Chapter Two.

The Winnowing of The Great Wiccen Rede.

A pair of summers had drifted and turned, and there was much to tell of what had passed at the Stronghold of Arlanronde. The minions of The Darkness yet made probe and lurk about the outlands, but none had incursed the Enchanted Girdle. Many had perished in trying; for it was common to perceive the bright, blue flash and burst of flame as one more of the Abyss vermin was hurled into the clutches of The Burning Fire-Shield, and was wholly consumed. Indeed; t'was so commonplace that the Range-Master sentinels keeping watch upon the walls paid little heed; even unto laying wager, one to the other, as to the sum of the destruction as might be spied in the span of their Duty Watch.

During this span of summers, Tharlan; Eldamar's infant son had weaned off the teat of Rodwen, his wet-nurse. Eldamar had petitioned her to remain at Arlanronde as tutor, and in this, she had accepted. Released from her charge as wet-nurse, she had become smitten with one of the Range-Masters. T'was, as like, that they would certainly embrace full bond 'ere came the golden tumble of autumn. Artanis was yet in suckle with Kathalyn; the infant being in receipt of a pair of summers... but, soon enough, would she too, be weaned. Catalyn Silverleaf tended her Storm-Linnets, and too, was tended by another of the Range-Masters.

The Mistress Alcina had taken to dwelling with her young trooper Mallin, as if in full bond. Alcina was wise; she knew that, albeit, Mallin was true-tongued of intent... well then; she was in receipt of above a score of summers beyond him, and t'was as like, that a younger maid might one day draw 'nigh. Mindful of this; she elected not to petition him to bond; and thus, in the manner that Algethi females held a measure of sway over their bodies, and to some lengths could choose not to conceive… chose to embrace this pathway. In this, there would be no infant to beset him with honour-bound inducement, 'nor charge laid to cause him to remain, 'an he wished, not so to do. Yet, in this; there was no cause for Alcina to beset herself with angst. Mallin was besotted with his comely, and bounteous paramour. He was content, and would remain so through the reach of their spans, in togetherness.

Far to the northerly east, in the Realm of Shandalar, there had been agreed an accord which would prove to be far-reaching in the Matter of The Light. At the behest of Eldamar, a Great Council had gathered at the Citadel, there to settle the matter of land to be apportioned to the Companions of Storien-Rhudd. Queen Cirion commanded the High Council of Shandalar to relinquish by proclaimed Deed of Covenant, a parcel of her Realm to Khanis. The parcel of her Realm so settled would encompass the northern reaches of the Plain of Shandalar. Were a line to be drawn on a parchment-writ notion of the lie of Shandalar; then this line would, at the first; march westwardly from the Keening Stone that lay distantly north beyond the Great Henge of Dromnmhor, and would skirt to north of the Corries of Thar; progressing on to the borderlands in the west, close by where lay the Weens of White Prestor. All lands that lay to the north of this notioned line would be bestowed by Deed of Covenant as the Autarchic Fiefdom of Lokaria.

In sum, this parcel of Shandalar held close on twelve-score of Hundreds... more than enough to have it called Shire. Khanis would be embraced herein as Lord Protector. Lokaria would become "Sangencrist," or "Weapons Gather" to Shandalar. This held that Cirion could call out the Lokarian Warriors at her behest, and all Lokarian younglings were to be trained in the arts of the Sword and the Bow. To this end, there would be a place of learning within the settlement yet to be raised. Lokari was chosen to become Master of War in this place.

As prevised; he, and Tahkaiia had taken bond together in Shandalar, and Tahkaiia now stood some six moon-spans with child. Khanis and Gwythlyn had embraced bond… "The Handfasting" as it was so called; but, as yet lacked issue.

The great joy of Shandalar, though, was the matter of The Ice Queen Cirion. She, and Lorimer were now parents of a beautiful daughter, birthed on the night of the Rose Moon, betwixt Beltane and Lammas, that summer previous. Cirion had named the infant: Serissea; to honour her great-great Grand-dam... Queen Serissea of Galeth. And Cirion was again with child. This infant would be birthed when came the golden turning of autumn. Cirion had resolved; were this infant a girl, then she would be named Laurelindor.

Laurelindor; the young, beautiful Brigand Queen, who plundered the old Thuvian trade-roads for Gold and Jewels, far back in the misting of Ages forgotten, and long lost from remembrance. Laurelindor; from whose hoard of gems... the so-called "Jewel-Hoard of Laurelindor," had the pommelled gemstones of the Guardians Swords been chosen. This choosing of gems to match the hue of eye of each Guardian, being called the "Cilme vell Kiira"… Choosing the Gems.

So it was; the settling of the Shire of Lokaria was agreed. Gwythlyn would take residence with Khanis as his Lady. In this, she elected that she would yield up her rank of High Duchess of Shandalar. Such rank would be settled upon the infant Serissea, until she came of an age to take up the title of Princess of Shandalar. All this though, was for future days.

The settlement needs must be raised 'ere any decampment from Shandalar be countenanced. Word was sent into the Realms, and soon there came forth the craftsmen; the Stone-masters and the Fortress raisers from out of all Amriath. None decried; the debt owed to the Companions of Storien-Rhudd lay not in refute. Their bolster of the Forces of The Light at the battle of Ling; and too... the engagement on the slopes of Rhyddu and the Plain of Malphaers stood bright in the remembrance of those who had fought there. Now, the debt could be settled; they would not raise a settlement… they would raise a City!

In Shandalar, there had manifested great joy. Queen Cirion had too, embraced an undemanding childbed on the eve of the lighting of the Lammas fires. In this, The Golden Child was not to be usurped, for Cirion brought forth her second-born in the slender time of the next morn. Her presage that it would be a daughter was confounded; The Queen brought forth a Son... a sturdy infant; in weighting of some seven-cloves in sum. He was a lusty infant with pale hair, and his mother's soft, Agate-blue eyes. The infant was bestowed naming of Calahmir; which in the Shandalar Algethi tongue, held meaning: "Promise of The Light." Here too, was an echo of reverence to her great-great Grandfather: Calamar… Hammer of Astalan; Algethi Lord of Eldanore; Lord Guardian of The Light.

All through the next pair of summers were laid the beginnings of the settlement in the northern plains of Shandalar. The Stone-masters had found that there was small store of stone in kind for the raising of sturdy edifices about the place so chosen; and so, they had winnowed the chosen Hundreds for that which they sought. They found the same in the Corries of Thar. The dwellings, barns and bothies which, at the first, had been the settlement of the banished of Shandalar; and later, had furnished safe, and secure haven for the crafting of fitments for the dragon flights of Storien-Rhudd, were pulled down, and the sum of the whole carried by waggon to the place of the new settlement.

Further; The Thuvian-Lord of Khallis: Thoris Barandor had apportioned a company of his Mining-masters to this mutual endeavour. They prospected the scarp of Thar in seek of fresh stone should the need arise. They found the same in the northernmost quarries. Here, the scree and unworthy ragstone had been stripped away in readiness of taking out the freestone, by the earlier miners. T'would seem that there had not been the need for more stone when the settlement of Thar was first raised. So; the good freestone had been left uncloaked, and the passing of many seasons had weathered the same to perfection.

Freestone such as this, was the finest that could be had. There would be no great imposition in taking it out of its lie in the scarp. It was stone in kind that Stronghold builders sought for defensive walls and Bastions. This indeed were a prize worthy of the finding; and so the miners elected to raise a camp and begin to take out the stone.

Meantime; at the settlement that was rising out of the high upland plain of Shandalar; t'was decided that here, there would be no rude bothy 'nor lean-to. Each and every dwelling would be built in stone; some with stone-tiled roofs, others with thatch of reed. Each dwelling would embrace space enough for the need of the dweller. None would oversee its neighbour. Each would be apportioned a lie of land thereabouts, where the dweller might husband such crops as he might so choose. Each dwelling would be gifted a house of office with midden pit securely planked over.

The streets would be paved or cobbled, and lead to one of the many fresh springs that stood forth from the foot of High Camas Mhor, which reared some three leagues to northwards from the settlement. Each of these springs would be walled in to form a cistern, wherefrom the dwellers might commonly draw their water, which would be clean. The remaining overspill would be channelled and culverted from midden pit to midden pit below each house of office. Thus, would the spoil of easement be flushed away into the southern meadowlands where it would lie to enrich the soil, which was thin, and insubstantial. In time; when the chosen tract of meadow was grown sturdier, the channels would be trajected to the next sparse meadow, and the enrichment would begin anew. In this, was also the advantage that there would be no prospect of pestilence manifesting itself in the settlement; for such was, nine times in ten, invoked by open middens, cess pits, or polluted water.

There was much debate as to what this new settlement would be called… this Shire seat of Lokaria. The Companions held council, and made their common choice. The name of the Shire seat would be Khanlyn; being a meld of the names of their Lord Khanis, and his Lady… Gwythlyn. So said they all; and so it was done.

Here, it needs-must be told that there was some disputation amongst the Council of Shandalar concerning the suppose that the new settlement might be compassed by a wall. There was also disputation that the new settlement might well outshine the Citadel of Shandalar, itself. The Council elders urged Cirion to forbid the raising of a Stronghold, when all that they had parsimoniously agreed to, was a settlement. The Shire seat of Lokaria might one day, become powerful enough to pose a threat.

Cirion laid sturdy admonish about them for their self-serving suspicions. The only perceived threat would be to their own aspire of power and influence. The stronger the Shire seat was; the safer were the northern borders of the Realm. She held full trust in Khanis, who would hold the new settlement as Lord Protector; and Gwythlyn who would share the same, as his Lady. She would countenance no further disputation in this matter. She rose, and left the Council chamber; leaving the old men besetting themselves with mutter and mumble.

In her chambers, Cirion summoned Stannard, the Chancellor of Shandalar to her counsel. She communed with him on the matter of the presence of the Companions of Storien-Rhudd. She knew that there was a shadow of animosity that prowled about the Court in concern of them. The sooner they decamped into the north, the sooner certain Courtiers would be appeased.

Cirion held grave concern that, even when the settlement were raised; how then might the Companions prevail? T'would squander at least two summers 'ere there were crops to be gathered in. She too, held grave concern that such animosity as there was now, might well swell into naked hostility in such a span in passing. She wished his counsel on a proposal that she embraced.

Her thinking was, that a Tythe of Levy be set in place for the span of two summers; laid upon all of the Farmsteads in the Realm. This would provide full granaries for the Companions in the span 'ere their fields gave crop. She thought one-fortieth part of the sum yield of harvest from each holding was fairness, in payment of the debt owed by Shandalar to the Companions.

Stannard hearkened to her proposal, and agreed in the main. He elected that all of the landowners should be summoned to a Privy Council with The Queen, and this proposal be laid before them. There were certain matters that need be laid to view. t'would not be a fairness to levy Tythe upon the tenants of the landholders. They already paid Tythe to their landlords. There would doubtless be resistance from certain High Council Lordlings. This might prove a vexsome issue to the fairness of the whole. They would, as like, embrace a jaundiced regard to having their sum of incoming wealth diminished.

As he spoke, he saw in his Queen's face… the fleeting ghost of her grandmother, and flustered to recant this concern. She stilled him, and spoke softly…

'An that be their stand; then they shall discover that they have harnessed their waggon to the wrong yoke of horse. For each refutation of levy, then shall the said levy be bolstered by one further tenth of the sum. Further, if this is refuted, it shall be bolstered once again, 'ere it stands at one full-fifth of yield. 'An they still refute, then they shall be sequestered and banished from Court.

This Tythe shall be forthcoming; for I saw none of them stand with me in the High Pass of Ling, these summers since passed. They should remember that were it not for the Companions of Storien-Rhudd fattening our forces in their Loki forms, then t'is as like, they would now have no land yield to covet; and doubtless, no head with which to covet it.'

Stannard could stand her no contrary issue on this. He saw that she was, indeed, her grandmother's granddaughter, and woe betide any greedily selfish Lordling who chose to gainsay this Tythe.

Word was sent throughout the Realm for the gatherment of such landowners and farmsteaders who would be touched by Cirion's proposal. They were all assembled in the Great Hall in attendance of their Queen. Even in this throng could be seen the arrogant demeanour of the minor Court Lordlings. They chose to stand apart from the commonage; lounging about the furthest reaches of the Great Hall; as if, being in the presence of the Commonage would perhaps, taint the air that they breathed. Stannard fretted; this stood not well for common accord. Perhaps...

Before he might make good his ponder, there fell a sudden hush about the Great Hall. Cirion had come to their presence unheralded, and now stood before them. The Commonage fell to their knees before their Queen. Many had never seen her, let alone been in her presence. Only the Lordlings remained standing. Cirion walked towards them saying,

'La, Come now; make good your feet. Most all of you stood with me in the High Pass of Ling, and I would call you my sword-brothers, and proud so to do. There is no require for you to accomplish your knees before me.'

As they made good their feet, she drew forth a chair and sat in the midst of them, as if she were in some tavern beset with her companions. She laid forth her proposal, and when she was done, she elected that they lay their thinking upon her in this matter. Not a word fell from the assemblage. She asked once more; surely, there was some thought concerning this. All that could be heard was covert mumble and mutter from certain Lordlings about the reaches of the Great Hall. Cirion spoke;

'You have some wisdom to add to this issue, My Lords?'

The mumble faded to a parsimonious, and truculent silence. At length, one of the farmsteaders made good his feet before her. He possessed much the same stature and span of summers as her grandfather, The Lord Eldamar. As she gazed at him, standing boldly before her; Cirion sensed the air of rustic nobility that compassed him about, as like, some winter cloak. He seemed familiar to her. Then; she remembered.

He made to speak;

'Majesty...'

She raised her hand and stilled him.

'There is no require for you to address me by trammel of Protocol, Master Elwand; for I remember you. You advised me in the deploy of my forces, that first day of The Mordbrood assault in the High Pass of Ling, when my Captains were young and unlettered in tactics, and I was 'naught, but a fresh-throned, and callow Queen. So; there is no cause for you to bow and scrape before me as the Protocol demands; for I would call you friend, and companion in arms.'

She remembered seeing him charge into affray against the first wave of Mordbrood, wielding naught, but an old, worn-out cavalry sabre that, as like, was a relic of the Great Suhai Wars; and which for all the world, looked as though it had spent its recent span in passing being used as a billhook for chopping hedgerows on his farmstead. As she awaited his respond, she felt humbled in the presence of this stoic countryman of the plains who had bartered all, with no thought of reward other than the privilege of his existence; to answer the call to arms of his young, and untried Queen. Elwand held her in his steady grey gaze.

'Nonetheless, you are my Queen, and so I shall call you Majesty.'

Cirion snorted;

'Faugh!... In truth, Master Elwand, you are without doubt, as contumacious as is my grandfather, The Lord Guardian. But, enough. I am very well pleased to see you once again. Now, what cavil would you seek to add to this issue, my dear old friend?'

Elwand drew himself to his full reach in standing... some four cubits. He spoke,

'No cavil, Majesty; t'is just that I would seek your consent to commune with my fellows beyond the gaze of the Court. There are issues here that need be laid by the heels, 'ere we might furnish a respond in full sum.'

And Cirion understood... as if Elwand had spoken it plain. Many of those now gathered here, were tenants of the diverse Lordlings who lounged about the Great Hall. There could be no freedom of Council herein, for fear that such opinion as might be laid would be seen as standing against the interests of the Landlords; and spiteful imposition be later heaped upon those who held such sentiment. Cirion stood, and spoke;

'My Lords, you will now decamp from this place to the Ante-room yonder. There shall be no stifle of worthy debate in this place. I bid you now, begone.'

With much mutter and diverse mumbling, the Lordlings removed themselves to the Ante-room, beset with pique that their gambit was unmasked. When all had departed, and the sturdy oaken door was closed upon them, Cirion spoke again.

'Now, Master Elwand; I shall excuse myself from the assembled company and you may debate my proposal with freedom of conscience. When you have embraced a common resolve, come you to my chambers and apprise me of the same.'

She turned, and left the Great Hall.

Within the span of one-half of a Sundial -shadow, Stannard brought Elwand to her presence. He stood before her, and laid the resolve, saying;

'Majesty; there is common accord that your proposal of Tythe Levy is fair, and just; and is, but trifling imposition when weighed 'gainst what be owed to the Companions of Storien-Rhudd. There is, but one worm in the apple of contentment.'

Cirion needs must cloak a smile at this wondrously, rustic aside. She had not heard the same since she was a child, sporting in the golden meadows of the Shining Lands. Composing her demeanour, she enquired;

'And what then, might be this worm of which you speak, Master Elwand?'

Elwand held her in his steady gaze...

'T'is this; Majesty…The tenants are a'feared that their Landlords... who are, to the last one, Lords of your Court... will fatten and bolster their Tenant Tythes so that their landholding yield will not diminish in sum from the said Tythe Levy that shall also be laid upon them.'

Cirion attended his word. She had prevised this might too, be the lie of it. She had fashioned a resolve in her thoughts, and now chose to lay the same to the light. She spoke again;

'Master Elwand; be you landholder or tenant?

He made reply;

'I hold a parcel of land in the Hundreds of Dromnmhor, Majesty.'

Cirion enquired,

'What then, is the sum of this landholding, Master Elwand?'

He looked at her… a curious look;

'Why, t'is as was allotted by your Majesty, after Ling… Ten Hides in sum.'

Cirion looked upon him, and then, she looked to Stannard. She saw in his face that this was a thing, not in his knowing. She spoke, very softly… as if to herself;

'Ten Hides in sum?... Ten Hides in sum? I have known Palace gardens beyond such a trifling span as this. Did I not proclaim that one-third of the Realm be apportioned in lien to my Sword-brethren in gratitude for their Service to My Crown?'

Stannard flustered; he had no respond. He saw in her eyes the look that he had seen, but once... perhaps, twice before. He shivered. He cast about for some reply; but there was none to be grasped. At length, he spoke;

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

'Majesty, I know not of this; I was not privy to the apportionment of these gratuities. All allotments were made by a closed Council of Lords.'

Cirion attended his word. Her sky-blue, Agate eyes were cold… cold as the Blue Ice Peaks of the Shandalar Mountains. She spoke; her voice still soft… but hard-edged, like iron…

'So, t'would seem these scurvy knaves accroached the choicest parcels of land to their own advantage and left little in remain, save the crumbs, for my Heroes.'

Turning again to Elwand, she spoke once more.

'Master Elwand, 'an you assent; I have an Office of Court that I would bestow upon you… being laid tort as you were, of your rightful fiefdom under my Proclamation of Gratuity. I have a mind to establish you as Tythe Bailiff of the Realm, with Warrant to raise Constables in the diverse hundreds of this land. Your stipend will be met by the Royal Purse in sum well beyond that which your holding yield provides. I shall have this Realm fairly ministered, and you shall carry my Warrant to see that it is so done. 'An you agree, then we shall lay down the precepts of your office, and the powers that you, and your chosen Constables shall hold to prosecute the same. What say you, Master Elwand; will you accept my bestowal?'

Elwand regarded Cirion with not a little surprise. He was silent for a while, and then…

'Aye, Majesty, I shall accept your service, and pleased to do so.'

Returning to the Great Hall, Cirion bade Stannard to bring back the Lordlings from the Ante-room. When they were all assembled, she told of her resolve of Tythe Levy and such impositions as were now set in place. The levy would fall due, five moons beyond Harvest Home. For each refutation of levy, then would the said levy be bolstered by one further tenth of the sum. Further; if this was refuted, it would be bolstered once again, 'till it stood at one full-fifth of yield. If the Tythe gatherers were still refuted, then the holding would be sequestered.

No tenant would be Tythe-levied whilst Tythe was paid by him to his landlord. Any Lordling Landholder who demurred and resisted sequestration would have his holdings seized by the Crown; be removed from Court, and banished from out of the Realm. The Tythe levy would hold for two summers, or until the Lokarian meadows yielded harvest.

There would be no exceptions countenanced from those holdings subject to Levy. A Tythe Bailiff was now appointed with Royal Warrant to raise a Constabulary to oversee the whole. The Tythe Bailiff was further granted autonomous authority under The Crown to sequester and apportion such lands to the common good of the holdings in, and about the precincts of the aforesaid sequestered holding.

When all was laid before them, there was no dispute from the commonage. The whole was embraced as fair and just. This was not, though, the case with the Lordlings. They saw that their Queen held in full reveal, their gambit of covert deception concerning the gratuities of allotment. In the main, the more timid of their company chose to embrace the Tythe Levy in sum, rather than wager their indolent Courtly lot; but there were two, or three... being more beset by greed than common wit, who chose to conspire together to resist this perceived imposition on their wastrel perseity.

How they might accomplish this was not yet for the knowing. Whatever it might be, it needs-must be hatched in covert array, for it could be deemed Treasonable. Cirion had watched the Lordlings, and saw plain, the prowl of animosity on the countenances of the conspirators. She would have these Lordlings watched. Here; was a whisper of the ghost of her grandmother; and had they known the same; then the conspirators would, most certain-sure have embraced sturdy cause to be much afraid.

In the west; the vermin of The Abyss yet made lurk and slink about the empty plain betwixt the grey, flinty mountains and the Girdle of Amriath as they sought some weakness... some flaw in the shield of defence laid about their quarry... The Golden Child. Time and again, they assailed the "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting." Time and again came the blue flash and burst of flaming as they were snared by The Cold Fire-Shield, and hurled back to their grisly doom in the fiery embrace of The Burning Fire Shield. T'would be thought that the perceive of the cindering of their companions in plain view, might lay tale before the remain that they could not effect an incurse in such manner. But… it did not.

Still they came, and still were they consumed in sturdy sum. Their Master; The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark" had chosen, by design; not to endow these vermin with a shred of wit. They were created for no other purpose than slaughtering those who would oppose the Dominion of Baelar, and his invocation of the dread, creeping "Night of Shadows Rising," where he would turn all back to Chaos, as it was in the Age of Beginnings.

This assail of the western borders had now spanned five summers in sum, and no end to be seen in the numbers thrown against the defence. For, as they were destroyed, so Baelar spawned more from the dross of the Abyss. Beyond the Enchanted Girdle, the plain lay grey with the ashes of his venomous intent. But, still they came. The Girdle held... it would ever hold, for it was of the Old Magic.

At Arlanronde, The Golden Child gathered in her clutch of youngling summers in placid accord. She was free to play in the meadows and greenings with her brother; for there was ever a guardian watcher close by. Torbair of Aiuthal had brought for her a pair of white Staghound pups that gambolled and played about the younglings' feet. This was a sound gift; for as Kathalyn Seregon grew... so then would the pups. They might be later trained as War-hounds; and Staghounds were the finest War-hounds of all. When Kathalyn Seregon embraced her Destiny, t'was as like, she might ride to War in company with these hounds, which would be advantage indeed. With the bond betwixt Mistress and hound secure since their whelping; then the hounds would hazard all... even to the sum of their own dooming; to protect her from such peril as might manifest itself about her.

On the eastern borders of Amriath, the Shadow-Wraiths made flit and prowl all along the watchtowers of Rhyddu. They imposed sturdy clenching of bowels in recur, to the watchers, as the shades made wreathsome glide and stealthy slink; scarce beyond a pair of cubits reach from the stand of the edifices. The sturdy watch platforms echoed their wailing, wordless cries of seethe that made the blood run cold. However they might try, the Shadow-Wraiths could secure no insinuation through the Enchanted Girdle. Hereabouts, was scarce a blue flash, and bursting of fire perceived. The Shadow-Wraiths possessed guile. They did not dash themselves against The Cold Fire-Shield, as did the witless Chutaks in the west. 'Nay; in receipt of losing one, or two of their kind to the entrapment; they stood off, and made restless, slinking prowl all along the Heights of Rhyddu; ever alert to some weakness in the defences.

At Rhom; Tristan had bolstered the watch. Now, since the abiding slink and prowl of the Shadow-Wraiths all along the watchtowers; he had settled the term of watch at the stretch in span of no more than four Sundial-shadows for each turn of watch. In this, the sentinels would stay alert as they scanned the prospect of the Heights of Rhyddu. Here would creep no indolence to weary gaze or restive demeanour. Thus, the City would be ever alert, should a Shadow-Wraith accomplish a breaching of the Enchanted Girdle. There was in truth, slender prospect of such a calamity… but it was as well to endue a broad defence, nonetheless.

Rhom was not a quarry of weighty significance for supposed aggress of the Shadow-Wraiths… 'nay, she lay far into the west; but Tristan was the Protector of the eastern Bastion, and he also had charge of protection of youngling future Guardians. There was Mirien; Calamar and Eilanna's First-born, who now held close on eight summers. Then, there was Klara; the First-born of Trillian and Serena, who held a tender span of seven summers. Tristan doted on his granddaughters… no minacious shade would be permitted to take them.

Further west… at Calverstock; Callam had doubled his watchers in like kind to Rhom. He too, had youngling Guardians to protect. The First-born of Callam and Staisha… Beshlie now held a little beyond six summers. Her younger sister: Tarelena was in receipt of three summers. So it was; a heedful watch was kept on the heights to the south… Grimspound Brea above Calverstock Gill; and the scarp to the east, and to the west of the same. If incurse was to be made, it would be from hereabouts. The Guardians of The Light were resolved in common accord that the next generation of Guardians would prevail. These delicate, fresh blossoms of The Light would flourish, shielded by the Oneness of The Light, from the imperilment of The Darkness.

Three full Moon spans passed without issue, after the bolstering of the watches in Arlanronde, in Rhom; and in Calverstock. Still, in the west, was the lurk and prowl all along the border. Still, in the west was a sturdy sum of blue flash and burst of flaming as the witless Chutaks endeavoured to breach the Enchanted Girdle, albeit, the cinders and ashes of their kind lay deep about their feet.

Distantly, on the eastern border of Amriath; still, was there flit and slink of the Shadow-Wraiths all along the watchtower chain on the Heights of Rhyddu. Here, there was no witless essay in breaching the Girdle. Here, there was, but sinister wend, and baleful linger, as the Shadow-Wraiths progressed from watchtower to watchtower, abiding; and watching for some weakness…perhaps, some rive in the whole. Alas; to their acerbity, there was none. The spell-cast of the Old Magic held sturdy. So; The Shadow-Wraiths prowled Rhyddu; their wailing, wordless cries of seethe echoed the watchtowers, and carried faint on the whimpering winds of Malphaers, even down unto Rhom.

In this space of time; from the palisades of Calverstock, a careful watch had been kept on the scarp of Grimspound Brea above Calverstock Gill to the south. 'Naught had been forthcoming as yet; perhaps, the Darklings chose to decry incurse from here, being in plain sight to all who might choose to gaze into the south. Then, one morning, a sharp-eyed young sentry beheld a speck in the skies above the canopy of The Delvlings. It was coming from out of the north, and it was moving at great pace.

He called the Alarm, and soon enough, was joined on the northern brattice by Callam. In watching, they saw it was a Merlin; a Merlin flying as swift as ever they had seen a Merlin fly. As they watched; it lowered its stand in the sky and hurtled across the clearing that compassed Calverstock. It seemed it must dash itself 'gainst the palisade; but, at the last... it rose, then turning as only a Merlin may turn, alighted upon the brattice before them. Under their startled gaze, it made shape-shift, and before them stood Jhastor, the Shadaiian Shadow-Watcher of the Forest of Raventhorn Scar. Who leaned against the palisade, gasping and bereft of wind. When he had gathered breath, he laid before them grim, and ominous intelligences.

Jhastor told that the Shadaiian leader; Archernan, had caused the Yeranoor Shadowlands and the Wastes of Plenmellar to be oft-times patrolled in depth. The Shadaiian patrols had progressed in shape-shift as ravens, as crows; and as hawks. They found there, a gruesomeness. These reaches had been ravaged... close in equal to Astalan, when laid 'gainst the tell of what The Lord Eldamar had discovered in that distant, ruined Realm.

The Shadaiians had flown league upon league, round and about the Yeranoor Shadowlands and the Wastes of Plenmellar, and none were there to be found alive. They had come down on FionnMhor Moss and elected to seek out Fionndell, the settlement in FionnMhor Rift; the deep, wooded valley wherein dwelt the Brotherhood of FionnMhor.

They found Fionndell laid to waste. All the Brotherhood… their bond-mates… their younglings, were slaughtered. Torn and mangled bodies sprawled, all scattered about… some consumed in part. There too, were a sizeable number of carcasses of their assailers... gruesome creatures possessing large mouths… more lipless maws beset with sharp, needle-like teeth. They possessed no nose in the common manner… 'nor did they possess eyes with black centres. Their eyes were 'naught, but pale, yellow orbs. The Shadaiians had never seen the like. The tracks thereabouts, led out to northerly east… and to northerly-east lay the Great Hall of Penvallanar; the steading of Thallian Beckstrider and his bond-mate, the Sorceress Shahran of Penvallanar.

The Shadaiians had returned to Raventhorn and laid the tell of what they had espied. Archernan had despatched Jhastor in full haste to bring this dreadful information to the knowing of The Lord Guardian. He had progressed to Calverstock, which was the nearer than was Rhom, in the space of a little less than one Sundial shadow-span.

Callam hearkened the tell. He was beset with puzzlement. Why would The Darkness choose to wrack the Shadowlands? T'was not as though any Guardian dwelt there. This was indeed, a weighty conundrum. Then… suddenly, sprang the knowing… the truth of it. These vermin sought not, the Guardians.

He recalled Eldamar's tell of the doom of the Mage of Eredun, and of the Witching Mistress, Justalyn of Luxtan; the slaughter of the Cabal of Bradda… the destruction of The Revered Mother of The Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel: Ainariel Fefalas.

Eldamar had told that his first companion on his quest to Astalan: Feawen Arcamen; was a Wiccen Priestess. All of these victims were of the Wiccen Rede. So too, was the Sorceress Shahran of Penvallanar. The fearful truth stalked the brattice like some wild beast. T'was as plain as if writ upon parchment. The Darkness had resolved that, if the Guardians of The Light and their Issue could not be taken; why then… diminish the Power of The Light by assassinating those who held it in bind... the Moon maidens and White witches; each Prophetess and Sorceress, each Mage and Priestess of the Great Wiccen Rede. T'would be, as if, plucking strands from a cloak… within a slender span, the whole would unravel. Then, the Enchanted Girdle might be weakened enough for it to be breached.

Callam gave swift thanks to Jhastor and ran from the brattice. He called loud for his ostlers to saddle up a patrol of gryphons. He made roust of a clutch of the Companions of Elisriendell, who made haste to the waiting gryphons. All mounted and armed, they rose into the skies and turned into the north. They progressed as crow is wont to fly, in seek of Penvallanar.

At length, they came down upon the soft valley that cradled the Great Hall of Penvallanar. The great Ironed gateway was lurched in dangled depend upon broken hinges, and many of the gruesome Chutak carcasses lay sprawled; all hacked and bloodied, about the courtyard. Callam and a pair of his Companions of Elisriendell drew blade and made heedful progress within the Hall. Here, were sprawled more hacked Chutak carcasses. Whatever had manifested here, it stood plain that Thallian Beckstrider had discharged his defence in sturdy measure.

Callam found them in the Receiving chamber. Neither had perished prettily. Shahran lay upon her back; her sightless eyes gazing at the vaulted ceiling. She had been knifed many times about her throat and breast. Her garments were sundered, and great collops had been hacked from her breasts, her thighs, and her buttocks. Beckstrider bore many woundings. Some stroke of sword had taken his sword-arm away at the shoulder, and he too, had been colloped in manner, much the same as had been Shahran. But; there was this…

From the trail of blood, where his now-gnawed, sword-arm lay; it was seen that he had dragged himself across the flags to his Shahran, and lain, with his one good arm about her neck, and his bloodied head pillowed upon what remained of her bosom. Here, he had perished in one last embrace with his Lady. Thus, had passed Shahran, Sorceress of Penvallanar and her love from their spring-times…Thallian Beckstrider; Sword-brother to Eldamar, and Lord of The Brotherhood of FionnMhor. Gazing upon them; Callam lay sturdy hoping that they now lay safe in Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island; and that they were re-united with Beckstrider's daughter, The Lady Arlanna; fleeting bond-mate of his grandfather, Eldamar.

The bodies were taken out into the gardens of Penvallanar and laid to cairn. Then, decamp was made away from that place. Callam called his squadron to close muster. They would ride the skies in compassing scour to seek these vermin who had done this thing. They galloped into the east, towards where the Great Moat-Tower of Ghlinngar the Seer was supposed to lie. As they journeyed, Callam was filled with concern and worry.

The Darkness was concentring its malicious venom upon the Wiccen Rede. Who would be next? His thoughts scurried. There was Calelindi, at Calverstock; Torbair of Aiuthal's bond-mate; Ithilwen Silverleaf, in Elisriendell. Then there was her daughter, the young Sorceress Catalyn, at Arlanronde. All these were now imperiled. As he was pondering the same, they overflew a scarp. There, in the wide valley below, they perceived their quarry. Swiftly Callam hauled his gryphon about, as did his companions. They had imagined a squadron…. perhaps two. This was not as it was.

Below them, in the valley, there were gathered, what could be recounted with small measure of hyperbole as… an Army. The valley was black with them. Callam and his companions had stumbled upon a gathering place. The score in tally of those below must stand beyond twenty thousand. The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar" had not lain indolent, these summers past. He had spawned a terrible Army of Chutaks; chosen by design, not to be endowed with a shred of wit, but to embrace blindly such command as was laid upon them; an Army of merciless and frenzied flesh-eaters, created for no other purpose than slaughtering those who would oppose the Dominion of Baelar and his invocation of the dread, creeping "Night of Shadows Rising." And now, they massed below; bound to where… Callam could not know. All he knew was that he must recur to Amriath in all haste; He must raise the Alarm of the nightmare here found. As the gryphons turned again into the south, twenty=thousand pairs of eyes that were 'naught, but pale yellow orbs, watched their diminishing progress.

As soon as the gryphon flight made settle at Calverstock, Callam made haste to seek out Calelindi. He found her in the forge with Elshore. Swiftly, he lay tell of what they had stumbled upon in distant Yeranoor. He bade Calelindi fly out her eagle to apprise Eldamar of the Darkling gatherment. Elshore elected to ride in all haste to Rhom; there to forewarn Tristan of this thing. Hearkening to the clamour of the gryphons' return, Staisha came into the common ground of Calverstock. The Companions of Elisriendell told of their discovery. She enquired as to where was Callam, and was told he strode forth to the forge, there to seek out Calelindi. Staisha progressed thereto, and standing in the doorway, hearkened the ominous tell. She spoke swiftly;

'Come; saddle me a gryphon. I needs-must carry the tell to Marcus and Chelaine at the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere, and then journey onwardly into Elisriendell to lay fair apprise upon Torbair and Ithilwen Silverleaf.'

Callam looked to her.

'I have stern disrelish of this thing, Lady. The journey into Elisriendell will carry you close to the Enchanted Girdle and the vermin that lie in lurk and prowl beyond it. This is a perilous endeavour that you embrace so lightly.'

Staisha snorted;

'You coddle me to excess, husband. Do you so soon forget our ride down the flanks of Rhyddu, and the grave tutorment my Sisters and I imposed upon the Horanaurks? Was that not a perilous endeavour? Think you that I am a'feared of a clutch of mindless Darklings?'

Callam sighed; there would be no turning her from her resolve. How well he remembered that, of which she spoke... the charge of the Riders of Lothleitha all down the flanks of the Heights of Rhyddu at the Siege of Rhom. The Riders of Lothleitha… a frightening wave of pure white mounts with glittering horns; and Algethi-maiden riders clad in sun-sparkled Leissor mail, who, with sabres aloft, swept down from the heights to fall upon The Horanaurks and impose a dreadful reckoning on the edge of the Plain of Malphaers. The Riders of Lothleitha, who had broken the regiment of the Horanaurk, who, upon receipt of this assault had taken to rout, filling their breeches in terror in face of these glittering maidens mounted upon their dashing Unicorns.

Perhaps, he beset himself with disquiet in surfeit, of the supposed jeopardy. T'was certain-sure that he would not dissuade her from her sentiment in this matter. So be it! He would insist that she prevailed herself of escort. Two of the Companions mounted upon skirmishing gryphons would attend her as she journeyed into the west. He called out his ostler to prepare these peerless killers for the departure. He too, called out a pair of the Companions. Two Elisriendell Algethi stood to him and were apprised of their charge. The two who had stood forward were, by name: Lelldorin, and Amelorn; both sturdy, and fearless warriors who had stood with Callam at Rhyddu. They would tend and protect their Lord's Lady from adversity.

Calelindi had repaired from out of the forge, and stood with her eagle upon her arm. She whispered to it in some unknown tongue, and laid forth a parchment bearing the despatch concerning the Darkling gatherment to safe, taloned sight. Her eagle spread wing, and rising into the skies; flew swiftly away into the west.

Elshore came from the stables leading a great Rhola stallion. He swung into saddle, and bidding all farewell; galloped out of Calverstock, to compass the pair of leagues easterly to Rhom. Staisha came from out the Manor-Hall of Calverstock, buckling her sabre about her waist. The gryphons stood in attendance, held in rein by the ostler and two of his Ostle-lads.

The Companions… Lelldorin and Amelorn were already saddled; with their powerful double-curved, Algethi bows slung across their shoulders. Their skirmishing gryphons were armoured in manner the same as had been those of Eldamar and Torbair when they flew to the Pass of Hestrus. Their mail breastplates and talon sheaths glittered in the sunlight, as did the Golden leaf collars… the device of Calelindi. These were images of the Lothluthil Rowan leaf, being the symbol of Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being," and a sturdy defence against The Darkness.

Staisha mounted her gryphon and bade farewell to Callam and Calelindi. The three gryphons spread wing and rose up into the skies, turning to westerly and moving into arrowhead formation; Staisha being the foremost, with a skirmishing gryphon sentinel to either side. Soon, they were lost from sighting beyond the canopy of The Delvlings. Callam sighed; he needs-must now compass Calverstock with his Guard captain to attest to the sturdiness of the palisade in surround. He needs-must devise a plan of defence that would not grow stale in the keeping, for there was no knowing when the Darkling vermin might prosecute attack… if indeed, they ever would.

At Rhom, the sentinels spied the rider galloping from out the underwood of The Delvlings. He was coming on to the City at sturdy pace. Swiftly, they called the Watch captain, who came to the wall to see who this was. He saw at distance, that it was Elshore. Something must be afoot for the Master Sword-smith of Calverstock to approach at so sturdy a pace. He called for the gates to be opened, and hurried to seek out Tristan.

Elshore came into the Muster yard of Rhom at the gallop. He reined in the great Rhola Stallion in a flurry of iron-shod sparkings and leapt from the saddle. Tristan came swiftly from the Palace in company with Calamar. Elshore caught his breath and laid the ominous informations.

Calling for the captain to go, seek out Trillian and bring him to council, Tristan, Calamar, and Elshore made step across the Muster yard, bound for the Council Chamber of the Palace. As they progressed the corridors, Tristan called messengers to seek out the Great Council of Rhom. All must attend; none were to be excused. Here, was what he had feared; The Darkness was gathering in sum.

At Arlanronde, Eldamar was walking the gardens in company with Artanis. The younglings were sporting at the fishpond, as is the wont of the young. Suddenly, the young trooper Mallin, who had been a'sauntering with Alcina, pointed into the sky to eastwards. Turning about, they saw the great eagle in approach, its wings widespread to cast off its pace of flight. As it overflew, it let drop a parchment it had clutched in talon, which fell to Eldamar's feet. The eagle lifted away, curving around, then flew back into the east. Eldamar picked up, and unrolled the parchment. As he read the scribing, his face became stern. Artanis looked to him, and then looked to the younglings, beset with sudden apprehension.

'What is it, my Lord? What has come to passing?'

Eldamar regarded her; He said 'naught, but handed the parchment to her for her to read the same. As she so did, her face became pale. He watched her. Her lips moved as she read the sum; twenty-thousand?… and again… twenty-thousand? She looked at Eldamar; her eyes were large with alarm. Eldamar gazed at her softly. Where then, was the brazen, and bold warrior maid? Her motherhood had softened her to advantage. Another time, she would have laughed scorn upon this sum of foe, but, now?

Mallin and Alcina came to their side. Mallin petitioned that he might make peruse of the despatch. As he read, his face became sombre. There was no fear, but then… is that not always the way of the young?... and more so, when his lover stands beside him, as did Alcina. When he was done with the reading, he spoke;

'My Lord, we needs-must raise our forces in swift accord, to engage this rabble.'

Eldamar regarded this young trooper. This was no deceit to impress Alcina; this was the truthing as Mallin saw it.

Eldamar spoke;

'And where then, might we raise an Army to trounce these vermin? At best, 'an we strip the Realms; we might raise perhaps, ten- thousand. If we press the sum of Amriath in full measure, I doubt we could raise even another half of that beyond such tally. Think not that I decry you, trooper Mallin, for you have the fire of sorts that we shall most certainly need in the coming days. Ponder though… this; Shandalar is thin on Militia… this, you know. Khallis is beyond any conscribe. The Thuvian Lord, Thoris Barandor, shall not have call on any stern strength for many summers yet to come. Tristan has a thin reserve in Lorenfalu, beyond his need to hold the eastern border. The Shadaiians will aid if the need comes, but only in their chosen manner. The Brotherhood of FionnMhor is destroyed. All we have is what is here. Then, there are the Nemesis of Lothluthil, The Riders of Lothleitha; and such as Laumil of Elisriendell might muster. See now, we must bide our time until our younglings are grown enough to take blade and don the mantle of The Guardians of The Light. But, that time is for a fair clutch of summers yet to pass, for they still hold stars shining fully through their eyes.'

Yet, in the thoughts of Eldamar, there lingered one last hope, should all else fail, and the Enchanted Girdle be weakened by simple force of numbers such as the Darklings now held. That last hope was Trethan of Chandar; Sword-brother of old, and paramour… perhaps, by now… even bond-mate to Segartis; The Throng Mistress of the warrior women of Seuna. T'was truth that they were far away; t'was truth that they might not make respond, for this was not their conflict. Nonetheless, t'was worth holding in remembrance. It might be that the Partisan maids… who by now, would most surely be emplaced as the Astalan Guard, might answer the convoke. All this was, but clutching at straws; but in truth…. there was little else.