Chapter Eight.

Shadow-Wraiths!

In Seuna, The warrior maiden Host stood down, and was released to return to their settlements and farms. There would be no more incursions from the north; the barbarians were destroyed. All was returning to peace and tranquility, until one day, some score of moons in passing beyond the Massacre of Sennragen, the dust of a rider was seen galloping in from the northerly-west.

The Sentinel maidens were snatched from their indolent watch by the thunder of gallop in approach to the Great Stronghold of Ardenrhyne. Gazing out, they perceived a single rider, silver haired and sturdy; crouched low in saddle. As the rider came closer they saw it was a male. T'was not the Lord Guardian of The Light, so who might it be?

Onward he came; swinging onto the steep, and winding, flagged pathway that led up to the mighty gate-tower. He paid no heed to the swiftly-thrown challenge, but turned his steed in full gallop, to thunder up through the cobbled streets; the sparks leaping from his iron-shod progress. Startled warrior maidens pressed themselves against the walls of the dwellings, less they mired his sturdy passing.

He clattered into the muster yard of the Great Citadel, leaping from out of the saddle. In complete disregard of the Guards' sabre-drawn challenge, he strode to the Citadel portal calling loud to be conveyed into the presence of Segartis; Throng Mistress of Seuna.

Who came running in haste, from out of the Citadel with Ginessa; whose sabre was, even now, half-drawn in her hand. Segartis lay startled gaze upon this sturdy male; seeing his silver locks, his great eye patch, and his soft, wry smile playing about his countenance... the same smile he had gifted her at that first Council at Luxtan. She made astonished halt upon the Citadel steps; her eyes wide, her mouth open in complete surprise. She gasped,

'Trethan?... Oh, Trethan… is it in truth, You?'

He laughed, a great, booming laugh that echoed the courtyard.

'Aye, t'is me; though, a little lighter in the weighing.'

He tapped his eye-patch with his sword hand that now lacked two fingers.

'But, you should know, sweet one, it stands need of far more than a covey of scurvy Darklings to keep Trethan of Chandar from attending his Lady.'

And, with tears tumbling her cheeks; Segartis, Throng Mistress of Seuna, ran to her love and threw her arms about his neck as he lifted her up and spun her about, as if she were a youngling; with her feet all kicking up off the flags of the courtyard as he kissed her long, and he kissed her deep; with the Guards standing slack-jawed at this spectacle.

Arm in arm, they withdrew to the Citadel. Ginessa gave plain, her instructions to the Guard. None, were now permitted entry; no matter how sturdy the cause. For now, all things were to be laid at her door. The Throng Mistress was engaged, and would not be disturbed. For Ginessa had seen this bright flame of love shining in the eyes of Segartis, and held inclination that here, might be the gentle dawn of a new beginning for the Realm of Seuna. For, in the end; the warrior maidens of Seuna were still female; and Ginessa, for one; had an awakened taste for something more than a single, dispassionate, summer coupling with some abducted and cowed male in the deep of the forest. She too, longed to embrace the knowing of the look in the eyes of Segartis as she gazed upon her Trethan.

Within the Citadel, Segartis and Trethan took of refreshment, beset with joy in the company of each other. Each had thought the other lost in the ambuscade of the Galdors in the Great Forest of Cuthalion. There was much laying tale of what had befallen each, and of how they had each prevailed. At length, they took leave of each other to retire to chamber. Trethan lay in the great bed in his apportioned chamber; silent, in muse and ponder of what had passed before. There came a knocking upon the door. He called leave to enter, and within, stepped Segartis, saying,

'I thought to come to you to attest to your comfort… but, what is amiss my Dearling? Art ever so silent.'

Trethan gifted her a sad smile,

'T'is nothing; I was, but musing on the demise of my Dynasty since my younglings perished at Luxtan. For now, I stand as the last of my line.'

Segartis came close to the great bed. Standing before him, she smiled softly, and let slip her gown, all whispering, to the floor. With her gaze soft, and steady, she permitted him to drink in the sweetness of her nakedness, lit golden pale in the candle-glow. Then, slipping into the great bed beside him, she reached for him and enfolded him in her soft, feminine warmth; murmuring,

'Then methinks, this night we needs-must strive to found a new Dynasty; You and I.'

She pressed a hushing finger to his lips, so he might not say a word; gently, yet insistently, pulling him upon her into the friendship of her welcoming thighs. Her smile was soft and gentle; but her eyes were hot and wanton.

Far to the north; Laurana and her Partisan maids were clearing the Citadel of the barbarian carcasses and liberating Berenvag's harem, in preparing to bring the whole back into being as the Royal Palace. As Elder daughter; Laurana was, by right of birth, now Queen of Astalan; though it was a ruined Queendom that she held in her hands. Her little sister Sanya was still not found. Thus, word was sent to Amberdrove to ride forth in scour of such sum of Naigias that remained standing, in prosecution of search and winnow. Such barbarians as yet might be found in these places of rape and despoilment were to be slaughtered out of hand, and all captive maids released.

Meantime; something need be done in concern of the stagnant moat. The despatch of the tyrant Berenvag had enticed a great sum of insects to his festering carcass. A foray was made all about the Citadel, and t'was seen that the moat had once been fed with a pair of sluices; the upper sluice charged the moat from a great pond that was 'plenished from out of the smoky-blue hills. The lower sluice was beset by a great culvert which unlaid water from the moat into the Great Marsh of Rachlareth. Both had been shunned for many moons; the rusting lay thick and red upon the engines for lifting the rising gates. This would be a conundrum for Yara the smithy when she achieved the Citadel from out of Amberdrove.

Three moons in passing; and Yara stood before Laurana in receipt of her appraisal of the moat purging devices, and lay the tell in concern of the standing of the sluices on the moat. She stood all mud-bespattered and stained with rust from her measure of the same. She told that the supposed ruination of the ratcheting engines was but, an illusion. T'would, as like, need a sturdy measure of winding about of the great raising handles, but there was 'naught to be perceived that would gift meddle in the matter of the lifting of the sluice gates.

So it was; a parcel of sturdy Partisan maids were assembled to this end. Yara elected that the sluice at the nether reaches of the moat… that one which gifted spill to the Great Marsh of Rachlareth, be lifted at the first. Yara reasoned that t'were a sounder plan to free the stinking and stagnant sum of the moat, 'ere the top sluice were lifted. In this, she elected that the sudden rush of fresh water would scour the sum of the moat in sturdier array than it would if the moat prevailed in overfill. Here, was one more thing to advantage. The Tuor, wherein the festering, and bloated, flyblown carcass of the tyrant Berenvag drooled its corruption, gifting offence to the noses all about; would be carried away on the rushing spate of the fresh water. The nether sluice would be fully raised; and it was, as like, that the noisome whole would be swept away into the Great Marsh; there to linger and rot until all was consumed in the belly of the mire.

The maids toiled at the winding handle of the nether sluice until, with a great and offensive sucking noise, the gate began to lift. As it so did, the stagnant gruel which once had been water made slither and sliming out into the marsh. The maids made cough and wince, with not a little retch as they wound up the sluice to full measure. That the stink offended the nose was but pale likeness in tell to the smell that rose about them. What might be in the noisome deepings of the moat was not for the telling; but soon enough, they would know.

With the nether sluice at full rise, they repaired to the top sluice. As they passed, they cut the tetherings to the Tuor, striving to bridle their retch, and not gaze upon its gruesomely repugnant lading of the bloated and rotting carcass of the tyrant Berenvag. At the top sluice; there was no disrelishing sucking noise; t'was 'naught but creak and grind at the first. Then the sluice was free; lifting up in smooth rise as the fresh water burst into the moat, sweeping all before, and scouring the depths that slowly became clear to their gaze.

Now, they saw why it so stank. Here, they looked upon whitening bones; here they looked upon rotting carcasses. They knew that the tyrant Berenvag embraced a taste for hanging his victims about the walls of the Citadel. T'was here, plain in the seeing; that whence they had screamed and writhed their last; at length, they were cut down to tumble into the moat. Well then; was this not fitting retribution that Berenvag should have met his doom in their company?

As they watched, the whole sum of this watery charnel house began to be swept away. Swiftly; they needs must repair to the lower sluice to oversee the passing of this seething, reeking midden out into the belly of the marsh.

How then? It might be asked; could there be gained such torrent of water to prosecute this thing? The respond to this question was this: Laurana's father, The King; had gathered the finest Stone-masters in the Kingdom of Astalan to raise the Palace. They had hatched a plan of subtle guile to make certain sure that the moat would be ever sweet. In the hillside above the Palace; just where the fresh springs burst out of the smoky-blue hills, they had scoured a great hollow; which, when lined with stone, would stand as a gathering cistern. At the nether end, they had crafted a great sluice of sturdy oaken plankings bound about with iron. This sluice, when raised up, would gift forth the fresh water gathered in the cistern into the moat.

Beyond the sluice was a step crafted into the cistern, being some two-cubits in deeping below the common reach of the cistern walls. This was to afford the water that gathered to excess beyond brimming the cistern, to spill thereover; which, in time, had scoured the hillside to become the Rachlareth beck. At the far reach of the moat was raised another sluice, being part of a great culvert, over and about which was raised an edifice in manner of a sally port. This, to gift protection to the sluice, so that such foe as might elect to attack the same, and thus, drain the moat for ease of assault, would be sturdily confounded.

It was here, that the maids now gathered; kerchiefs about their mouths and noses to afford some respite from the loathsome stink. Each held a long pole, with which they pushed and prodded the tumbling carcasses and bones into the maw of the culvert; less any mired themselves in progress out into the Great Marsh of Rachlareth. See there! The Tuor bearing the stinking remains of Berenvag, in cheerful and jouncing progress towards them! The Tuor made gift of a sturdy striking to the wall of the culvert and began to sunder. The slimy and stinkingly rotting carcass was pitched into the swirl.

The maids gave swift and sturdy prodding and push; for if it struck the walls; so bloated and straining was the putrid skin … t'would surely rive its mouldering flesh to the stink and spatter of all; and the prowl of retch was upon them, even now. Then it was gone; swept away into the marsh. Thus passed the barbarian vermin who held name Berenvag. There would be none to mourn his passing as he was enfolded into the arms of the Great Marsh of Rachlareth; forgotten, as if he had never been born.

With the Dragon flask safe found; the troop of Fiannah's Avalquare bid Artanis and Eldamar farewell and turned for home. At the Palace; Eldamar lay tell to Laurana that they had found her younger sister Sanya at the settlement standing close by to the borders of Seuna. Laurana; overjoyed at this reveal, had despatched a ride of Partisan maids to bring her forth to the Palace. In her gratitude, she sent word to Amberdrove that those there in remain, should bring out fresh victuals in supply of Eldamar and Artanis as they rode into the north. But for now, they must repose at the Palace for a while, before they progressed onwards.

Eldamar told that they would stand forth to the settlement where once, Trethan dwelt; and lay the tell that he would not be in the return to that place. For they knew not of his prevailment at this time, and made presumption that whence he became sturdy once again, he would progress to the Great Stronghold of Ardenrhyne to be with his Segartis.

Eldamar and Artanis would gather victuals in this place. Here, was as much as they might carry about themselves; indeed, more than enough to see them to the Manor of the Mage of Eredun. Here, Beriana would victual them once again. This would sustain them the span of ride to Amberdrove, where they would array replenish to sustain them to the remains of the great victual cache at the borders of The Plain of Malphaers. This cache was sturdy-secure. Lokari had spent a great sum of guile in its raising. Here, were victuals that would not have spoiled in the time passing. The only vexation was for water.

Artanis had told that if, they progressed to the north, instead of turning to west; they would strike the reaches of the Hills of Tillethmhor within one moon's passing. This was her homeland; here was water a'plenty, for the hills ran fat with fresh springs. Here too, rode the Cabal of Bradda. T'was as like they would be held in intercept within a slender span in passing. Even if they were not, there was no sturdy concern. Arfeiniel was not a ravaged land, as was Astalan. There were settlements and farmsteadings in abundant sum. They could elicit victuals as they rode west to Bradda. None would stand them deny; for Artanis was known in these places.

As Eldamar and Artanis made prepare to ride out; there came from out of Seuna, the Partisan maids. With them was little Sanya. The sisters were reunited, and all stood well. There was, but one, last, troublesome conundrum. No sign had been seen of the two Great Swords of The Custodians of Asteth Tarsi... The Guardians of The Star of The East, that were thought to have fallen into the clutches of The Darklings. They were not in the ruins of Luxtan, nor were they to be found in the Palace. These two swords, having been seized from Kerrin and Lirilith; the son and daughter of Trethan, needs must be found… for, as was previous said; in the hands of barbarian Darklings, such power as they might hold would stand blighted and dangerous.

Laurana laid covenant that the Realm would be scoured. Word would be sent into Seuna to winnow the far reaches of the tyrant Berenvag's Dominion. If the swords yet prevailed, they would be found; and so, Artanis and Eldamar made ready to ride away from the Palace of Astalan. The Realm was now safely held in the embrace of the two Royal sisters. Astalan would, in time, rise again.

Eldamar and Artanis rode away in the bright of the morning, tracing the trackway along which countless victims of Berenvag had been dragged screaming to their doom in his dreadful stronghold. The Great Marsh of Rachlareth lay to each side, silent as the grave. It held safe, its secrets. It was not for the knowing of the sum of Berenvag's victims that it held in its black embrace.

Soon, they reached the cleave of the pathways, and turning to northwards, rode out and away into the Plain of Astalan. To the east, the smoky-blue hills marched beside them, soft-hued in the morning sunlight. All was silent and still; the land lay, as if, in mend from some feverish ague.

In good heart, yet still watchful; they rode the morning. The smoky-blue hills dove to the plains and, then, began to rise again. T'was hereabouts that they had encountered the Tur-anion Death Cabal. Hereabouts, had Artanis beheaded their leader with one swift stroke of her deadly Wiccen Rede sword. This day, there were no black riders on the scarp; this day, there would be no intercept.

In the space of three sundial-shadows, they rode down into the little hamlet in the deep coomb where Trethan of Chandar had made his abode. There, to greet them again, stood the Elder who had, at the first, greeted them in that place, now close on seven moon wanings in passing. With him stood Seremela, the Sorceress of the hamlet. Eldamar told of the losing of Kerrin and Lirilith; the younglings of Trethan. He told that it was not as like, that Trethan would return to this place. He thought that Trethan would make for the Realm of Seuna, and his Segartis. Eldamar then spoke of the singular efficaciousness of Seremela's giftings... The Wreathing Enchantment; the Lothluthil leaf Periapts, and the cloaking of countenance. She smiled, saying the score was trifling when held to the prevailment out on the wastes of Sennragen.

Artanis stood her aside, and they spoke softly of the Benison of the Wiccen Rede. This was not for the ears of males; this was some other thing, known only to the Wiccen Rede. Eldamar remembered when it was intoned, of the fleeting glance shared betwixt Seremela and Artanis, who knew of these things. The glance that told him plain, that there was more to this Benison than the simple benefaction they professed. He knew not what it might be; it was as like, he never would. But he remembered the look in Artanis's eyes that told him plain that he would not want to be a Horanaurk who chanced upon their progress. Should he ask of the meaning of this Benison? As if she had read his thoughts, Artanis turned to gaze upon him, and he read in her eyes that he should not.

After they had taken of food and drink in the roundhouse of the Elder; Eldamar enquired whether they might rest in this place for the night. The Elder conveyed them to the roundhouse that had been the abode of Trethan, saying they were welcome to remain in the Hamlet for such span of time as they so desired. Within the roundhouse, Eldamar and Artanis made prepare for sleeping.

They reposed in the great bed that had been Trethan's, but sleep was not in the mind of Artanis. She had not shared her favours with Eldamar for some lengthy span of late; being engaged in matters of war. Now, with the shadow of peril laid by the heels, she turned to him and took of her pleasure in manner the same as she had previous, as they had progressed The Plain of Malphaers.

They tarried in the hamlet for two moons whilst their mounts rested. The folk of the hamlet were thirsty for news of what had befallen the barbarians in the south; for the dark plumings of smoke from the pyre on Sennragen stained the whole of the southern skies. The tell was made of what had come to passing.

All was laid forth to these goodly folk. Eldamar lay tell of the losing of Kerrin and Lirilith, and too, of the firing of Luxtan and the fate of the Witching Mistress, Justalyn. He told of Trethan; of how he was last seen beset with sore woundings. But, they were not to fret… Trethan was a tough old warhorse; t'was , as like as not, that even now, he reposed in the arms of his love, Segartis, the Throng Mistress of Seuna within the Citadel of the Stronghold of Ardenrhyne, even as this tell was here laid.

On the third day, beset with victuals and water, they bade farewell to the hamlet folk and turned to northerly-west for the lonesome ride to the Manor of The Mage of Eredun, and thence on to Amberdrove. The smoky-blue hills shadowed their progress for the span of the morning as they rode the Plain of Astalan. Here, there was nothing, save the few small ruined settlements they had perceived on their outwardly ride. Soon, they would come down onto the Manor. Beyond the last of the ruined settlements, t'was a little less than a pair of Sundial shadows in ride.

Soon enough, there before them, lay the Manor. As they made approach; Beriana, the Mage of Eredun, and her bond companion, Alyx, stood forth in greetings well met; and whilst Alyx tended their mounts to stable, Beriana ushered them into the refuge of the Manor.

There was much to tell of what had come to passing since last, they stood in the Manor. Eldamar lay tell of all things; the destruction of the barbarian Horde in the wastes of Sennragen; the doom of the tyrant Berenvag, and of how the two sisters; The Princess Laurana, and the younger Princess Sanya were safely settled in their father's Palace. He told of how there would no more be the fear in the night of Galdor Huskaars or Tur-anion Death Cabals. All were now staining the southerly skies with the smoke of their pyre. Laurana and her Partisans had burned out all of the loathsome Naigias and freed the captive maidens.

There might be a handful of these verminous barbarians yet drawing breath in widesome scatter; but, they were of small issue. The Partisans maids out of Amberdrove winnowed the land in search of them, even now. He told of the burning of Luxtan, and of the fate of Justalyn; Wiccen Rede Priestess of Astalan; and of his sword-brother's younglings. Beriana and Alyx sat silent, hearkening the tell. At length, Beriana spoke,

'So, all that was foreseen has come to passing; but the losing of Justalyn in such a manner is indeed grievous to the circle of The Wiccen Rede. She held the southerly Hundreds of Astalan in balance within the circle of The Rede. Think not, My Lord, that I disdain the losing of your sword-brother's younglings in this matter. Justalyn was cairned in reverence, and with sound protocol; but, I fear I needs-must journey in haste to her resting place to lay upon her, part…The Second, of the Benison of the Wiccen Rede; for the warrior maidens of Seuna would not know of this thing that needs now, must be done.'

Eldamar gifted her a stare beset with puzzlement; that word… yet again. He spoke,

'This Benison of the Wiccen Rede; oft times have I hearkened to it spoke of, upon this quest. What then, does it mean?'

Artanis turned to gaze upon him, and he read in her eyes that he should not prosecute this issue further. Beriana saw too, the look in the eyes of Artanis, and smiled gently. She spoke again,

'Artanis; think you not that The Lord Eldamar… he, whom you have chosen to sire you a daughter who shall in time, become the most Revered and powerful Wiccen Rede Priestess in all of the Eastern Realms, does not stand deserving to know of this thing?'

Artanis stared at Beriana with disbelief plain upon her face. With her words a'stumble, she gasped...

'But… but, how would you know…?'

Beriana smiled; a smile that was soft, and benevolent. A smile such as a mother would gift to a headstrong daughter.

'You forget, child… I am the Mage of Eredun, and thus, can see all things. When, at length, you broach the borders of Arfeiniel, you shall discover that your Moon-flow has forsaken you, and you shall be with child. This child shall be a beautiful daughter to be birthed upon the Eve of Lammas, one summer hence. You shall name her Kathalyn; and she shall grow to become The Revered Mother in the stead of Ainariel Fefalas.

Ainariel Fefalas made dalliance with The Lord Eldamar in her bothy that night as he travelled to easterly with Feawen Arcamen, before she embraced her doom at the behest of Baelar, "The Lord of The Underdark." Feawen Arcamen was with child; the sum of issue betwixt her and The Lord Eldamar. This child would have grown to become The Revered Mother. Thus, were mother and daughter destroyed as one, by an intelligencer of Baelar, and the sum contrived to appear as fateful mishap. Before this came to passing, Ainariel had hoped that The Lord Eldamar would sire her a daughter, who would become The Revered Mother in her stead. Alas, Ainariel was too deep in her summers and the seed did not set. So now, it is the wont of the High Council of the Wiccen Rede that this charge be passed to your daughter when she comes of age.'

Artanis stood voiceless, and pale of countenance before the Mage of Eredun, who spoke further…

'This child shall be embraced by the full Dominion of the Benison of the Wiccen Rede and the kinship of The Lord Guardian of The Light. Thus, shall she stand as both Wiccen Rede High Priestess, and Guardian of The Light. Kathalyn Seregon shall stand from her Sixteenth summer as a Mighty Bastion of The Light in the Western Realms. Her pathway is forechosen, even now before she be conceived. Her destiny stands fully embraced in the Dreaming of Elaiana... "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being." It is even now settled that Kathalyn Seregon shall be "The Golden Child," who shall occasion the ruination of The Dark Lord's Dominion.'

Eldamar looked to Artanis… Artanis looked to him. Neither made utter a word. Seeing this; Beriana now chose to make the reveal of the Benison of the Wiccen Rede to Eldamar whilst Artanis stood voice-struck. She spoke,

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'The Benison of the Wiccen Rede is a Benediction gifted to Wiccen Rede warrior maidens as they stand off on some foray. But, it is much more than that. It is the gifting of the sum of the knowing of all Martial skills and Strategy of War. T'is the sum of all the guilefulness of all of the Wiccen warrior maids that have ever been. It is, as if, a reading stone be held to the rays of the sun; all is concentred into the one. All of this is bestowed upon she who is in receipt of the Benison of the Wiccen Rede. While she prosecutes her endeavour, it is as if she is held in the arms of The Great Mother, herself. This then, is part… The First, of the Benison of the Wiccen Rede.

Part… The Second; which I needs must invoke upon the cairn of my sister Justalyn; is to open the pathway by which Justalyn might travel to join the circle of those who have gone before; so she might gift her knowing to the sum of the whole. If she is not given to the pathway; then all that she ever was, will be lost... as are tumbled teardrops in summer rain. In this reveal; you, my Lord Eldamar, are the only male in living memory to be so apprised.'

Eldamar stood before Beriana, Mage of Eredun, and could find no word to gift her. This was far beyond Algethi foresight; this was far beyond Thuvian Rune-casting. Here, was laid before him, the pathway of a daughter as yet, not conceived. Never had such a thing been heard of in all the Shining Lands. Artanis was very silent. She had imagined that she might well conceive a child… indeed, she hoped that she would. A child who would grow into a warrior maid and take her mother's place among the riders of the Cabal of Bradda. This, of which Beriana laid tell, was a differentness.

This child that would grow in her belly would be a preciousness far beyond the preciousness a mother holds to her unborn infant. What if there was some mishap? It was common for childing-founder in first-bearing mothers unless great care was taken whilst such a mother was with child; and both were in close harmony to the land and its rhythms.

As if Beriana had read the thoughts of Artanis, which indeed, she may well have done; The Mage of Eredun smiled gentle upon her.

'Stand not in fearing, Artanis; when the infant stands conceived, she shall be in full harmony, and will prevail full span of carry. She shall come forth in sturdy fettle. But, enough of this; let us eat and thence, repair to our chambers; for you have a sturdy ride to Amberdrove on the morrow.'

In their bedchamber, Artanis lay in the arms of Eldamar, whispering her uncertainties into his shoulder. The tell of Beriana had unsettled her humour. Why then, had she been so chosen to bring forth this wondrous child? She was Cabal rider; she knew 'naught of the weavings of the Wiccen Rede. Her skill was with the sword; not gifting tutorment to the next Revered Mother. Eldamar gentled her. For such things, there was always a reason. It was not for them to know the sum of their Destinies. Artanis shivered softly, whispering,

'Let us do 'naught but sleep, this night; for I am not content to pursue passion in this place. I feel there is a peculiarity that whispers and lurks about in the darkness, and in our bonding I want no incurse to our oneness.'

With that, she settled to a deeper lie in his enfolding arms and was soon lost in the drift-mists of sleep. She awoke though, in the soft of the night; and though she had elected not to do so, she pulled Eldamar to her and took of a slow and sleepy passion in that great warm bed. Though not for their knowing at this time; in this warm and gentle union was The Golden Child at last, conceived… this Child of The Light who would, in times yet far distant into the future; occasion the smiting down of He, who is called The Dreadful, Dark Entity, Baelar; called too, "The Lord of The Underdark." Here, would be tumbled all that would be called "The Darkness" back into The Abyss; there to remain close-fettered until the Age of The Algethi, and the magick therein, had passed into legend.

On the morrow, having taken of refreshment; Eldamar and Artanis bade farewell to The Mage of Eredun and her companion Alyx, and rode out to northwards, bound away for Amberdrove. As they rode up the vale away from the Manor, Artanis was still beset with unsettled humour... as of the night before. As they rode, Eldamar saw that Artanis made fearful backward glance time and again towards the Manor, as if wary of trailment. Eldamar was wise in such matters; he knew full well, the sharp instincts of Algethi maidens. He had seen this too often in the past. So, he chose not to make issue of this thing; he would hold a watchful humour as they rode. If Artanis sensed something was amiss, then amiss it most certainly was.

What they could not know was this... the young Alyx... Beriana's companion; with whom they had made convivial accord in the night since passed, was not Alyx at all. The true Alyx lay crumpled in the sweet hay of the stables; her bosom torn asunder; her Charas pillaged; and her sightless eyes staring up at the oaken roof beams. The Alyx who had sat in demure hearken to the tell, was, in truth; a Shadow-Wraith in cloak of her image. A Shadow-Wraith which, as they had ridden away from the Manor; had fallen upon Beriana and torn out her Charas.

Thus passed the Mage of Eredun; who now lay with a gaping rent betwixt her breasts, upon the bloodstained flagstones of her hearth; with no hope of ever hearing the soft song of Sathulinan calling her home. Both she, and Alyx were condemned to wander the Dying Lands 'less the Shadow-Wraith that possessed their plundered Charas were to be destroyed.

Why then, had the Shadow-Wraith not taken Artanis in the night? In its twisted and loathsome thinking, it notioned that there was small merit in taking her before the seed of the Golden Child was set within her. It would bide its time, and shadow her until she was settled with child. Then it would destroy her, and the Golden Child at the same time.

The ride to the Forest of Aldreth was accomplished without issue, in the span of three Sundial-shadows, or thereabouts. As they moved into the greening to follow the pathway to Amberdrove, there came a rustle in the underwood. Reining in their mounts, they perceived Laurana's Astalanian Golden Puma... Shonah; regarding them with a great, unblinking, golden gaze. Then, in turning, she loped into the Forest… as would a hunting hound in lead of its master. Thus, they progressed the Forest of Aldreth; the great cat pausing on occasion for Eldamar and Artanis to cast off distance betwixt her and them.

Suddenly, the great cat made pause, turning to stare back from whence they came. They saw its fur rise... all hackled, as it stared beyond them. Turning in their saddles, they stared all about; but, there was nothing. In a slender span of passing, the great cat turned again to progress forwardly. In following; they did not see the shadow flitting betwixt the trees as it made merge and mingle with the dappled shadings of the greening.

The edifice of Amberdrove rose there, before them. The great Gatehouse stood open in welcome. Awaiting there were two of Laurana's Partisan maidens, and they were made full-welcome. The great cat Shonah, turned again into the Forest underwood and was lost from sight. Entering into Amberdrove, Eldamar and Artanis held surprise at the sum of maids now, therein. Amberdrove had grown apace as the Barbarian Naigias were slighted, and the captive maids were freed. The Royal Hunting lodge now held some three cohorts of Partisan maids under the command of Daeralda, Laurana's Mistress-at-Arms. She came forth to greet them, and conveyed them into the Great Hall of Gatherment, there, to elicit the tell of all things that had come to passing since they were last in that place.

Eldamar lay forth the tell of all, in completeness whilst they partook of food and drink. All hearkened to the tell and a great joyousness grew in the Hall. Surely now, peace would manifest itself in Astalan; surely now, the Realm would come fully into The Light.

At length, Artanis was conveyed abovestairs to the great Amber chamber that she had shared with Eldamar when they had made their first visitation. She elected that she would bathe to shed the dust of the ride. As she stood, water-tubbed; cleansing herself of the sweat and dust of the ride, she still held a whisper of the uncertainty that she had felt that day. The warmth of the water should be gentling her, but it was not.

She did not perceive the shadow that crept stealthily through the open casement and made slinking approach towards the anteroom where she bathed; for her back was to the door. A sudden, terrible scream pierced her ponder. Swiftly turning about, she saw a dreadful shadow bursting into a billow of writhing, stinking mist as the sword swung by Daeralda hacked through it.

Daeralda had progressed to the Amber chamber, bearing a flask of Jasmine essence for Artanis's bathing. Entering the chamber, she caught sight of the shadow creeping upon Artanis. Dropping the flask, she swiftly snatched at Artanis's sword lying propped against the casement; and even as she unsheathed the blade, she struck the shadow; cleaving through the wreathing darkness of its dreadful, nebulous shape. Artanis, hearing the terrible shriek… and swiftly turning; saw only the billow of stink-mist burgeoning forth as two soft Golden Orbs arose from the swirling and writhing cloud, which faded away to a nothingness.

The door crashed forth as Eldamar... with his great Sword of The Light, Eithelhwen, naked in his hand; burst into the chamber. Forewarned by her pommel-stone flare, he was hastening abovestairs when he had heard the terrible scream, and now rushed to Artanis. She fell into his arms, crying.

'Oh, Eldamar... will it never end?'

He held her close, as she shivered, whilst the two Golden Orbs drifted across the room to the casement, and floated away into the night... the Charas of Beriana, the Mage of Eredun, and Alyx, her companion; rising together; as in the Forest treetops, the soft song of Sathulinan whispered gently, calling them home.

Though he would show it not, Eldamar was much troubled by this happening. It could mean, but one thing. Baelar was resolved that this Child of The Light of which Beriana had spoken, would not be permitted to be settled in conceiving, let alone birthed. In this, Artanis now stood beset by the most dreadful peril. For, if one Shadow-Wraith had been sent to take her, t'was certain-sure that others would follow. Needs-must, now the sternest measures be emplaced to preserve her on the ride to the north; and not only for the ride… for the remainder of this night in this place.

The Partisan maids progressed the Forest by the pale light of eventide, a'gathering of Rowan boughs which were emplaced about the doors and casements of the Amber chamber. In this, the chamber would be secure; no creature of The Darkness could abide Rowan, and would not pass therethrough. This done, then Eldamar and Artanis closeted themselves for sleeping. Daeralda commanded the passages without the Amber chamber be closely watched, and patrols made without, below the chamber casements. Each Partisan maid sentinel was to be gifted a circlet of Rowan blossoms about her temples as protection. In this, there would be no further covert incurse of Shadow-Wraiths as might be prowling abroad, this night.

Laying a'bed in the Amber chamber, Artanis trembled in the embrace of Eldamar. He gentled her, saying all would be well; though, in truth, he knew that their return to the borders would be beset with peril. As he murmured gentle and comforting words to her, suddenly, she pulled him into a tight embrace in manner the same as she had done, that first day in Astalan when they had stumbled upon the first signs of the Mordbrood savagery. She said not a word, but pulled him to her, and took of her pleasure in wild abandon and frantic need; again, as if it might be the last pleasuring she would ever know. T'was as if she were trying to lose herself; to drown herself in sensualness… to wipe away with wanton pleasuring what had manifested this night. When she had sated her desires, she softly laid her head upon his chest and cried herself to sleep… as she had so done, that other time before.

The night crept without further issue. At wakening, Artanis had embraced a more serene humour. As they repaired belowstairs to break bread, they encountered Daeralda laying instruction to a parcel of five of her Partisan maids. They were to ride to the Manor of the Mage of Eredun; there to elicit whether the manifestation of the two Charas were indeed, those of Beriana and Alyx. It held that this were the most fitting construal of their showing when the Shadow-Wraith was despatched. It was, as like, that this was the truth of this thing, for there were no others thereabouts that they might be.

The Partisan Maids were carefully instructed that, should therein the Manor be found the bodies of the two aforesaid; then they were to be cairned with specific prudence. The perished females' Charas would not fully rise to Carmanthyr until specific cantations were spoken and certain particular herbs and blossoms were spread into the cairn. Were this not to be done in the prescribed manner, then the jeopardy was that the perished females would become "Shadows" of the Algethi dead. If this befell Beriana and Alyx; they would wander the Dying Realms until the world ended, and never find their way home to "Carmanthyr "… The Tranquil Island.

The Partisan maids gathered the herbs and blossoms specific, for the cairning and rode out. Eldamar and Artanis gathered such water and provisions as were needed, and made to ride into the north. Daeralda held them at the gatehouse. She gave to Artanis a circlet of the creamy-white Rowan blossoms to place upon her brow as she rode. Care was now the watchword. She spoke,

'My Lord Eldamar… Mistress Artanis; the way ahead is desolate, and little aid there to gift you should some agent of The Darkness beset you about as you ride. The Lessien Meneldur will escort you to the very borders of Astalan. In their charge, you shall prevail safe to your Mother Realms. There is no dispute in this matter; this is how it shall stand.'

Her gaze countenanced no gainsay in this thing.

So it was, Eldamar and Artanis, in company with a squadron of Lessien Meneldur… the Elite Assault Warriors of Amberdrove… the dreaded Daughters of Mayhem; rode out to the north that bright, early summer morning. No Darkling having grasp of the slightest glimmer of wit would now hold in vision any notion to mar their progress.

Some eight leagues beyond the boundings of the Forest of Aldreth they came upon the first burnt settlement. Where, in their first passing there had been sprawled and ruined bodies, there were now but scattered bones. The carrion birds had not been indolent. Here and there, they would espy crows, all sleek and glossy coated; or mayhap a plump magpie of two, that clattered away from their passing. The fates had indeed smiled upon these creatures, for here, they lived in a land of plenty. It was the same in the next settlement, which they broached within the span of a Sundial shadow.

This was the settlement where was found the forge, where Yara… the maid whose father was blacksmith, and who was later to embrace the smithydom of Amberdrove; had re-forged the Kelek-Berskers and fortified the crossbows taken from the Galdor Huskaars. There was no purpose to tarry in this place and so they rode on.

Within the measure of little above two leagues; there, before them, all scatteringly bone-strewn, and picked clean by the carrion birds, lay the remains of the two Galdor Huskaars despatched by the freed captive maids of the Naigias slighted at the first. Still to be seen were the scratchings in the foreheads of their bleaching skulls where Laurana had carved into the flesh of the first; the Letter "C," betokening Cirnelle; and into the flesh of the second, the Letter "S," betokening Seremela... the two sisters brought to their deaths by the regimented defilement of the Huskaars in that Naigias close by. Here, still to be seen in plain sight, was the first manifestation the cypher of "Vagehal Hetenloske Mahok"… "The Partisan, Yellow-Haired Slut."

T'would now be, but, a slender measure of ride until they beheld the Naigias. This; the evil place where Artanis had, at the first, revealed to Eldamar the dreadful Wiccen Rede Death blow... this stroke crafted specific, to lay the most shrieking and lingering agony upon its victim. As they accomplished the rise that lay above the Naigias, they perceived below, not the sturdy farmstead, all stone-built with barns standing thereabouts. All that stood in remain were fire-blackened wall stumps and tumbled stones. Eleniel; the Commander of the Lessien Meneldur squadron, spoke.

'I see by your manner of gaze that this is not as you hold this place in your remembrance. Here then, is a black tale to be told. In trailment of the most singularly gratifying catechism you laid upon the vermin in this place, it was re-settled as common Naigias, with all the rape and despoilment of maids, as of before. Then came the Tur'anion. This place was sequestered from the Galdor barbarians for the sole use of the Tur'anion. It prevailed a while longer as common Naigias until the barbarian Commanders, vexed by certain captive maids refuting the more loathsome defilements; quartered it as a Tur'anion Tutoring stead. Here, the Tur'anion 'prentice torturers were loosed upon such maids who called refute, so that the vermin might master their gruesome art. Word of this abomination came swiftly to the knowing of Amberdrove. Laurana herself rode out the Lessien Meneldur… The Daughters of Mayhem; to prosecute assault with the gravest imposition upon these animals. I rode with them.

Upon breaching the defence of the steading, such a sight as to make blood run cold was laid before us. All the diverse engines of torture were there laid about; every chamber was running with blood; even to splatter upon the roofing beams. Great handfuls of hair, with scalp-flesh thereon, were cast about; riven shreds and tatters of flesh, and torn out fingernails bestrewed the floors. And more; when they were done; these vermin simply pitched the maids' ruined bodies out of the upper casements. Within the nether courtyard were close on four-score; tossed aside as if they were 'naught, but midden spoil.

Such vermin as were taken alive… no matter how spoiled, were dragged one by the one, to the grain barn yonder. Therein, prevailed a sturdy gristing mill where the grain husks were shriven from the grains. There, they were stripped of their breeches and pinioned upon the gristing table-stone. Laurana herself, laid upon them their just chastisement. She crushed and spattered their privities with vicious strikings of a war hammer of some six cloves in weight. Each victim embraced a gruesome tutorment. Laurana did not crush the whole with the one strike. More; she laid forth the imposition of strike upon some singular portion of her victim's privities so that he might relish the lingering, shrieking agony. Indeed, some vermin who were judged more bloody-handed or perverted, were gifted four, mayhap five sturdy strikings 'ere their ruination was complete in summation.

When the penance of each was settled in sum; then they were dragged, screeching and squealing, back into the Naigias and there nailed through their wrists and ankles to the walls of the one-time rutting chambers wherein they had tortured their victims. When all had embraced their meed, then the whole of the steading was fired about them.'

She gifted Eldamar and Artanis a cold, and evil smile...

'Some embraced close on four Sundial shadow-spans of shriek before they perished.'

Here then; stood sound reason that the Daughters of Mayhem were so dread feared. Here then; stood sound reason why no sight 'nor smell of straggler Darkling had been seen on their ride.

Eleniel told, that such maids as might be found about that place were decently, and reverently laid in a great common cairn hard by the broad way, 'ere The Daughters of Mayhem had ridden back to Amberdrove. Now, they stood with Eldamar and Artanis in solemn felicitation before the great cairn. This done, they turned again to northwards, and rode on, away from that dreadful ruin. There would now stand a ride progressing some four Sundial-shadows span to the small, yet sturdy spinney of Wychwithy trees wherein Eldamar and Artanis had cloaked themselves from the prowling Kaarok watcher in the sky.

They rode for the passing of three Sundial-shadows through the blighted and ruined Astalan uplands; with the smoky-blue hills creeping furtively across the eastern skyline, as if lurkingly shadowing their progress. Onwards they rode across this land which held small sum of particularity, save ruined fields and burnt-out farmsteadings; each one bearing aspect much as any other.

But there! Upon the distant hill... there came to view the spinney of Wychwithy trees. There they might over-rest the night; for the Sun was, even now, embracing her slow lowering in the western skies. Suddenly... Starshadow made a sturdy and dust-swirled halting. His ears were fully pricked, and he became watchful of eye. They all gazed hard into the distance; There! Dark smudgings about the treetops of the Wychwithy spinney.

What might they be? Was this the envisioned lurk of Shadow-Wraiths?... or was this more more than a flock of crows? Commander Eleniel stood not one span of heartbeat in ponder or suppose. Laying heel to her steed, she swung out of the Company, closely followed by one half of the squadron; and they made stern, and reckless gallop towards the spinney, sabres drawn and flashing in the lowering sun.

As the thunder of the Lessien Meneldur ride echoed the hills, Eldamar glanced at the pommel stone of Eithelhwen; she gave no glow of warning, and as he raised eyes to the progression of the charge; there came a great wrothful cackle and cawing as group of vexed crows arose in cavilling cloud from out of the spinney. Having compassed the spinney all about, and finding 'naught; encampment was laid for the night. Eleniel posted pickets on turnabout watch of two moonshadow spans, and they settled for the night.

On the morrow, which dawned bright and fair; they broke encampment and moved on to northwards. Within three Sundial-shadows they rode down to the little coomb, wherein lay the burned barn all strung about with the withered carcasses and bleached bones of the tortured males of this tiny settlement. Further in, there lay the bones of the youngling maids all heaped and scattered. About the slender treetops there dangled the withered, unjointed limbs of those who had met their gruesome end, torn asunder betwixt these same trees.

This was akin to riding through some charnel house, as their mounts hooves scraped and clattered over the mass of bones farther down the little coomb where the homesteaders had been slaughtered and pillaged of their long bones. And, at the last; there stood the burned-out settlement itself, where nothing moved; save the few crows that cawed their displeasure at their passing... or so t'would appear to the unwary gaze. For these crows cast no shadows.

Eldamar; by chance, perceived the pommel stone of Eithelhwen suddenly flare brilliantly. Turning, he saw the crows rise, one by the one, from off their perchings, as… like a covey of minacious bats, they wreathingly assumed their dreadful, shadowy black forms, and rushed towards the riders. He cried…

'Shadow-Wraiths!'

He drew Eithelhwen from her sleeping; wheeling Starshadow about. The Daughters of Mayhem whirled about so swiftly as not to be believed; their sabres naked as the Shadow-Wraiths came sweepingly on, resolved to take Artanis where she stood. The squadron swiftly gathered all about Eldamar and Artanis; sword blades whistled in the morning air as Eldamar and the maids hacked at the nebulous horrors; driving them up and away from Artanis. Then, of a sudden… the dreadful wraiths were surrounded by a cast of hawks that fell upon them... as if, out of nothingness.

Close, swifter than the eye might follow; there was fleeting insinuation of a figure here… a figure there, above their heads; then, as swiftly again, there was naught but a hawk. Terrible shrieks rang, all echoing the smoky-blue hills as five Shadow-Wraiths were sundered in swift accord; each bursting into a stinking billow of writhy misting that faded as swift as it had manifested. Hastily grasping advantage, the ride galloped away from the settlement whilst the Shadow-Wraiths were thus engaged.

The hawks flew a span of distance away in advance of the progress of the galloping riders and stood down to ground. As the ride approached; the hawks made shape-shift, and there stood eight Shadaiian Wraith-Hunters out of the far distant Forest of Raventhorn Scar. Circled about by his brother Shadaiians, stood their leader, Archernan; who raised hand in salutation to Eldamar, and spoke,

'I bid you greetings from the far Western Realms, my Lord Guardian. T'would seem we stood 'nigh peerless in our intercept.'

Eldamar; now, in full rein of the goad of his aggressive sentiment of defence, spoke in full surprising…

'Master Archernan; how came you here? This is indeed, a most singularly curious transpire. How knew you of our stand in this blighted land? More, how knew you of this lurking adversity that lay in wait for us in this place?'

Archernan made gift, as near a smile as a Shadaiian might bring. For, as has been previous told; Shadaiian Wraith-Hunters were beset with a solemn demeanour. He spoke again,

'T'is a tangly web that has been woven about this thing. The Wiccen Rede Revered Mother, Ainariel Fefalas lay word of your quest and the perils to be faced, to the Sorceress Shahran of Penvallanar. She is now beset in tranquil bond with Thallian Beckstrider in her Halls. Beckstrider carried the tell all down through Shandalar to The Citadel of your granddaughter, Cirion; Ice Queen of Shandalar. The Grand Duchess Gwythlyn accomplished the Yeranoor Shadowlands in something less than one-half of a full Sundial turning, and brought word to me in the Forest of Raventhorn Scar.

I elected to lay a watch over you as you came out of Astalan; for t'was deemed that The Darkness would strive to meddle your endeavour of raising the Dread Imposition laid upon our Loki allies.

I made choose to shape-shift with my brothers into Shandalar Merlins; for they be the swiftest of all hawks in Amriath. We compassed Malphaers in four moons, sleeping on the wing. As we breached Astalan, we shape-shifted once again into common hawks, for Merlins are not seen in this place. We encountered, and have trailed you since you decamped the Wychwithy spinney. We perceived that what you assumed were 'naught but crows back yonder, threw no shadows. So we sailed up on high 'ere they uncloaked. Then, as one, we made stoop. They stood no chance, in manner the same that some misfortune sparrow would stand no chance against a true hawk.'

The Daughters of Mayhem sat on their mounts, all slack-jawed at this manifestation. They had seen many things, but 'naught came even close to these shape-shifters. Artanis held a demeanour, all wide-eyed; only Eldamar stood at ease. This, he had seen before. He smiled.

'Master Archernan; we are indeed, beholden to you and your brothers. Is there 'aught we might do to repay in kind, your felicitous endeavour?'

Now, Archernan smiled thinly…

'Aye, we might take of a little of your victuals to see us back to the Forest of Raventhorn Scar. T'will be of small imposition to your store; for Merlins are not gluttonous in sum of devour.'

Eldamar laughed,

'Take what you would, for had you not presented yourselves, it is as like that we would have held need for none of it; being singularly lacking in sum of Charas!'

Having taken of victuals and water, Archernan gifted a graceful inclination of his head to Artanis and the Daughters of Mayhem; bid them farewell… snapped fingers to his comrades, who as one, shape-shifted into Merlins; and all lifted and flew out to the north. After this, the company gathered their wits about themselves and laid out flanking scouts as they rode the day. There was nothing here in these northerly pastures of Astalan... nothing but burnt-out farms and settlements; ruined fields that now grew scrubby and weeded where there should have been ripening crops.

As Eventide crept upon them they found the homestead they had come down upon when first they breached the border of Astalan. The shrivelled bodies without, were now picked clean; but the charred and cindered homesteader still clung to the burnt door of his abode as if in stubborn tenure; nailed as he was, to what remained of his fiefdom. Beyond, in the old tumbledown bothy, stout planked above and about, and cloaked from prying eyes; was the remainder of the sturdy victuals cache out of Rhom. To the west lay The Plain of Malphaers.

Commander Eleniel and The Daughters of Mayhem were made offer to remain in over-rest of the night, but she gainsaid; saying if they might, they would 'plenish their rations, and then ride the night back to Amberdrove. This was done; then mounting up, Eleniel bid them fair speed, and the squadron turned, and rode away into the south by the light of the young Harvest Moon.

Entering into the tumbledown, Eldamar and Artanis made settle for the night. She was still beset by nervousness which prowled about her thoughts in lieu of what had come to passing that day. In the dark warmth of their shared blanket, Eldamar made sturdy effort to gentle her fearings. Suddenly, she clung to him; for from without, came sound of something prowling around outside the tumbledown. With her eyes wide with fear, she whispered,

'They are returned. They mean to take us even yet.'

Eldamar made sturdy effort to assuage her fearful humour.

'T'is naught but wind whimpering the tree tops and laying clatter to twigs...'

Then came again, the rustle. Swiftly, Eldamar rose to the doorway… Eithelhwen to his hand. Her pommel stone gave no flaring; but caution was still a sound watchword. Forsaking the refuge of the tumbledown, he stepped cautiously into the night and beheld a Shadaiian Wraith-Hunter standing there, before him. Who gifted him a gracious bow, saying…

'Archernan bid me tarry here in watching over you this night, my Lord. I am called by name… Jhastor. I am the Shadow-watcher of Raventhorn, and you shall be secure in my charge.'

Eldamar spoke,

'I thank you Master Jhastor; we may now slumber content, for the Shadow-watcher of Raventhorn will be a most singularly efficacious guardian to our repose.'

Jhastor gifted him a thin smile.

'Then I shall prosecute this tasking, forthwith. I bid you, and The Lady, fair repose.'

And before Eldamar's eyes, he shape-shifted to the form of a great Eagle Owl; and, silent as a phantom upon whispering wings, swept up into the shadowy canopy of the trees that stood hard by the tumbledown.

Eldamar stepped back into the tumbledown and laid tell of their guardian of the night who stood watch without. Such tell, at length, seemingly eased Artanis's troubled humour, and she settled into his arms as her gentled her with soothing whispers. She lay awhile in his arms, and then pulled him to her, seeking to wash away remembrance of that dreadful day in consummation of passion.

On the morrow, The Shadaiian was not for the finding. No matter, t'was as like he had decamped homewards as the day was dawning. The late summer morning stood fair for their ride. Gathering such victuals as they might carry, they bade farewell to the tumbledown and rode north; thence turned into the west. Artanis was of a more tranquil humour this day, yet t'were still wise not to embrace incaution. She told that there would be span of some two Sundial-shadows ride to Cathonta beck, and there they would be safe.

As they rode, still watchful; the Hills of Tillethmhor began to thrust up out of the boundings of The Plain of Malphaers. All out across its broad reach, there was no movement… 'naught but the eternal whimper of wind and swirlings of dust. There was slender exchange of word as they rode the morning; for still stood the peril, albeit diminishing, of Shadow-Wraiths.