Chapter Eleven.

"The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting."

A score and ten leagues to the east; Lokari was making a fair progress from out of Bradda. Tahkaiia, The Silver One, had the returned from her escort to Rhom within two moons, as foretold. Lokari had; as Eldamar had surmised, been laid siege to by the Cabal maids of Bradda. T'was as well that Elanor… now Cabal Mistress; had heeded the counsel of Eldamar in this matter. Such maids, and there were many; who chose to prosecute their passions with Lokari, were advised that they should progress their desires forthwith. T'was indeed provident that Lokari was of a young, and sturdy fettle; for there were some three-quarter-score of the nubile maidens who came in seek of dalliance. Elanor had laid resolute command that Lokari should be taken leave of by sunrise of the second morning.

She held Eldamar's forewarning with grave disquiet. The Silver Loki would be inbound from the west at first light; there to stand sentinel to Lokari's ride. There must be no hint, 'nor tell of tale that might gift this Tahkaiia cause to embrace notion that she perceived him beset with sate from carnal dalliance with the maidens in that place. There must be no witless reveal, nor overly-assotted wench beset with the selfishness of her pleasuring that would cause the Silver One to fancy that some wantonness had ensued in this place. Elanor held remembrance of the words of Eldamar's warning;

"She holds shine for Lokari, and is beset with a jealous demeanour; even as much as some Algethi maiden spurned. This is no jest, for if she should gather notion that she perceives him standing in sate of carnal dalliance, or worse… discovers him yet, aboard one of your sisters; it is, as like, that she will lay the settlement to waste, in jealous spite."

So; the beguiling lure of the company of Lokari would needs-must be shunned from the first light of dawn so he might compose himself with settled humour, 'ere the mistrustful Loki flew in from the west. The constancy of the Cabal of Bradda was now secure, and none would… by thoughtless concupiscence in word nor deed, be permitted to lay these secure prospects in peril. The Cabal maids who made progress their desires were commanded that all gentle, whispered endearments and immodest, and knowing glances were to be done with in good time. 'Nor were they to bid soft, and wistful farewells within the common ground of the settlement as Lokari took of his leave.

Little more than a pair of sundial shadow-spans beyond the dawn of the second morn, there was seen the Silver Loki, Tahkaiia sweeping in low and fast from out of the west. She overflew the settlement so low that the wind from off her great wings swirled and eddied the dust of the common ground. Then, she was climbing away into the softly-gathering blueness of the morning sky; watching the settlement with singular mistrust as she circled about in the return. They saw her softly change the stand of her wings as she made glide down to the settlement where she accomplished an elegant settle upon the common ground. The Silver Loki gazed about herself; her Amber-red eyes hard and untrusting. Elanor walked out to her. She would garner no mistrust of dalliance with Lokari; her swelling belly told true, that she would not be one to have sought out frivolous congress.

Tahkaiia held her in her Amber-red gaze for a slender span, then cast gaze beyond. There! Lokari coming from out of a distant roundhouse. Tahkaiia's humour uplifted within the span of a heartbeat. The cold cast faded from her gaze, and t'was almost as if she smiled… if such as that, might be embraced by a Loki. Yonder, a Cabal maiden was leading out Starshadow, speaking gently to him. Lokari came to Tahkaiia and made greetings; for the spell from out of The Tarsius of Yeranoor, invoked at the Council at Storien-Rhudd which had gifted them all with the knowing of Charybon Runic tongue, still prevailed.

'Fair morrow. Mistress Tahkaiia; I am delighted to see you this fine morning, and am beholden to you for electing to stand sentinel to my ride to the west.'

Tahkaiia spoke. She yet held the soft hiss... plain, and full clear; much in the manner of a maid with a pretty lisp… but her tone was measured, and perhaps, a little too gentle…

'They have tended you well, My Lord?'

Lokari made reply; his countenance placid, and his words bright and guileless;

'Aye, Mistress; I have been most cordially attended by Mistress Elanor and her Cabal maidens. They have tended me as if I were at my own hearth.'

And in this; Tahkaiia knew; she knew as plain as if t'were writ clear upon parchment there before her. Of course there had been dalliances; t'would be curiously unnatural if there had not so been. Lokari would be irresistible to these lusty wenches who were in full lack of males.

Lokari had overpassed one thing in his demure, and wide-eyed posture. He was in receipt of scant grasp of the wiles of the female, and had not embraced fully, the verity that; be they Algethi, Thuvian, or Loki; each and every female has bestowed upon her that most singular of gifts… Intuition; the nemesis of all errant males.

Tahkaiia gazed at him; soft of eye, but petulant of thought. She mused to herself…

'Were I you, My Lord; I would put aside this bandy of ambage whilst you are still in grasp of advantage; for t'is certain-sure, that should you progress this puffery, then you shall be gifted a gentle singeing for your endeavours.'

But then, as she gazed at him; she perceived his ill-cloaked, and rueful affright of her espial of the truth of it. He stood there before her, like some youngling laid bare in his trespass; and she could no more, bind him about with her imposition of unworded chide. She spoke again;

'Then, all is well; go mount Starshadow and we shall away; for we needs-must take up our journey 'an we would broach Lorenfalu by eventide.'

As Lokari crossed the common ground to where Starshadow stood a'waiting; she cast stare about the throng of Cabal maidens; seeing not a few eyes that were suddenly, downcast from her gaze. Well; that would be an end to it. She would not stand requital for the immodesty that she knew had prevailed in this place. 'Nay; she would set this misdeed aside for the day that The Lord Eldamar smote down the Dread Imposition of the Lokis at Storien-Rhudd. Only then; when she had taken again the form in which she had been dreamed at the first; would she chastise Lokari. He would soon grasp sturdy conversance of the ways and the wiles of females; and what she held in propose, she wagered; he would not, at length, hold in disrelish.

Lokari rode forth, gifting thanks and farewells to Elanor, and the Cabal maidens gathered thereabout. Tahkaiia embraced them all with one last, knowing gaze, and then lifted into the skies. She rode a gliding circlement of Bradda and turned into the west, whilst Elanor and her Cabal maidens gave the most heartsome, great sighs 'neath their breath. For now, the relief stood about them in measure. The Silver Loki had known full-well of the prosecution their passions with Lokari and yet, she had chosen not to take issue. This had indeed, been a close run thing… 'aye, too close by the half.

But now it was done, and the Cabal of Bradda and the Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel was secure. The next generation of Cabal maidens lay safe in their mothers' bellies. Arfeiniel would ever be beholden to Eldamar; Lord Guardian of The Light, and too, to The Dragon Lord Lokari of Elisriendell.

Lokari rode down through the soft valleys of Arfeiniel with the Hills of Tillethmhor keeping pace to his left-most hand. As they rode across the ancient Bridge of Herlin; Starshadow broke stride and gazed towards northerly-east... and the shadowy Pass of Hestrus. His ears were pricked, and he snorted. Lokari gazed thereto, and shivered. That was not a place to venture into… not at all. He laid heel to Starshadow and rode on at swifter pace, though he knew not why.

Tahkaiia drifted high above, turning this way and that, as she combed the way ahead with her sharp, Loki gaze. As she turned, the sun glittered upon her. She soared upon the winds, as plain as a warning beacon in the skies. But, as yet; there were none to see such warning.

Within the passing of six Sundial-shadows, Lokari came down upon a copse of ancient Wychwithy trees, wherein there crouched a small bothy. He thought to ask for water, but the bothy seemed deserted. Lokari reined in Starshadow and walked to the low doorway. Entering in, he perceived in the gloom a body sprawled upon the spread of brown and crumbling bracken. It was an old woman. She wore the tatters of a lilac gown. She sprawled upon her back with her bodice torn asunder, laying to view a great, sundered rent betwixt her breasts. Her face and throat were lined and weathered brown, but the skin about that dreadful hole was milky pale... soft and smooth. Her eyes were open. Beneath the glaze of death, he saw they had been a beautiful, clear pale grey.

He shivered. He knew of this thing; it was spoke of, 'oft times enough, in Calverstock from the tell of Thallian Beckstrider who had met with this horror in the ride down Windlemoss Vale. This was the dreadful Charas-wrench. This old woman had never gazed upon Sathulinan. She had been taken by a Shadow-Wraith or Baelar'enin; and in not some slender span of time since passed. The peat fire was long dead, and the stain of corruption was dark upon her cheek-bones. Lokari had not the time to cairn her decently; so for want of better, he laid her out upon the great oaken bed in the one bedchamber of the bothy, and covered her with the sleeping mantle. There was no more could be done for her. He mounted Starshadow and rode swiftly from that place, not knowing that this was once the Revered Mother of The Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel… Ainariel Fefalas.

A quarter-league forward, Tahkaiia was circling. Lokari, now beset with angst in the matter of his finding the old woman; rode hard to where she drifted round and about. Galloping over a rise, he beheld a soft, green valley, wherein lay a cool, crystal pool beset by shading willows. Here then, was water. He reined in and made dismount. Starshadow dipped his head to the pool and drank. So then, did Lokari. Tahkaiia had no call for refreshment and so, pursued her circling all round and about... ever watchful.

The pool was cool and shady; the water was sweet. But… though Tahkaiia drifted above, serene and untroubled; Lokari held the discomfiting feeling that they were watched. He felt the hairs on his nape of neck prickle, and the icy fingers of foreboding touched him softly betwixt his shoulders. Whatever it was that watched... was malevolent; he felt it. Starshadow too, was becoming restive and fidgety. His ears pricked as he paced to and fro, pawing the ground with his front hooves on occasion. Lokari cast gaze about; there was nothing there to see.

The day was bright; the soft, green grass of the little valley shimmered in the breeze, and the stand of willows rustled gently; but this did not betoken that all was as it would seem. Lokari knew that something was there. It was best to begone from this place. The borders of Arfeiniel would be close. He mounted, and rode out from the soft green valley, not daring to throw a hindward glance 'lest he see his fear manifest to his sight. As he so did; was it just a frightensome fancy… or was there something that swiftly flitted amidst the deep shadows of the willows?

A half Sundial-shadow hence, as he rode the outspread green of the border meadows of Arfeiniel, he was still beset with the awful awareness of stealthy pursuit. Many times, he had glanced hindwards, but there was 'naught to be seen. Then, as he watched; Tahkaiia made a sudden lift into the skies. She circled around and called down from on high…

'My Lord; t'is the Girdle of Arfeiniel that we now pass through. That which has shadowed us from the pool glade is now ensnared, and may not follow.'

So, she had been heedful of this thing. Why then, mused Lokari, had she not agressed whatever it might be? As he pondered this, Tahkaiia lowered her stand in the sky and, in circle about him called to him once more;

'That, which tracked us, was, but a dark, and wispy shadow. It held not shape, nor form. It embraced 'naught to which I might lay flume. I have watched it all the while, but it chose not to draw 'nigh; and now it is snared by the binding power about this place.'

Lokari breathed a sigh of relief. He now knew what this had been. This had been a Shadow-Wraith. Now, it was trapped. He might now ride on and not have need to glance backwards, every twenty or so, cubits progressed. Soon, they would come down onto Windlemoss, and then, t'was but twenty leagues down to Ling. Tahkaiia had risen up into the skies again, and circled back, whilst Lokari rode on. He had ridden perhaps, three-quarters of a league with the cliffs of the throat of Windlemoss rising to his view, when suddenly Tahkaiia swept down over his head. Swift turning, she cried;

'Ride, My Lord; ride for your life! The creature has breached the Girdle and looms upon us as we speak!'

She soared up, turning back swiftly into the east. Lokari laid heel to Starshadow and cried;

'Rimve Tel'sul'… 'Now, run like the wind.'

And Starshadow leapt forwards to Lokari's command. Wild and reckless was their ride down into the Vale of Windlemoss; foolhardy was their careening broach of the tumbled stones of the old Algethi fort, yet Starshadow galloped firm of footing and sturdy in heart.

With his ears filled with the echoing roar of Tahkaiia laying her flume behind them, Lokari turned out onto the Plain of Malphaers. To his left-most hand, lay the Great Rift Chasm, still stinking and shadowy; still a stinking morass of heaving slime. Now, Starshadow gathered pace; now he ran as only a Unicorn may run. Lokari did not look back; he crouched over Starshadow's neck as they hurtled down the broad causeway betwixt the Rift Chasm to his left-most hand and the lower reaches of the Shandalar Ice Mountains guarding the flank to his right.

Then, came Tahkaiia; laying flume of billowing red and yellow flame into the yawn of the chasm. She had harassed the Shadow-Wraith down Windlemoss and into the chasm where it was cloaked by shadowy depths. Each time she laid flume upon it, it wreathed into nothingness; but, when she overflew, it gathered form once more. She was tiring; her stand of flume was fading but she dare not disengage. For if she did, her Lokari would be doomed.

There was, but one thing that stood her to prevail... the glittering malice that stood firm upon, and beyond such grave malice for all Darkling kind as dragons held from time full lost in antiquity... malice unwavering; malice, fully blind to any and all things beyond the destruction of Darklings, no matter their caste or their breed. Thus, she persisted in her harass and harry of this spawn of The Abyss all along the Great Rift of Malphaers as Lokari and Starshadow flew like the wild wind into the west.

In Rhom, much had come to passing. Eldamar had ordered despatch to be flown to Calverstock petitioning Callam to fly out a gryphon to the Old Mill of Torbair of Aiuthal, in Elisriendell to entreat Torbair to return to Rhom. There was much need to rekindle the alliance of his brother Knight of the Eternal Watchtower.

As Lokari was riding the ancient Bridge of Herlin, in distant Arfeiniel, Torbair came to Rhom. He laid his rue upon Eldamar for the losing of Arlanna, and would have progressed his sum of desolation at his failure; but Eldamar caused him to desist, saying that it was now time to turn the page. Eldamar told all of what had come to passing, and of his resolve to embrace now, that which he had always been: Craftmaster of The Old High Magick. The Fellowship of The Knights of the Eternal Watchtower, which had slept these many summers, now stood needful of wakening.

He told of Artanis and of The Golden Child that she carried. There was pressing need to embrace The Old Magick in completeness. Only in this, could the safety of The Golden Child be assured. Torbair hearkened the tell, and nodded. He spoke; his tone was sombre and pensive;

'Aye old friend, I see no other way. But, how did a Witching bracelet of the "Haldrig en'Seregnir" come to prevail? They were all thought destroyed after the fourth engagement of The Eternal Watchtower. How might one have been overlooked?'

Eldamar replied;

'That; I do not know. My fear is if one should prevail, then there might be more of them; and we know full well of the dreadful, malevolent power that they possess. That is why I summoned you. We need to winnow The Tarsius of Yeranoor in hope that Ghlinngar the Seer laid therein the key whereby we might bind an armour of Enchantment about Amriath.'

Torbair questioned as to where this Witching Bracelet now lay. Eldamar told that it was swaddled within the pannier of Starshadow, who even now, was progressing out of the east with Lokari. There was no time to squander; a fetterment of the most sturdy spellbinding need be raised to cripple this monstrosity. For there was no knowing what it might wile to its muster.

As they repaired to the Rhom Archive Chamber wherein were safe kept the three volumes of The Tarsius of Yeranoor, Torbair spoke of the raising of the slighted Halls of Eldamar. This place was now raised to Stronghold standing. The Lord Laumil, Council Master of Elisriendell had overseen all, and had excelled in his self-chosen covenant. All would be complete within the span of a passing moon. Eldamar replied that he was yet of two minds; but envisioned that he would carry Artanis and his son, and the wet-nurse to this place when all was prepared here. He thought that he would name the newly raised Halls… Arlanronde; "Ronde" being "Hall" in the tongue of FionnMhor; "Arlan" being the affectionate slendering of "Arlanna."

In the Archive chamber, they pored and pondered the Great Tarsius of Yeranoor in seek of some clue to their designs. They burned down three fat, honey-wax candles before they came upon it. It was an ancient, High Magick spell-casting from the Age of The Beginnings. This was "The Cold Fire-Shield"… the "Naur Tinchor Ostring." This would confound any ingress within the compass of the Shield of those not of The Light. All they would see at the moment of their demise would be a pale and dancing curtain of blue light. As they touched the same, they would be hurled back into the second entrapment. This would be the alter-kin of the first. This would be "The Burning Fire-Shield"… the "Naur Tinchor Osturra," which would not manifest as they crossed this shield at the first. Albeit, when they were hurled back from The Cold Fire-Shield into The Burning Fire-Shield… then, they would be consumed in its fiery embrace.

This enchantment could be woven to embrace the Realms of The Light in full sum. All that need to be done would be to spellbind certain points specific, all about the borders. These might be anything; a mark stone, or a dolmen; again, perhaps a watchtower or a beacon flat…any place that might not be moved. The spellbind in full sum was scribed in the third volume of The Great Tarsius of Yeranoor. It was called by name, the "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting." Here, there would be a Girdle of Enchantment such as that which compassed Arfeiniel. This girdle though; would be of The Old, High Magick, and it was not the same.

It was not the same, by reason that the Enchanted Girdle of Arfeiniel was woven as a wholeness. It had been thrown all about the borders in one great spellbinding of the Wiccen Rede. The Old, High Magick spell-casting that Eldamar and Torbair were now intending to invoke was not a wholeness. It could be raised from one place to another; as would perhaps, be some sturdy Redoubt; to stand alone. Then, then next part could be raised. Thus, it could be marched across the border in like manner as one would progress across a stream or beck; from stepping stone to stepping stone. It was chosen that the Eastern border of Lorenfalu would be the first parcel to be so raised.

In receipt of the sum of the spellbinding; Eldamar had ridden to the north, and Torbair had made progress to the Knoll of Rhyddu. From here; at the great cairn, he would throw the Girdle of Enchantment all along the Heights of Rhyddu, from watchtower to watchtower. Eldamar; with four moons grace, 'ere Lokari rode in from the east; would begin to raise the northerly buttress of the Girdle in the throat of the High Pass of Ling.

Eldamar rode up the Pass, beyond the Great Redoubt of the Low Riggs of Striding Edge, to where the new High Watchtower loomed. It stood before him, astride the crest of the rise of the throat of Ling.

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The new watchtower was thrown up to a standing of three-score cubits. Its walls were four cubits in thickness. It embraced at its feet, two great oaken, iron-clad gates, studded with iron spikes upon the side that faced the Plain of Malphaers. To the left-most side was raised in completeness, the wall betwixt tower and cliff-face. This wall embraced a thickness of two cubits and rose to one, and one-half score of cubits. It was sturdily bratticed and buttressed on the western side. On the eastern side, it was sheer. The wall to the right-most side was being raised as Eldamar passed through of the great gate.

The Stone-masters glanced at him as he progressed. One called down and bid him fair morrow. Eldamar raised his hand in salutation and rode out into the throat of Ling. Some two score cubits beyond the watchtower; a little to the west of the rusting iron rings driven into the rock face where the Horanaurk torturers had chained and despoiled the abducted Faluan maids; was emplaced the ancient, and weathered Mark Stone of Shandalar. Across the narrows of the Ling defile lay the likewise ancient and weathered Mark Stone of Lorenfalu. Here would be raised the first link of the Girdle.

Eldamar stood in the Throat of Ling; a little behind the pair of Mark Stones. Making dismount, he looked into the east. Then, he outstretched his hands… one towards the Shandalar Mark Stone; the other towards the Mark Stone of Lorenfalu. He drew in a sturdy breath, and intoned the Spellbind in the Ancient tongue;

"Pela sina theur quelamin,

Vaquet-ilu ulca Vaarn;

Hecil aul n'alaquel maskan,

Ilya los y sangwa ven.

I'luve en' Tel'me'a."

This Enchantment, of The Highest Magick, so rarely used; was spoken in the pure tongue of The Moon-Elves. This tongue was "Orosta'Sathul." It was the same tongue that Torbair of Aiuthal had spoken as he invoked the Enchantment of Regress… The "Entul-Nolatari," over the sad, cold body of Arlanna in the stables of the sundered and burned Halls of Eldamar, that dreadful night. It was the Ancient Tongue of the Singing Woods of Lothluthil, and Eldamar knew not what might manifest from the same, for he had no wisdom of how it might appear. Torbair had tutored him in sturdy measure howby this tongue should be intoned; for until now; Eldamar had no knowledge of the same.

In sum, the invocation spoke thus, in the Common Tongue:

"Gird this place with shield unseen;

Repel in sum, all Evil spleen;

Cast back into the echoing fire

all those, who would pollute and mire

The Oneness of The Light."

As the last word of the Spellbinding fell from his lips, from each of his outstretched hands sprang a bursting of blinding, violet-white light. Each bursting writhed and flashed about the two Mark Stones, which glowed; a pale, and icy blueness. Then, it was done. Eldamar held his hands up to his gaze; half-expecting… he did not know what. But all that he saw were his hands as they had always been. True; his fingertips were beset with a vague tingle, but that was the sum of it. He glanced towards the pair of Mark Stones. There was 'naught to see that they were anything more than Mark Stones… just as they had always been.

With care, he walked the High Pass of Ling betwixt the pair of Mark Stones… Nothing. Then he turned, and walked back… Nothing again. Had the spellbind prevailed? There was no way of knowing. He gave a puzzled shrug, and made mount his horse. He rode back through the gates of the High Watchtower, but none paid him any heed as they chiselled and sawed at the stones. Might it be that they could not have seen what had so recently manifested here? But then, this was The Old High Magick, and t'was, as like, that it had cloaked its invocation from them.

So; now, t'was on to the next place where he would lay the spellbind. As he rode down the High Pass of Ling, he turned about in saddle and gazed back. Still there was nothing to tell if the first lie of the Girdle prevailed.

Eldamar came down the High Pass of Ling to a place, some quarter-league to the east of the Redoubt of the Low Riggs of Striding Edge, where an old packhorse track led up to the Washpool of Rinan on the northerly shoulder of the Heights of Rhyddu. In ancient times, the northerly reaches of the Heights of Rhyddu were part of the Tythe of the Farmsteading of Rinan. On this Tythe were grazed the sheep that made yield the greater part of the sum of wool in Lorenfalu. The Washpool of Rinan was a great, stone-lined pit where the shepherds brought these sheep to purge them of besmirch and pests 'ere they were taken to be shorn.

As the call for wool abated, with the taste for finer cloths such as linen and silks; the Washpool was forsaken. Later; its stone body was used as a secure place for the raising of the Lammas Fire until the time that Khallis raised the Beacon of Deep Lamentation high on the ramparts of the Khallis Redoubt. From that time, there would be no more Lammas fires lit on the Washpool of Rinan for fear that it might be prevised that the glow was that of the Beacon of Deep Lamentation.

Now, the Washpool lay dry, and bramble-bestrewn. It would serve well enough for the second situate of the Girdle. Eldamar stood before the forsaken Washpool. Again, he outstretched his hands; one to the Washpool, the other towards the distant, and now; beyond sighting, Mark Stone of Lorenfalu situate deep in the High Pass of Ling. Again, he intoned the Spellbind. As of the first; from each of his outstretched hands sprang a bursting of blinding, violet-white light. Each bursting writhed and flashed as before. From his left-most hand, the bursting darted away over the shoulder of Rhyddu towards the Mark Stone of Lorenfalu, hidden in the Pass below.

From his right-most hand, the bursting surged over the stunted stone edifice of the Washpool which glowed with the same pale, and icy blueness. Here then, was the second link in the Girdle chain now complete. The next situate would be the first of Tristan's great watchtower chain, that rose some two-leagues yonder to the south, upon the distant rise of northern shoulder of Rhyddu. The ride would squander close on the passing of a Sundial shadow.

Some two leagues to the east; the sands of time were running thin for Lokari. The wishful safety of the Windlemoss chasm was long-since spent. Tahkaiia was fully lacking in sum of flume, and might only now, harry and harass the swiftly closing Shadow-Wraith with swoop and snatch of talons. Starshadow was at full hurtle, and Lokari knew that there was small span in remain 'ere he would be taken. The Shadow-Wraith was little more than twenty-cubits behindhand, and Tahkaiia was hard-pressed to overfly the careening Lokari. At the lowest reach of each swooping, she was obliged to haul upwardly in the steepest of sweeping soars; her wingtip raising swirlings of dust as she sheered away in turning for her next swoop.

Each time she so prosecuted this endeavour; in the span squandered, the Shadow-Wraith gained a little reach. It stood plain that Tahkaiia could not prosecute this thwarting beyond a slender span in passing. She had flumed and harried this dreadful Wraith for close on the passing of two Sundial shadows since Windlemoss, and she was now close-spent.

Lokari prevailed upon Starshadow for one last fearsome run; for there! The distant loom of the High Watchtower of Ling. And Starshadow mustered the last of his mettle, and he ran. He ran like the shrieking winter gales off the bleak, grey, flinty mountains. All down into the throat of Ling, he hurtled; the great iron-sheathed gates of the watchtower were closed! Suddenly, there was a blue flash, and the dexter pannier that held the swaddled Witching Bracelet of the "Haldrig en'Seregnir" was torn from Lokari's saddle pommel. Behind, he felt the breath of heat from a burst of flame. Then, the part-built wall of the watchtower was before him. Terror clenched about him… they must surely hurl into it.

Then, Starshadow jumped; and this, the unbridled truth of it... Starshadow passed over ten full cubits of raised walling at full gallop. Lokari glimpsed the white, frightened faces of the Stone-masters, and then he was beyond, into the High Pass of Ling. Tahkaiia swept overhead; as with a blinding blue flash, the Shadow-Wraith struck The Cold Fire-Shield. Writhing and swirling, it was cast back into The Burning Fire Shield which had arisen, as if from nothingness; where it burgeoned into a billow of flaming stink. A dreadful shriek echoed the High Pass, and then it was gone... as if it had never been.

Down the High Pass of Ling, Starshadow cast off his hurtle of gallop, coming to rest in a showering of sparks thrown from his leissor shoes as they bit into the stony ground. Tahkaiia swept overhead, then turning, made compassing glide, calling to Lokari that she would progress to the Redoubt of The Low Riggs of Striding Edge there to rest in the Plain of Shandalar whilst she gathered her strength for the flight to the Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd. The Stone-masters were running from the High Watchtower to see if all was well. They held great consternation as to what had manifested before their eyes. They had cowered away from the rushing Unicorn, seeming pursued by some ominous, dark, writhing nubulousity. They had crouched head as the Unicorn and rider swept over them in flight above the wall. Swift turning again, they had seen 'naught, but two blue flashes, trailed by two burstings of fire. Now, all that was there to tell the tale were the tendrils in remain of the stinking billow that slowly faded, tugged as it was, by the whimpering winds off the Plain of Malphaers.

Holding Lokari in surround, they cast worried question to him. What was this thing that lay in the throat of Ling? What enchantment lurked about this place? Lokari replied, he did not know, for he was fresh out of the east. Whatever it was, it must have been laid for the secureness of Amriath. Was anyone seen in the Pass, of late?

The Stone-masters told of the rider who had come to this place. They told that he had walked the throat of Ling, but they saw nothing that stood as passing strange. When they told of his likeness, all became clear to Lokari. T'was The Lord Guardian of The Light. It could be no other. So, t'would seem Eldamar had woven some great enchantment about the throat of Ling, and t'was just as well; seeing what it had ensnared. Lokari spoke with measured chary to the Stone-masters, saying doubtless all would be well. Then, taking his leave, he rode on down the High Pass of Ling, bound away for the Great Redoubt of the Low Riggs of Striding Edge.

Preying upon his thoughts was the question of how the Shadow-Wraith had breached the Enchanted Girdle of Arfeiniel. It could only be whatever Eldamar had emplaced in the pannier that had been torn from Starshadow's saddle as they were beset by that first blue flash in the throat of Ling. What it might have been was not for the knowing, but, whatever it was; it must have breached a portal in the Girdle. He resolved that this assumption must be laid before Eldamar, for if t'were in truth; then in this thing may be manifest grave peril for them all.

Lokari came down the Pass to the great Iron-sheathed gates of the Redoubt. The watch-guards had perceived his progress, and as he drew nigh, there came the singing of chains as the great capstans were ratcheted about. The heavy gates yawned asunder, and Lokari entered therein. The standing Captain of Guard came forward out of the Bastion in greetings. His countenance was beset with unease. He spoke; his words a'tumble;

'My Lord Lokari, what means this thing? For in truth, I do not relish a night devoid of sleeping, knowing…. "That"… lurks close to hand.'

He made point with his arm to where, some quarter-league into the Plain of Shandalar, 'neath a shaded overhang of rock a little beyond the closest reach of Ling Beckside; there lay a beautiful, silvery dragon. Tahkaiia had settled here, and even now, was a'slumbering; her head folded about with her wings, for all the world, as like some hearth-kitten. Lokari smiled;

'Have no fear, Captain. She is a sound ally. She has protected me the full reach from out of Arfeiniel. She is called by name: Tahkaiia. Let her be, and when she awakens, be sure there are victuals for her needs, 'an she so desires of the same.'

The Captain gazed at Lokari in confusion;

'Victuals?... What then, would such a creature have taste for? For I am certain-sure I have no notion as to what such a beast would take.'

Lokari replied;

'Why; any such meat carcass as you would have about this place, so long as it is not spoiled. Perhaps some old, and worn-out milch, or hamstrung old jade. It matters not, so long as it be fresh.'

Starshadow was led away to manger to take of his easement, and Lokari stepped into the Bastion. They laid refreshment for him. As he partook, he told of what had come to passing; and how his need stood sturdy to progress to Rhom. The Captain replied; word had come that The Lord Eldamar was not at Rhom; indeed, he had been seen hereabouts, but three moons since past. T'was thought that he was riding the Heights of Rhyddu. T'would be better by far, if the Lord Lokari progressed to the Citadel of Shandalar. Queen Cirion would wish that he laid his tale before her.

Lokari told that he was in possession of a precious artefact of which The Lord Eldamar had crucial need. The Captain replied then t'were better to ride escorted to The Citadel, and hold this artefact there for safekeeping. Better by far, than riding the wastelands of Khallis alone; for the Captain's command was small of number in this place. There were none to be spared to ride with Lokari to Rhom.

Lokari saw truth and wisdom in this. The Dragon Flask would be safe in Shandalar, and too, Eldamar need not fret to carry the same across the wastelands. He could take it into his possession at the Citadel as he rode therethrough, bound for the Dragon Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd.

Lokari over-rested that night at the Bastion of Striding Edge. There was small purpose in riding out Starshadow. He too, had need of rest. On the morrow, Lokari stood without the Bastion and gazed to the north. There was no sign of Tahkaiia, and the carcasses that were laid for her were also not there for the seeing. It stood plain that she had feasted early, and progressed away to Storien-Rhudd.

A little beyond the creep of the ninth Sundial shadow of the morning, Lokari set forth for the Citadel of Shandalar. The Captain apportioned him two troopers for his ride. There was small need for this, but, t'was as well to be safe, as to be sorry. They rode out of Ling Beckside into the Great Shandalar Plain. All was peaceful as they rode. The Citadel shone bright and distant to their view in the autumn sunlight. T'was, as like, they would accomplish the same within the span in passing of two or so, Sundial-shadows.

As she overflew the Riggs of Grey Prestor, Tahkaiia saw, far to the north, a pluming of dark smoke staining the skies. Here, lay Storien-Gorth and the great firing pits where the dragons that had accomplished their full sum of span were pyred so their spirits might be freed. This pluming could mean, but one thing. A Loki had cast off its span. But which one? She streamed her wings and body and laid on haste. There! About High Camas Mhor… three Lokis circling… quartering the skies in patrol. Something was amiss. What had come to passing? There were never patrols unless some peril had manifested.

She swept beneath the sentinel Lokis; turning inbound for the Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd. There again! Guardians hard by the Eyrie Portal stones. She came in to settle beside the great Charyanthe Tablet. She cast gaze about. She saw the young female carers of The Keeper of Dread Imposition embracing their lamentations without his Halls. So, the old Mor-Loki had, at last, cast off his span. But this was long expected. Why then, the guards and the patrols?

She progressed the Eyrie to where Khanis; Brood-Sire of the Eyrie of Dragons was communing with a pair of Elders. She attended him patiently until he turned, and beheld her. She perceived that his demeanour was grim. He spoke;

'Welcome, Tahkaiia. Ye return to a singularly dark, and troubled Eyrie. We have embraced a grievous loss.'

She replied;

'The Keeper of Dread Imposition? I watched a Spirit flying free from Storien-Gorth into the arms of the winds of the north as I progressed from the Bastion of Striding Edge.'

Khanis spoke again;

'Aye, but The Keeper did not embrace the passing of his span in natural spend. He knew that, soon enough, his span would come to passing and chose to make one last flight. Two of his carers flew with him, but as they progressed into Yeranoor, hard beyond the shoulder of Camas Mhor, they were assailed from below with flurry of arrows. The Keeper was struck... as was one carer. They both were whirled down onto the Yeranoor Plain where they perished. It would seem our old foe, The Darkness, stirs yet again. I am of a mind that this was plotted to deny The Keeper from laying any deeper reveal of the key to The Dread Imposition. It can only be hoped that The Lord Guardian of The Light has prevailed, 'else we are fated to remain as we are.'

Riding up from the south, Lokari had also seen the dark plume of smoke staining the skies beyond Camas Mhor. He elected that, having given over the leftmost pannier and its content into the safekeeping of Shandalar, he would elicit a fresh mount; leaving Starshadow in the care of Queen Cirion; and ride to Storien-Rhudd in seek of knowing what had come to pass. As he, and his escort made approach the Great Citadel, there was no welcoming call of signal trumpet, and see!... The Battlement embrasures were a'run with sentries. What had happened here? They entered the Great gates, and were held in surround by the Citadel Guard. The Guard Captain stood forth in ominous array, his hand to his sword. Then, a sharp call rang the Muster yard from behind him.

'Stand off! T'is the Dragon Lord, Lokari of Elisriendell. Stand down troopers!'

And there came Lorimer from out of the Citadel Inner Bastion. He strode across the Muster yard; fully armoured in the raiments of The Queen's Guard. With him was Lukas, Captain of Bodyguard Royal. Both held stern countenance and demeanour. Lorimer spoke;

'I bid you welcome, Lokari. You find us beset with fretful and perilous humour, this day. Word has recently come out of Storien-Rhudd that the Loki Keeper of The Dread Imposition has been assailed, and has perished. Further, the Grand Duchess Gwythlyn is now two moons beyond her time of return from her homeland, and our concern stands sturdy for her. It is our fear that The Darkness has returned to stalk the Outlands of Yeranoor. We muster to ride armed incursion to find the truthing of this thing.'

As he spoke, there came the clatter of hooves upon cobbles; and from out the shadows beneath the great arch that spanned the broad alleyway betwixt the Citadel outer wall and the towering stone edifice of the Inner Bastion, rode the Shandalar Guard from their stables. Their cuirasses and helms glittered brightly as they formed rank in the great Muster yard, all washed with the morning sunlight. As the assembly was made, Cirion came forth from out of the Citadel. She gazed upon Lokari, and her troubled countenance softened as she bestowed a slender smile upon him. He knelt before her, in manner befitting, but she raised him up. She spoke, her voice soft;

'There is no require for you to kneel before me, Lokari of Elisriendell; for you are my Sword-brother. You are welcome here; though t'is a disconsolate humour that you find us in, this day. Lorimer has apprised you of how the matter stands?'

Lokari attested to the truth of this thing. He asked that the pannier be held in the stead of Eldamar at Shandalar, and that Starshadow be over-rested. He asked that a horse be furnished to him; for he would seek to ride out with Lorimer, and thence, on to Storien-Rhudd to garner the truth of the smoke staining the northern skies from out of Storien-Gorth.

Cirion vouchsafed that his wishes would be satisfied, and that he should tell of all that he knew of her grandfather's quest to the east upon his return to the Citadel. He lay tell to her of what he knew in concern of the precious artefact the pannier concealed, and that Eldamar held it in crucial need. Cirion attended his tell. When he was done, she spoke again;

'I shall fly out a Merlin with despatch of this thing. Then, I shall ride out Starshadow to Rhom. I hear tell that my grandfather is, even now, laying a Girdle of Enchantment of The Old Magick all across the Heights of Rhyddu. We shall seek him out and bring the pannier to his hand. Of this, you are assured.'

Turning, she called for the Master-at-Arms; instructing that he should swiftly attire Lokari with armour, and that he should call out the Ostle-Master to furnish a sturdy mount from the stables. This being accomplished, Lokari mounted and took his place betwixt Lorimer and Lukas. The mustered company rode out of the Great gate, turning to the north to gallop the Shandalar plain in seek of the truth.

Cirion stood at the gates and watched them ride until they were, but a far distant dusting. She turned again, and walked back across the empty muster yard, beset with disquiet as to what they might find in those northern reaches of her Realm.

Meantime, Eldamar had raised the girdle betwixt the reach of the first two watchtowers that strode the Heights of Rhyddu. The watchers had embraced great trepidation as they beheld the Lord Guardian of The Light stretch out his hands from where sprang a bursting of blinding, violet-white light writhing and flashing about the base of their Watchtower, which glowed a pale, and icy blueness. Eldamar was hard-pressed to assure the watchers that no hurt would befall them. They had no knowing of the ways of The Old Magick, and feared they might awaken upon the hillside with a hundred years since passed, and all their comrades and kin-folk long since dead.

In the end, Eldamar assuaged their fearings. All would be well. This were a mighty shield 'gainst The Darkness. They were safer now than ever they had been. They beheld him with grave qualm as he made to ride on. He needs-must cloak a smile as he saw them make furtive sign of the Horns to his back as he turned away, bound for the third watchtower on the shoulder of Cobblestone Pyke some six leagues distant.

To the south, Torbair was raising the Girdle in manner the same. He had raised the girdle betwixt the reach of three watchtowers, and each time, the watchers had embraced much the same humour as had their brothers to the north. This was far beyond their grasp of knowing. The sun was easing into the west... and soon, t'would be dusk. He had raised close on thirty leagues of Girdle, and there was time enough to return to Rhom. Eldamar would doubtless take rest at one of the watchtowers. T'was, as like, that he had progressed much the same span of distance that day, and with fair fortune they would meet on the morrow.

Torbair looked north towards the next watchtower standing some ten leagues distant. Beyond its lengthening shadow the Heights of Rhyddu clambered away, and just within sighting could be seen the thin finger of the next watchtower; pale, and lonesome on the shoulder of Cobblestone Pyke, the highest rise of Rhyddu. Perhaps, they would meet there. He turned, and rode away to the south, as the watchers muttered amongst themselves in concern of this Torbair of Aiuthal who had settled, who knew… what, upon and about them. And as he rode, he knew without doubting, they too, were making the sign of the Horns to his back.

As the Company of Shandalar rode the Plain to the north, the stain of smoke from beyond High Camas Mhor was fading, tugged and worried by the winds from out of the east. There was no diversion in their ride to avoid the Corries of Thar as would be commonly done. They rode down therein. To their left-most hand were the great Iron rings in the rock face that guarded the throat of the Corries of Thar. There was little of the carcass of Gilmar the Meditor still in remain. Wind-withered tendons had stretched and snapped. All that remained in the fetters were his hand and arm bones. The rest had tumbled to the ground, all mingled with the rusting chains. The Corries lay silent and deserted. Nothing moved, save the scrubby grasses tugged by the cold winds off the shoulder of High Camas Mhor that stood twenty leagues on. Lorimer called the company to halt. There was, but little of the day left in remain. Dusk would soon come a'creeping.

Here, now was shown the Flower of Cirion's Reign in Shandalar. Lorimer laid no command. More... he asked of his troopers, what was their humour for encamping this sinister and eerie place? This was the freedom of the common folk that Cirion had promised. The troopers elected that they were not content in this place. If their Commanders should not demur, they would be more content to ride on, and if needs be, spend the night on the open plains.

Lorimer and Lukas held no issue, and Lokari thought it not his place to lay thought on this matter. So it was; the company galloped on. As dusk fell, it was seen that 'naught, but a slivered moon, as like, the mark of a boot heel in wet sand; rose above the shoulder of High Camas Mhor. Soon, there would be small light to gallop, and t'would be wiser to break ride sooner than later.

They had accomplished some ten leagues beyond the Corries of Thar and were skirting the High Upland Plain, when, under the shadow of Camas Mhor, they spied a bothy. T'was the same bothy where Eldamar had rested as he rode in search of the Moat-Tower of Ghlinngar, Seer of Yeranoor; whilst questing the Tarsius of Yeranoor. The bothy was not sturdy in sum, but t'was enough for a sheltering and the laying out of victuals. On the morrow, they would ride on through the high mountain reaches where lay the Dragon Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd, and there, the truth of this thing would be laid in full reveal.