 'naught; thinking Torbair was a cunning old fox, laying this reveal. Alcina's humour turned in the span of a heartbeat.

'Artanis has an infant? She has bonded with you, my Lord Guardian? What manner of infant has she?'

Eldamar smiled at her; standing as she was, open-mouthed and wide-eyed at this reveal. Gently he spoke,

'She, and I are indeed bonded. Artanis is Mistress of Arlanronde, and mother to a beautiful daughter… Kathalyn.'

Alcina stood, wordless before him. Then she gave blush, red as a summer rose.

'Then, she must have been with child when you overstayed here, that time ago. And to think, I caused you to take separate chambers! Oh, forgive me, my Lord for my rustic propriety!

Eldamar laughed,

'T'is of trifling issue, Mistress Alcina. You were not to know of her blithesome standing when we partook of your hospitality. You fulfilled your values in a manner you thought seemly, and no rue in this thing. But, we have slender sum in passing to squander. Come, gather up such things as you deem needful, and let us decamp away from this place.'

Alcina, made bustle, and prattle, and chatter all about them, as like, some eager magpie. Her humour had returned to the like as Eldamar held in remembrance of her. She needs-must throw open the barns so such livestock as abided at the Farmstead might have shelter. She needs-must gather up certain garments. At length, she stood prepared. She was not a little nervous at the prospect of riding out a gryphon, who gazed upon her with a watchful ruby stare; but soon enough, she was secure in saddle, and, with a last behindwards glance at Falan she wrapped her courage about her as like some winter cloak, as the gryphons spread wings and rose into the skies, turning to westwards, bound away for The Shining Lands.

There would be no incurse to The Plain of Malphaers on the homeward progress. They would fly the gryphons arrow-straight 'til they accomplished the Vale of Windlemoss. Such a passage would, Eldamar reckoned, embrace the sum of perhaps, four Sundial shadow-spans, for the wind was to their backs. Even so, they would not accomplish Amriath before the sun made westering sink. T'was as well that the gryphons rode the skies by dusk of night; as does an owl. So it was; they sped on into the west. Alcina had long since cast off her trepidation, and rode her gryphon with her hair streaming the wind, and her eyes bright as some young maid at her first Lammas Dance.

For the passing of three Sundial-shadows, they flew into the west. Below them, Arfeiniel slipped away, bounded distant to their left-most hand by the stride of the Hills of Tillethmhor. The soft valleys and sprawling downs rolled beneath them, and there… far- distantly to the west could just be seen the glittering crowns of the Blue Ice Mountains of Shandalar. The sun was slipping to the western horizon; there would be little more than perhaps, a single turn of Sundial-shadow 'ere the dusk began a'creeping.

As if they had perceived Eldamar's concern to be caught in the dusk, the gryphons laid on pace. With wings beating sturdy, they rushed on into the west. The Bridge of Herlin and the now, trifling and benign Pass of Hestrus were far-distantly behind them. It might well be that they would overfly the willow pool on the borders of Arfeiniel, and accomplish Windlemoss 'ere darkness beset them; such was the resolve of pace of these sturdy-hearted gryphons.

Eldamar wondered; were these creatures embraced in some enchantment laid upon them by Calelindi at Calverstock? Those Golden Leaf collars were a device of Calelindi; they were images of the Lothluthil Rowan leaf, which was the symbol of Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being." Did they now ride, embraced in the Dreaming of Elaiana, "The One?" T'was certain-sure that there was something in this. Eldamar had ridden out gryphons many times before, but none of those flew like these. Were they chosen by breeding to be as they were? For these creatures that Staisha had called Skirmishing gryphons were unlike any others. They were as different as water is to wine. Their pace in flight was closer to that of say…a hawk, than to a common gryphon.

Eldamar was musing this conundrum, when there… below them yawned the Vale of Windlemoss. And in this came a sombre truth. There had been no rising into the sky as the gryphons broached the border of Arfeiniel, as it had been when Eldamar rode Khanis in his Loki form from out of Bradda. The Enchanted Girdle of the Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel had been sundered and tumbled; it was no more. It must be that, when those who had raised it… being the Sisters of the Cabal of the Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel… were slaughtered at Bradda, then the Enchanted Girdle had fallen with them. This now held that the Enchanted Girdle… "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting" laid about Amriath was now the last, and only defence of The Shining Lands.

The flight into the west continued. The sun was now below the western horizon, and all in remain of the day were the pale saffron and amber streakings that grew softer above the grey, flinty mountains. Still, the gryphons forged onwards towards Ling. They had moved out onto the Plain of Malphaers, shunning the shadowy thrust of the Blue Ice Mountain peaks of Shandalar. As the dusk settled, t'would need no stern effort to be ensnared by the hollow winds that gusted from out of the blue juts, and dashed into the mountainside.

The sun had died in the west; a great moon was climbing in the east and by the light of the same, at last, they saw the High Watchtower of Ling. The gryphons rose, and overflew the edifice, the flare of the Watchtower's links splintering light from off their breastplates of shining mail. The watchers scarce had time to see them pass, and then they were gone, swallowed by the deeping shadows in the High Pass of Ling. The Great Redoubt of Striding Edge loomed before them. The gryphons rose, and swept over the escarpment, then turning, made settle without the Bastion.

The standing Captain of Guard, came forward from out the Bastion, together with three of his guards; their swords half-drawn as they stared in startled amaze at the three gryphons there, before them. Eldamar made dismount and, by the flare of the Bastion links, was recognised by the Guard Captain, who laid swift order that his men sheath their blades. He spoke,

'My Lord what is this? We had not thought to see you hereabouts. Does all stand well?'

Eldamar made reply,

'Aye, Captain, all is well. The Lord Torbair and I have brought Mistress Alcina of the Farmstead of Falan from out of the distant reaches of Arfeiniel. We would petition you for quarters here, this night before we progress onwards into the west. I would have you water our faithful mounts, and perhaps, lay out any meat you might have about this place, for their easement.'

The Guard Captain shrugged,

'Water, we have in plenty; but, alas there is no meat in this place.'

Eldamar nodded,

'Aye, I thought as much; the water will suffice.'

Then walking to the gryphons, whereto Torbair was attending Alcina as she made hesitant dismount from her gryphon, he communed with them in the Charybon-Runic tongue that they recognised; saying…

'Ye have served us well, this night, my faithful and bold-hearted companions. Come; drink your fill, and then, be off into the plains to hunt such prey, as ye would seek for your needs. But attend ye this; Stand here in the return 'ere dawn of the morrow breaks, for we have yet, far to go.'

The gryphons attended his counsel and padded to the horse-troughs that beset the Bastion wall. When they had slaked such thirst as they possessed, they spread wing and rose into the night, there to winnow the southern plains of Shandalar for such coneys and the like, as they might find.

The Captain of Guard brought them into the Bastion common chamber, where he sat them at table and called for food and drink. As they partook of his provender, it could be seen that the humour of Alcina, which… up to now in their flight from out Arfeiniel, had been inspirited, yet beset with nervousness; had rallied as she was indulged and cosseted by this gathering of sturdy young troopers. T'was not often that they shared the company of females in this austere Redoubt, and she had not partaken of the attentions of males since her bond-mate was lost at the defence of the Baranthyr Gate in distant Arfeiniel, close on four summers since passed.

Eldamar glanced at Torbair, who raised a knowing eyebrow. One of the troopers, a sturdily-muscled and handsome young fellow, by name of Mallin, attended her more regardfully than the rest. Alcina must have held above a score of summers beyond him, but she was a comely Matron. True, she was plump beyond the stature of most Algethi females; but her plumpness softened her countenance, and added a splendid voluptuousness to her in bosom and hip. Her hair was the pale blonde of fresh-scythed corn, and her eyes were the soft, bluish-grey of wood smoke in the Autumn sunlight.

And as they watched her sparkle and shine 'neath the beguiling attentions of the handsome young trooper, they knew without doubting, that t'was as like, that Mistress Alcina of Falan would not know a cold, and lonesome bed this night. And, who then would decry her? For she had known her share… and more, of loneliness and fear; and one night of warmth and comfort was not much to ask for in these perilous times.

On the morrow, they rose early and Eldamar found Alcina in the Bastion kitchens, bright and happy in her toil of preparing a sturdy sum of her "Battercakes" for the relish of the garrison. In lack of any hens' eggs about that place, she had elicited the Captain for a pair of troopers to go winnow the tarns of the Low Riggs of Striding Edge in seek of duck eggs. They had returned with a pannier of creamy-white Mallard eggs. These would require a sturdier mixing, but the taste of the Battercakes would be the richer for it. T'was just the thing for these sturdy young troopers….and one in particular. The young trooper, Mallin, struck Eldamar as being in receipt of a bearing that was a little feeble, this fine morning.

Eldamar bid Alcina fair morrow and frolicsomely enquired of her; had she embraced a fair repose in the night now flown? Wickedly, he saw the blush rush to her face, and noted the sudden downcast eyes of Mallin, who had been sitting by the hearth stirring the bowl of batter. Eldamar chose not to prosecute her discomfiture at her unintended reveal, and with tranquil demeanour… as if, he had not embraced regard of her fiery blush; remarked on the wondrous redolence of her endeavours at the hearth. As he turned to leave the kitchen, Alcina bustled after him, holding him in earnest parlance without the kitchen door which she closed behind her. She spoke, her voice soft and imploring; a gentle blush upon her cheeks…

'My Lord; as you have most certainly surmised, Mallin and I have shared the night, and I have found again, a sweetness that I thought was forever lost. Is there any approach that might be made to his Captain so that we may remain together?

Eldamar smiled gently; he could see plain what had beguiled Mallin in this comely, and bounteous Matron. He spoke…

'If you are certain-sure of this, and the young trooper Mallin is veritable in his suit and does not possess a tongue that wags both ways... and neither the truthing; then I shall petition his Captain to detach him from garrison into my charge.'

Alcina beheld him with wide-eyed stare.

'My Lord: I am certain-sure; and Mallin is not abjured in this matter; I am no giddy young maid enticed by silvery whispers in the soft of the night. I have looked into his heart and found him true-tongued in his yearn to share our tomorrows.'

Eldamar smiled,

'Aye; the seeking gaze of Heart-tell cannot be cozened, so I shall away to the Captain on the authority of my granddaughter, Cirion…Queen of Shandalar to have the trooper Mallin detached from garrison forthwith, so he may ride for my Halls of Arlanronde by way of Rhom and Calverstock. When he accomplishes his ride he may either join my garrison, 'an he so chooses; or become one of the household; being swain to the Aunt of the Mistress of Arlanronde.'

With tears tumbling her cheeks, Alcina cried,

'Oh, thank you, My Lord; how might I ever repay you for your kindliness?'

Eldamar laughed,

'Mistress Alcina; The promise of your Battercakes is settlement enough.'

And turning, he strode towards the common chamber of the Bastion to seek out the Captain and lay upon him the behest to detach trooper Mallin into his charge.

The Captain of Guard laid no dispute to Eldamar. T'was a pity for the losing of Mallin to the garrison, but, he knew well that the wont of The Lord Guardian of The Light would be the wont of The Queen. So it was; within the space of less than one -half of a Sundial-shadow, trooper Mallin rode out of the Great Redoubt of Striding Edge, discharged of Duty and bound away down the High Pass of Ling into the west. The gryphons had returned, and mount was made. Mistress Alcina was bright and excited; indeed, it seemed almost as if she had shed the sum of half-a -core of summers that fair morning.

Bidding farewell to the garrison as the gryphons spread wing and rose into the skies, they settled in saddle for the progress onwards. Eldamar had elected that Torbair and Alcina fly straight for Arlanronde. At the Khallis Redoubt, he would sheer into the south, bound for Rhom to apprise them of the coming of trooper Mallin.

As they came down the High Pass of Ling into the Great Gorge of Khallis towards the echoing cliffs of the Khallis Redoubt, below them sped a lone rider. As they overflew, they saw it was Mallin progressing on at all speed. He raised hand in salutation, and then, they were beyond. At the edge of the Khallis wastelands, they parted company. Torbair and Alcina flew on into the southerly west; Eldamar turned to the south, bound away for Rhom.

Later that day in Rhom, a sharp-eyed young sentry espied a swift-moving dark shape in the skies, coming on from out of the northerly east. Swiftly, he called the Alarm. To the wall came his Watch Guard Captain in company with Tristan himself, who had been crossing the Muster yard below and had hearkened the call of Alarm. As they strained their gaze in peering from the wall of Rhom; whatever this might be in approach, made turn... and as it so did, the sun threw ominous glitter and flash about it. So; t'was armoured! T'was a creature... and not, as they had feared... a Shadow-Wraith.; but, what it might be was not for the knowing.

Swiftly, the Guard Captain laid call to Arms upon his horn, and the Archers of the morning watch made roust and tumble from out of their quarters to take up their places on the northern wall. With arrows nocked, they watched the approach. Though far out of bowshot, they raised bows in draw, and held. The creature swiftly came on; then, came the knowing to Tristan, who cried out,

'Stand down! T'is a gryphon from out of Calverstock!'

But, who was the rider? The gryphon closed on Rhom, and, as it overflew it could be seen that the rider was Eldamar himself. Who brought the gryphon down to settle in the Muster Yard as Tristan and his Captain of Guard accomplished the descent of the stairs from the wall in swift accord; there to greet The Lord Guardian of The Light as he made dismount.

Tristan welcomed his father, saying...

'Fair morrow, My Lord; what brings you thus, to Rhom? Does all stand well in the north?'

Eldamar made reply,

'Aye, my son; all is well. I am out of Shandalar to bring you informations that a trooper rides in from the north. He is called by name: Mallin. I would be beholden to you, 'an you might furnish him comfort this night; and on the morrow, apportion him a fresh mount. He rides for Arlanronde to be with The Lady Artanis's Aunt, whom we have recently brought out of harm's way from the perils besetting the distant reaches of Arfeiniel; and who flies by gryphon to my Halls in company of Torbair as we speak.'

Tristan stood in ponder, solemn of countenance; and then he laid question:

'What then, has befallen Arfeiniel, My Lord?'

Eldamar replied,

'It is a ruined, and desolate Realm. The Darkness forged a portal to the Overlight in the distant Pass of Hestrus, and therefrom, all manner of abominations spewed forth to lay the land to waste. Torbair and I have sealed the portal with a great, and ancient spellcasting of The Old Moon-Algethi Magic, but the land is empty and blighted in full sum. Mindful of this, we brought forth the Mistress Alcina of Falan from out her distant Farmstead in Arfeiniel; for she is kin to Artanis. In the return, we stood down at Striding Edge, and there she embraced an ardent accord with this young trooper from the Great Striding Edge Redoubt garrison. He is detached from the garrison on my wont, and rides for Rhom. Treat him kindly, for it is as like, that he may well become distant kin 'an I have read true, the Mistress Alcina's designs. On the morrow, provision him sturdy, and set his feet upon the swiftest path to Arlanronde.'

Tristan made reply,

'Aye My Lord, it shall be done; now come and take refreshment with us, 'an you progress on into the west.'

As they repaired to the Great Hall of the Palace; of a sudden, Eldamar paused. Turning to Tristan, he spoke,

'Nay; furnish Mallin with quarters this night but do not re-horse him on the morrow. I shall take refreshment with you, and progress on to Calverstock. There, I shall petition Callam to fly out with a pair of gryphons to Rhom, so that the young trooper might be flown to Arlanronde with Callam in oversee of the progress. Thence Staisha; who, for now, tarries at Arlanronde; may return with Callam and the flight of gryphons to Calverstock. This will speed the trooper's prospect to his Lady, and temper such burden as might be laid upon one of your chargers should he choose, as doubtless he would; to wildly gallop the Amriath plain.'

Tristan laughed,

'Aye, My Lord; that were a wise settlement. The young have slender grasp of wit when it comes to the matter of an itch that needs be scratched. T'is certain-sure that you speak the truth. He would, as like, ride as if the very Hounds of The Abyss were snapping at his heels. We shall lodge him at Rhom as if he were even yet, kinsman. I shall lay him up in a chamber in the Palace, and attend the arrival of Callam on the morrow.'

Having taken food with Tristan, Eldamar progressed to the Muster yard and made mount his gryphon that had been tended by the Rhom Ostle-master. Bidding Tristan farewell, he rose up into the skies, turning into the west, bound away for Calverstock. Tristan gathered his sentinels and apprised them of the inbound ride of the Shandalar trooper from out of the north. As he turned from the wall to accomplish the steps to the Muster yard, he glanced towards The Delvlings. Even now, the gryphon was sheering to the left in descent as it came down on Calverstock. He grinned; two leagues in less span than a quarter Sundial-shadow. Eldamar would be home in Arlanronde 'ere eventide crept across the eastern skies.

Meantime; Torbair and Alcina had made fair progress; They had compassed the plain of Amriath, and even now, were beyond the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere and overflying the western reaches of the golden meadows that bordered the deep greening of the Forest of Elisriendell. Soon enough, they would lay off a little to southwards, for their passage of flight had carried them to the north of the Halls of Eldamar situate at the Stronghold of Arlanronde. There had been 'naught to mire their passage from out of Striding Edge; but as they turned, Torbair had fancied that he had espied a distant movement in the west; a little beyond the Enchanted Girdle which lay half a league beyond Arlanronde.

To their sighting came the prospect of Arlanronde. They cast off their reach of stand in the skies and came down in settlement in the outer closure. They were met by the garrison Range-Master Captain who lay tell that Arlanronde was beset with prowl, a pair of moons since. They had seen creatures probing in from the west; creatures who rode gruesome mounts… bearing likeness to Wolverines, yet… not Wolverines. The Enchanted Girdle had claimed sum of three; but they yet came in lurk and prowl.

Torbair held stern countenance at this tell. From such tell; he knew these were Chutaks. Were any Shadow-Wraiths seen? The Range-Master captain said, as yet, there were none. So; Arlanronde was, as yet, secure… but, The Darkness had laid plain its intent… to assail The Golden Child, long before she ever became a peril to the ambitions of The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," "The Lord of The Underdark." Laying thanks upon the Captain for his informations, Torbair laid instruction that the watch be doubled; and, having so done, repaired to the Hall principal to bring Alcina into the company of Artanis.

At about the seventh turn of Sundial of the after-zenith, a sentry on the northern wall of Rhom spied a lone rider coming in from off the plain of Lorenfalu. Here, would be the trooper of whom Tristan had spoken. The sentry called down for the Gates of Rhom to be laid open as the rider turned his mount therein. They beheld his stature all soiled and dusted from his ride through the wastelands of Khallis. His mount was close-spent; having been ridden hard; and stood in the Muster yard drooping of head and doleful of countenance.

Tristan came forth to welcome the trooper, cloaking a smile in remembrance of the bandy that had passed betwixt Eldamar and himself, concerning the demeanour of ride of this young Trooper, and the lack of wit the young would show when itch were needed to be scratched.

And here, it should be recounted; that all that is at the first, beholden to the eye, is not always the truthing. The young trooper laid ominous informations concerning what he had espied upon his ride. He told of dark shadows that made slink in the skies to the east, beyond the march of the watchtower chain across the heights of Rhyddu. He told of sudden, bright blue flashes about these places. He told of the awful awareness of being watched and pursued, 'though there was 'naught to his back save the most eerie and forsaken southernmost reaches of the wastelands of Khallis. This then, was why he had pressed on with all speed to bring caution of Alarm to Rhom.

As Tristan hearkened to the tale of the young trooper Mallin, his countenance became grim. What Mallin spoke of could only be Shadow-Wraiths. So; they prowled Malphaers and probed the Enchanted Girdle. This could mean, but one thing… The Darkness now mustered for further infliction of hostile intent and venomous onslaught upon The Light.