Chapter Fourteen.

The Sisterhood of The Guardians of The Light.

Whilst the Shandalar squadrons were laying the Cabal maids of Bradda to their last sleeping place with reverence; far to the west, Torbair of Aiuthal rode out from the ancient Tythe barn in the Vale of Lothluthil where he had passed the night. He needs now compass the great Forest of Lothluthil, skirting the Singing woods towards the White stones of Foxcote. Here, above the deep, and silent Meres of Lothluthil, he would raise the next link in the chain of the Enchanted Girdle. T'was good to be home in Elisriendell. Here, there would be no peril. The girdle could be raised in easy accord, and he longed to see again, his Ithilwen Silverleaf.

From the White stones of Foxcote, t'was an easy ride to the newly-raised Halls of Eldamar. This would be the settling place of the last few of the links. The final enchantments would be laid from the Halls of Eldamar to the Broken Henge in the Vale of Caehrig below the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-blue Mere. Thence, the next link would be laid to the Whetstone of Curwean; thence, on to Grimspound Brea above Calverstock Gill. At the last; the link would be carried back to the cairns on the Knoll of Rhyddu. The girdle would then stand complete, and he could return to his hearth. Lifted in heart and spirit, he rode into the deeping green of the Forest of Lothluthil. Here, all was peaceful, and soon enough, he came down upon the White stones of Foxcote.

Making dismount, he stood and stretched out his arms. He intoned the enchantment, and from his fingertips sprang the burstings of blinding, violet-white light. Each bursting writhed and flashed as before. From his left-most hand, the bursting darted away, back to The Cove of Poulna; from his right-most hand, it washed all about the White stones of Foxcote, which glowed the same pale, and icy blueness as had all the rest. As he made to mount his horse, from across the tranquility of the deep and silent Meres of Lothluthil, there came the drumming of hooves. From out of the greening there appeared a knot of shining riders upon their pure-white Unicorns... The Riders of Lothleitha. They made approach and reined in before him. He laughed;

'Indeed, we are well met, Mahriel, Lead Rider of The Sisterhood of Lothleitha. Stands all fair in passing since I am departed from out of Lothluthil?

Mahriel nodded.

'All stands fair, my Lord Torbair; but what is this enchantment we see before us? Is there, perhaps, something the "Kurwa'Tur-selu En'Ithil'Algethi"... the Craftmaster of High Moon-Magick should be laying to our knowing in our stewardship of defence of the Forests of Lothluthil?'

Torbair smiled.

'You see before you, the settling of a deep, and ancient enchantment at the behest of The Knights of the Eternal Watchtower. You have seen the raising of one link in what is called "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting." This Enchanted Girdle now close-compasses most all of the furthermost marches of the Shining Lands. The Lord Eldamar raises the last of the easterly linkings as we speak; and soon enough, I ride for the Halls of Eldamar, and on to Rhyddu to complete the girdle. When t'is done, there shall be no more incurse by any being of Darkling kind into these lands and we may sleep safe in our beds at last.'

Mahriel smiled,

'So, my Lord Torbair; we know you at last, for whom you are. You would have us believe you are Goldsmith of fame and renown; when you are in truth, Knight of the Eternal Watchtower… as is the Lord Eldamar. Why took you so long to un-mask, my Lord? You have long been known as "Kurwa'Tur-selu En'Ithil' Algethi." What now has brought forth the truthing of your exalted standing?'

Torbair studied her a while as she waited his respond, with her pretty, open face curious and questioning with her supposed reveal. Then he spoke; his words careful chose and measured.

'Methinks you might call it the sum of the score due for the failing of the High Moon-Magick in the matter of the saving of a fragile Flower of The West from the clutches of the Darkness.'

Mahriel gazed at him. Her summer-sky blue eyes, now, on the sudden; held the knowing, and beheld Torbair with soft accord. She nodded; murmuring…

'The Lady Arlanna of Fionndell'…

Torbair nodded;

'Aye, the very same. T'is to be hoped that this Enchanted Girdle, this "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting" will guard all other Flowers of The West from a likesome fate. So; now you know the sum of the whole; Mahriel, Lead Rider of The Sisterhood of Lothleitha; and it is to be hoped that you embrace the whole of the knowing in the manner that it is laid before you. The Lord Eldamar is in truth… Master Magus of The Knights of the Eternal Watchtower; as had been his father, The Lord Calamar, Hammer of Astalan, before him. He would not have you know it so; but it is the truthing. The Lord Eldamar is most powerful, 'though he would not embrace his powers until it became needful for him to do so. This need has now come to passing. Amriath is full-safe in his Stewardship. He walks fully embraced in the dreaming of The High Goddess Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being"; and in this, The Light will prevail. But… enough of this. This tell is not for bandy and whisper. Give thanks that you may soon sleep easy in your beds; and that is an end to it.'

Mahriel spoke.

'It shall be as you wish, my Lord Torbair. No mention of this shall be made in indolence, 'nor by design. My word upon it. Now, let us ride company with you to the borders of Lothluthil. We shall then decamp to your Halls and apprise the Lady Ithilwen that you will be with her, by and by.'

Then turning, they rode out to the south.

In Bradda, the Cabal maids and their infants had been laid in a great common cairn. Each maid was laid, as are all sword-maids; with her sword naked upon her; her hands about the hilt and the point betwixt her feet. They were all laid with their heads to the east and their feet to the west. The infants; or such as remained of them; were laid in common accord betwixt a pair of maids. It was not for the knowing which infant should lie with which maid; so they were carefully laid, beset by their sisters grown. Each and all were garlanded with the only flowers that yet bloomed about this place as autumn ran her course. These were the pale, pink campion. There were no other blossoms hereabouts, so these soft, pink blooms needs must suffice.

At the last; Gwythlyn and Tahkaiia sprinkled the Dark meld of herbs and blossoms that Seren had brought from the lodges of the People of The Hollow Hills. The cairn was then fully raised, and the company stood circling it about, with bowed heads as they laid hopes that the maids would find their way home to Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island. After this, Bradda was abandoned. The Chutak carcasses were left where they had fallen. The carrion birds would not be denied their victuals. The Shandalar squadrons rode out to the west, heavy of heart, but resolved that such as this would never be permitted to happen again.

Eldamar was resolved that an incursion into the shadowy Pass of Hestrus would be mounted; there to winnow the shadows; should there be some portal therein to the Abyss. But, that was not for now; that was for another time when he held company with Torbair. The Great Tarsius of Yeranoor needs must be consulted for a spellbinding of the Old High Magick in this endeavour. The Knights of the Eternal Watchtower would lay this blight by the heels. The last few chapters of Volume, the Second were about to be written.

Torbair of Aiuthal rode down through the Beechwoods of Elisriendell in company with the Riders of Lothleitha. Their passing stirred, all spinning and rustling, the early golden ruin of autumn that lay in deep, fiery drifts across the narrow pathway from out of the depths of the Forest of Lothluthil. As they rode into the open meadows, Mahriel and her riders bid him farewell and turned to northerly-west to carry news of his progress to Ithilwen Silverleaf. Torbair settled himself in his saddle and turned into the south. It would be a steady ride to the Halls of Eldamar; he would accomplish the same in something less than the span of a pair of Sundial- shadows, and t'was, but a little beyond zenith. He gazed into the west… towards the grey, flinty mountains. The sky stood pale; winter would soon enough come a'creeping.

It was good to be home in Elisriendell. He had journeyed far, with not a little peril. 'Aye, it would be good to rest in his steading in company with Ithilwen as the white beast of winter came howling out of those distant, grey peaks, choking the meadows with its freezing grip. There, in the distance, rose the Halls of Eldamar. As he made approach, he saw that The Lord Laumil had not been idle. The Halls of Eldamar were indeed raised as Stronghold... a Stronghold that would for ever more be called Arlanronde, in memory of Eldamar's lost Bond-mate, The Lady Arlanna of Fionndell.

All about, was a great, buttressed wall, some thirty cubits in standing, glowing honey-golden in the after-zenith sunlight. The stone-masters of Elisriendell had employed the finest Lothluthil Limestone in their endeavours. The wall stood finely dressed... block upon block, bratticed above and corbelled without. A great pair of oaken gates closed the wall, and led into a great cobbled courtyard that stretched before the Hall principal which stood four-square in the middle of the closure of the compassing walls; being raised to a standing of three floors... the lower being beset with defence casements.

There too, was a defensible undercroft. The sum of the whole edifice was enclosed in a wide, flagged, revetted ditch all about; being called by stronghold builders, a Fosse. The span of this dry ditch, betwixt wall stand and courtyard revetment, held some twenty, and five cubits in reach, and twelve cubits in deeping. In this, there could be no incurse to the body of the Hall, save, by means of a stone bridgework, overseen by corbelled chutes in the upper reaches, down which, boiling oils could be poured upon the heads of attackers. There too, was a sturdy drawbridge that could be wound up to leave a yawning drop into the flagged Fosse.

At the far end of the drawbridge was a sturdy oaken principal door all sheathed in iron. The subordinate buildings… stables, granaries, the forge and such; were laid hard to the compassing walls about the body of the place. In this, there was no place that could not be held to view from the Hall itself. The whole was cunningly contrived; no incursor could for a moment, lie in covert conceal within the walls.

Within the Hall proper, Laumil's stone-masters had crafted an opulent dwelling. The living chambers were abovestairs; the whole being accomplished by means of a great, curving stairway that rose from out of the great gallery on the principal floor. To either side of this gallery were the quarters for the garrison… for Laumil had elected that there would be a standing garrison in this place. The walls of the gallery were cut with Arrow Loops, so that the garrison might target any interloper in the said great gallery, from the safe cover of their quarters.

At the head of the great stairway was yet one more sturdy, iron-sheathed oaken door which led into a lengthwise gallery which ran the sum of reach of the Hall. From off this gallery lay chambers, arrayed upon the upper two floors. On this second floor were the Great Meeting Hall, the kitchens; pantries and butteries. On the top floor were the dwelling chambers, library, wardrobes and such. The whole was carefully and cunningly contrived to afford the most sturdy protection for Eldamar, Artanis and their younglings.

Torbair had yet one more device for the impregnability of this place. He had elicited Laumil to instruct the stone-masters to raise a stone column some three cubits in standing, at each outmost corner of the flagged, revetted Fosse. Here, he would raise a subordinate Enchanted Girdle… the "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting." Thus, the Hall would be secure… no Darkling could ever accomplish ingress.

Torbair stood without the edifice and stretched out his hands. He intoned the spellcasting. From each of his outstretched hands sprang the bursting of blinding, violet-white light. Each bursting writhed and flashed about the two stone columns to the furthest side of the wall, which glowed; a pale, and icy blueness. This, he repeated three times… column to column, until the Enchanted Girdle compassed the whole of Arlanronde. All was now done.

T'was time to ride away from Arlanronde to a place some half-league to the west, where squatted an ancient, and tumbled dolmen. Here, he would lay the link back to the White stones of Foxcote.

All that would then be held in remain, would be the closing links from the dolmen to the Broken Henge in the Vale of Caehrig below the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-blue Mere; thence onwards to the Whetstone of Curwean, and Grimspound Brea above Calverstock Gill. At the last; the link would be carried back to the cairns on the Knoll of Rhyddu. Then, the Girdle would stand complete and he could return at last, to his hearth.

These last links should have been raised as he stood out from Rhom, but Artanis had made stern petition that he should ride her to Storien-Rhudd for the casting down of the Dread Imposition. Thus, he needs-must spend a little more time riding the western lands before he could return to his Ithilwen.

As he had made ready to depart; Torbair spied, that to the western-most reach of the walled closure, the stone-masters had raised a sturdy stone bird-house, much like a dovecote in accord with the instructions of The Lord Laumil. Here would be sheltered the Storm Linnets… the "Sengoldulin" as they were called in the tongue of the Moon-Algethi. So; Torbair's daughter, Catalyn had chosen to come to this place, as had been the propose laid by her mother, Ithilwen. Catalyn Silverleaf was now, a Sorceress in her own right; having 'prenticed herself to her mother who was The Moon-Algethi Sorceress of Lothluthil, as well as Torbair's chosen bond-mate. He knew that this stood well for the protection of The Golden Child when she was birthed. He held remembrance of the manifestation of this fabulous gathering of birds at the engagement in the Vale of Pykestone on the northern reaches of the deep greening, where the Plenmellar Suhai Host was destroyed.

He remembered how, on the shoulder of Pykestone Gill; there stood with him, a young Sorceress fresh out of the Singing Woods. A young Sorceress by name: Ithilwen Silverleaf, who raised her arms out, reaching to either side, and began to sing a soft, and gentle melody. One by the one, small birds of a beautiful plumage had flown to her, perching upon her outstretched arms. In a slender span in passing, there were some dozen or more gathered upon her.

She had murmured something that Torbair could not understand, and the birds began to sing. And here, the pure, unbridled truthing; for, one moment, the sky was blue, and the next it was not. As if from nowhere, there had come a sombre and darkening cloud above the water meadows, and with it, a shrieking, raging wind. A wind that had lifted up the oncoming Shadow-Wraiths and torn them asunder.

Catalyn Silverleaf had elected to come to the Halls of Eldamar, and in this, was the doom of the most minacious emissaries of The Darkness. Shadow-Wraiths were, by far and away, the most dangerous peril. There was small chance of prevailment, if but one should contrive to breach the Enchanted Girdle. The Storm Linnets were a shield where otherwise there would be none. They were kin in kind to the fabled birds of The Mythical Goddess of The Far Northern Lands, known by name "Rhiannon;" being called in Algethi: "Luthienthiel." Many were the tales told of this Goddess by travellers as they gathered about the hearthing fires.

She was always in company with her birds to welcome in the seasons, and three birds in particular, which could either kill the living or restore the dead... Three beautiful, Magick birds; one White; one Emerald green, and one Golden; to welcome in each season as it turned.

They sang enchanted songs which, t'was whispered, could awaken the dead, and lull the living to Eternal sleep. They could, t'was said, heal the sick and wounded with their beautiful songs, 'gainst which, all other bird song was wanting. This then, was the fabled "Song of the Birds of Rhiannon."

These Storm Linnets were Magick creatures... but of another face. When they sang… at the wont of their Mistress; they could raise great, violent storms… such, as would be most efficacious to deny progression of Shadow-Wraiths that, in their natural form, rode the skies in flit and prowl as they sought out their victims. When the Linnets sang, the great storms that they invoked would tear the Shadow-Wraiths into tendrils and shreds.

As Torbair stood in muse of remembrance, there came from without one of the subordinate buildings, the Lord Laumil himself. He came forward to Torbair and laid warm greeting upon him, saying;

'Well, my Lord Torbair, what think you of this place? Have we not honoured the Lord Eldamar, and too; the memory of The Lady Arlanna of Fionndell? I have called out a half-cohort of my finest Men-at-Arms to garrison this stronghold to gainsay the lurk of The Darkness; and the Sorceress Catalyn Silverleaf makes journey from her mother's hearth with sturdy escort as we speak. When she has elicited that the bird-house yonder is fitting to her purpose, she shall call in a covey of her Storm-Linnets for the protection of The Golden Child. She was much distressed at news of the doom of the Lady Arlanna, and has resolved that the same shall not befall the Lady Artanis. She has laid tell that she shall double the tally of Storm Linnets in this place; and in this, all shall be well. Tell me, old friend; when shall we expect the Lord Eldamar and his Lady at this place?'

As Laumil spoke; Torbair was beset with a prowl of disquietude. He knew not why; for this was Laumil whom he had known for most of his days. But; there was something; and so Torbair chose to lay informations simple; and in lack of particularity. He made reply to the questioning of Laumil, thus...

He could not tell the full sum. He had taken leave of Eldamar on the eastern borderlands. Eldamar was returning to Shandalar to bring the Lady Artanis, at the first; to Calverstock, and thence onwards into the west. It might be any fool's guess as to his progress, for the way was distant and vexsome; and the Lady Artanis could not ride hard, carrying as she did… The Golden Child. Laumil nodded, saying;

'I shall ride out a squadron of Elisriendell Rangers in intercept. We shall ride as if, for Calverstock, and thus, will doubtless meet with them along the way. How went your endeavour at the Loki Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd? Did the Lord Eldamar fare well in his quest? Has the Dread Imposition been cast down as was hoped?'

Torbair told, in slimmest specifics; that, which had come to passing; the manner of the losing of the Lady Arlanna… and the finding of the Lady Artanis. He told of the Golden Child, and the foretelling of the Old Woman of the People of The Hollow Hills, and too, of the Mage of Eredun... how both had told that this child would be a beautiful daughter to be birthed upon the Eve of Lammas, one summer hence. She was to be named Kathalyn, and she would grow to become The Revered Mother of The Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel.

He told of how they had said that she would be embraced by the full Dominion of The Benison of The Wiccen Rede and the kinship of The Lord Guardian of The Light. Thus, she would stand as both Wiccen Rede High Priestess, and Guardian of The Light. Kathalyn Seregon would stand, from her Sixteenth summer, as a Mighty Bastion of The Light in the Western Realms. Her destiny was fully embraced in the Dreaming of The High Goddess Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being." Kathalyn Seregon's pathway was forechosen even before she was conceived.

The Lord Laumil, Council Master of Elisriendell, hearkened to this tell in its completeness. For a little while, he was silent. Then he spoke forth;

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'This then, is the sum of The Matter of Amriath. T'would seem the Destiny of The Light shall lie in the hands of this Golden Child. All that has gone before shall be as 'naught… the merest broil in some scurvy, tavern taproom. What you speak of is the Advent of the End of the Shining Days for one, or for the other… the final, and determinant battle of The Eternal Watchtower where The Forces of The Light shall engage The Forces of The Darkness for the sum of the whole.

We must bring the Lady Artanis to this stronghold in all haste, for t'is certain-sure that The Dreadful, Dark Entity: Baelar," will know of this thing, and will spare no expend to confound the birthing of this Golden Child. I shall raise a Legion of the Elisriendell Range-Masters to winnow Amriath to the east, even unto Calverstock, in intercept. The Lady Artanis shall be brought safely into this place.'

He turned away; striding the closure and calling loud for his falconer. Within a small span in passing, a hawk was cast to wing, and darted away into the west, bearing despatch. Laumil stood back to Torbair.

'It is done. The Range-Masters shall ride out within the passing of a Sundial shadow span. We needs must now complete this raising of defences. I bid you fair speed, Torbair of Aiuthal… most trusted Algethi; in your progress to the Broken Henge in the Vale of Caehrig below the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-blue Mere; and thence homeward to your steading, and the company of Ithilwen Silverleaf.

'You stand a true and stalwart friend, famed Goldsmith of Elisriendell, and too... "Craftmaster of High Moon-Magick." Go in peace; for now… it is the turn of the Council Master of Elisriendell to take up the mantle of Grace, and show that he is worth the sum of the weighing.'

Torbair nodded, and turning his mount about, rode out through the great gates, crossing the drawbridge and stone bridgework; thence turning southerly-east for the ride down to the Broken Henge in the Vale of Caehrig. He paused at the tumbled dolmen and laid the Girdle-link back to the White stones of Foxcote.

As he rode on, he made ponder of the words of Laumil; and of Laumil himself. Whilst they had communed, he had felt the slink of unease. He knew not the why, 'nor wherefore of this thing; only that it filled him with chary. Would this indeed, be "The End of the Shining Days" as Laumil had said with such certitude as to give Torbair shudder… as if, some grey goose had, at that same moment, overflown his grave? Did all now rest on this Golden Child who, as yet, lay snug in the pod of her mother's belly? Would this last, great battle, in times as yet, far distant; portend the passing of the time of the Algethi?

If, as in the worst of night terrors this came to passing; would Elaiana, "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being," stand docile as Baelar unleashed his terrible "Sath-Ninduru"… The dread, creeping "Night of the Shadows Rising," with all plunged in back into Chaos, as it had been long and ago, in The Age of The Beginnings? This could not be; Surely, She would not stand idly, and countenance her Dreaming of a World that was lush, and green, and beautiful, to be destroyed. Surely, the vessels that She had dreamed forth... The Race of beings known as Algethi that She had crafted with such thoughtfulness and care; and had fashioned with such extraordinary beauty, would not be suffered to be thrust into the Abyss?

No! This could not be permitted to come to passing; The Light must prevail. Torbair spurred his mount onwards. The sooner he might lay the last links, the sooner he could return to his Ithilwen… and again, he shivered as if the grey geese had once again, flown over his grave.

The ride to the Broken Henge in the Vale of Caehrig below the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere squandered three spans of Sundial-shadows. To the north, he perceived the Great Crystal Castle rising out of the Cornflower-Blue Mere, a league or so, distantly. Torbair had thought to pay hospitable visitation to Chelaine and Marcus, but chose now to raise the link at the Broken Henge, and ride on to the Whetstone of Curwean. There would scarce be time enough to lay this next linking. T'was true that the late autumn sun was even now, lowering in the western skies, and the Whetstone of Curwean was a ride of a sturdy clutch of Sundial-shadow spans in sum. It lay, close on some ten, and five leagues to westwards of The Delvlings… close on half-distance betwixt The Great Crystal Castle on The Cornflower-Blue Mere, and the Garrison of Calverstock. Even at forced gallop, Torbair knew he would have lost the daylight 'ere he came to the Whetstone.

At the Slaughterstone of the Broken Henge, Torbair stretched out his arms. He intoned the spellbinding. As the last word of the Spellbinding fell from his lips; from each of his outstretched hands sprang the same bursting of blinding, violet-white light. The bursting from his left-most hand writhed and flashed about the Slaughterstone, which glowed; a pale, and icy blueness. The bursting from his right-most hand darted away up the Vale of Caehrig towards the ancient, and tumbled dolmen half a league to the west of the newly-raised Halls of Eldamar that would now, and forever more, be called The Stronghold of Arlanronde. The link was secured.

He mounted his steed and galloped away into the east. He rode hard as the sun settled, throwing his shadow longer and longer before him. He came down onto the Whetstone of Curwean as the last glim of dusking was painting the western skies all pale saffron and indigo. Reining in his mount, he un-horsed and stood before the Great Whetstone. How many long-dead warriors had laid edge to their swords since times long forgotten in the mists of forgetfulness on this great grit-stone; all deeply grooved from the honing of countless blades? No matter; t'was, but whimsy.

He stretched out his arms… he intoned the spellbinding, and the burstings of blinding, violet-white light sprang from his hands. To his left, the Whetstone of Curwean flickered and glowed the same pale and icy blueness; whilst from his right-most hand, the bursting of blinding, violet-white light rushed away into the west, towards the Broken Henge in the Vale of Caehrig.

Torbair lowered his arms. He was tired… so tired. This spellbinding exacted a stern levy; it lay plain, in the store of summers he held in sum. Behind the Whetstone, there stood a rude bothy. It was little more than a byre thrown up as a shelter for warriors as they passed through this place, but it would stand his need for rest. Within, t'was a little damp, but a few handfuls of bracken would sweeten the musty smell. He brought in his mount who lay down upon the floor. She too, was tired from the forced gallop. Torbair settled beside her, using her flank as pillow; and soon, both were asleep.

The morning dawned chill, and mist-bewreathed. All about the Whetstone, the fairy rings of Blewit mushrooms were sprouting; their violet stems and dun caps pale with hoar-frost. If only Torbair had the means to kindle a fire… they would make a welcoming breaking of fast. Alas, he did not have such means. So, with a wry, and disappointed grin, he mounted his mare and rode away from the little byre, bound for Grimspound Brea above Calverstock Gill. T'was a ride of some score, and five leagues; the morning was fresh; the mist was a gossamer, shallow sea clinging to the dells and hollows. T'was a late autumn morn of sort to lift the spirits. The sun was clambering into the eastern skies, driving away the last mother-of-pearl and saffron streakings of the dawn.

Distantly, to the east, Torbair espied the lie of The Delvlings; a pale russet, and golden assemblage on the skyline, and there… rising to the south, the thrusting shoulder of Calverstock Gill. He supposed he would encounter the beginnings of the rise within a pair or so, of Sundial shadow spans, and settled his mare into a steady canter across the rolling sweep of the southern Amriath plains.

To the east, with fifty leagues to accomplish 'till they reached the safety of Ling; Eldamar and the Shandalar squadrons, together with Lokari, Gwythlyn, and the Storien-Rhudd companions, Tahkaiia and Khanis, were beyond the willow pool of Arfeiniel and hard- galloping the causeway towards the tumble of Windlemoss Crag fort. Their egression from the ruin of Bradda up through the Vale of Cleigh to the Bridge of Herlin had been without issue. As they turned to the west, it was seen that the distant Pass of Hestrus was cloaked, all mist-bewreathed and shadowy… even more so than it had been before.

Starshadow had paused, and with pricked ears, had stared long and hard at that ominous defile. This was not good; Starshadow sensed something there, and Starshadow was never amiss in his instincts. So; they had gathered pace and ridden hard, 'less something lurked there to mar their progression. As it was, there had been nothing to gift alarm as they galloped the Arfeiniel downlands bounded to their left-most hand by the stride of the Hills of Tillethmhor. 'Naught had been seen, save a lone eagle that had drifted across the endless blue of the autumn skies.

They had galloped the span of five Sundial shadow-spans and their mounts were tiring. Eldamar elected that they break ride at the willow pool where little Feawen Arcamen had prosecuted her "Covenant of Opportunity," and where too, Lokari had first sensed the awful awareness of stealthy pursuit of the Shadow-Wraith as he rode out of Arfeiniel.

Eldamar was troubled by the break of ride at this place that held such a sad remembrance, but the squadrons and their mounts needs-must be rested and watered. They tarried at the willow pool for the passing of a Sundial-shadow. Gwythlyn and Khanis, and Lokari and Tahkaiia wandered the stand of willows, as trothing couples are wont to do, albeit, as yet, there was no troth-bond laid betwixt them. The little glade buzzed with bees 'agathering of their late autumn stores of pollen from the blossoms in remain, and all was a notion of tranquility.

It could be seen that such a scene of normalcy was soothing the humour of the troopers from the horror they had recently encountered at Bradda. Suddenly, the peace was sundered as Gwythlyn came running from the willows with Khanis hard at her heels. She ran to Eldamar, her eyes wide with concern. She cried,

'Grandfather; to horse! There is something coming from out of the east. My instinct cries out that it means us ill. T'is the same feeling I have ever known when I have hunted Wraiths in the Shadowlands. Come now! We dare not linger here!'

Eldamar did not squander a moment to question her. He called the mount, and the whole company galloped away from that place. He knew, all too well, the sharp instincts of his granddaughter; of how she had prevailed as Wraith-Hunter of Yeranoor, and how her instincts would not deceive her for the merest span of a heartbeat.

Bursting out of the narrow cleft that led from Malphaers to the little glade, the company swung onto the causeway that led to Windlemoss. They had accomplished perhaps, ten and eight leagues out of the score and ten down to Windlemoss, when the trailing trooper happened to glance behindwards. Far distant behind, he saw dark shapes wreathing in the skies. He called the alarm; but there was no need; the pommel-stone of Eldamar's great sword "Eitheltuil Eledhwen," in short, spoke... "Eithelhwen"… also called "Wellspring of Algethi Light"; blazed her warning deep in the heart of the crystal carved as like, a star. Eldamar signalled to lay on haste; perhaps, they might out-run these things, though he knew this was indeed, a forlorn hope.

He had glanced back and perceived six… perhaps, seven Shadow-Wraiths. If the company could accomplish Windlemoss, there might be the slimmest of chances. With the towering cliffs of Windlemoss Crag to their backs, they could only be assailed from the front. The squadrons of Shandalar spurred to a wild and reckless hurtle down the causeway. League after league slipped away; closer and closer came the flitting, dreadful shades. There! At last, the crouching tumble of Windlemoss, and also a knot of riders on the causeway to westerly. Was this some entrapment? Had the Darklings woven an ambuscade?

As the squadrons closed on Windlemoss, Eldamar saw they had not. The knot of riders stood clear to his concerning stare. T'was the Fellowship of The Guardians of The Light! There stood Cirion; Tristan and Talith; Marcus and Chelaine, together with Trillian and Calamar. As the squadrons rode in, the Fellowship spread out across the narrow causeway, drawing sword as one. The squadrons rode through, to wheel about below Windlemoss Crag. Eldamar and Gwythlyn drew rein and made dismount, standing shoulder to shoulder with the seven Guardians. They stood in attend of the onrushing Shadow-Wraiths; their swords drawn, with pommel-stones flaring. The Shadow-Wraiths fell upon them, all curling and snaking across the skies; polluting the bright of the morning with their wailing, wordless cries of hatred. There, in the ruins of Windlemoss Crag fort, they were hacked asunder by the Guardians' Swords of The Light; all writhing into vapoury tendrils that burgeoned into stinking billows of yellowy mist that dribbled away into the chasm of Malphaers.

The destruction of the shades spanned no more than perhaps, one tenth-part of a Sundial-shadow; such was the dreadful imposition laid upon them by the Swords of The Light. Then it was done. Eldamar rested on the hilt of "Eithelhwen," and gave a wry grin to his Fellowship of Guardians.

The squadrons stood with Khanis and Tahkaiia, their jaws slack with disbelieving as to what had just manifested there, before them. Khanis and Tahkaiia had no knowing of the Power of The Light; and most, if not all of the Shandalar squadron troopers were too young to have been at Ling or Rhyddu. Thus, they would not have seen such a thing before. Eldamar spoke;

'Indeed, that was well met, my younglings; How knew you of our imperilment?'

Tristan stood forth saying,

'Calelindi made read her glass of revealment; and seeing the lurking peril to the east, flew out her eagle from Calverstock to oversee your progression. It returned bearing ominous tidings of trailment from out the Pass of Hestrus... black shadows that flitted and darted in pursuance of your ride. Word was sent abroad and the Fellowship mustered in ride to your aid. T'would seem we came down on you with small sum in passing to spare.'

Eldamar sighed,

'Aye small sum indeed; they would most certainly have taken us where we stood, my son, had you not ridden to bolster our sword-arms, and for that, I thank you.'

Tristan laid question as to what Eldamar had found to the east. Eldamar told of the ruin of Bradda and the destruction of the Cabal Maids of the Wiccen Rede. Tristan hearkened the dreadful tell in solemn accord. When he had laid the tell in completeness, Eldamar asked,

'In this most recent mellay, did any see the rising out of Charas as these shades were sundered?'

All said they had not; not one rising Golden Orb had been perceived. This was, as Eldamar had feared; The Cabal maids had; each and all, been Charas-wrenched. When a shade such as these has, of late, torn away a Charas and then embraces its own destruction; the captive Charas is freed to rise to the whisper of the Song of Sathulinan. From the common tell that this had not happened as the Wraiths were destroyed it could mean, but one thing… there were more Shadow-Wraiths abroad. The company needs must make sturdy haste to accomplish the refuge of Ling and the "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting," there laid. With this foremost in their thoughts, the company rode out in hurried array, to gallop the last twenty leagues westerly to the Throat of Ling.

Distantly to the south-west, Torbair of Aiuthal was making approach to Grimspound Brea above Calverstock Gill. The climb up to Grimspound was easy enough, and at length, he stood on the shoulder of Calverstock Gill, close by where the Calver beck that watered the garrison, tumbled the rocks in a gushing waterfall to the valley below. Here, amidst the ancient ramparts and ditches of a long-forgotten Hill Fort was a great standing stone, carved deep with ancient runic symbols. Here, he would raise the last, but one, of the linkings of the Enchanted Girdle.

He made dismount and walked to the stone. To the east, in line of sighting, rose the Knoll of Rhyddu. Torbair stretched out his arms and, as with all the rest of the raisings, intoned the spellbinding in the pure tongue of The Moon-Algethi; this tongue being called "Orosta'Sathul"…

"Pela sina theur quelamin,

Vaquet-ilu ulca Vaarn;

Hecil aul n'alaquel maskan,

Ilya los y sangwa ven.

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

In common Algethi, the meaning was always the same:

"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 the burstings of blinding, violet-white light. The bursting from his left-most hand writhed and flashed about the standing stone, which glowed; a pale, and icy blueness. The bursting from his right-most hand swept away into the west, towards the Whetstone of Curwean. With this link settled secure; Torbair made mount and rode with care, down the shale scarp to the southern edge of the Delvlings. Turning to east, he cantered away, skirting The Delvlings as he rode for the Knoll of Rhyddu, and the cairn thereon, wherein The Lady Arlanna of Fionndell slept.

Soon enough, he came down upon the Hollow road skirting The Delvlings where Gwythlyn had sprung the Shadaiian Wraith-Hunters' trap upon the half-cohort of lurking Horanaurks in the slender span in passing before the battle of Rhyddu. A league to the north lay the City of Rhom. He would secure the last closure of the Enchanted Girdle and then, ride for Rhom to elicit victuals and a bed.

Within the span of one-half of a Sundial-shadow, Torbair stood before the little cairn of Arlanna on the heights of the Knoll of Rhyddu. All about the feet of the little cairn now grew a bountiful mantle of delicate, white, star-shaped flowers… "Elenrath" or "Star of the Evening." These; planted there by Gwythlyn to honour her sword-sister; for the delicate little "Elenrath" had ever been Arlanna's most beloved flower.

Torbair stood in silent ponder for a while before the cairn of Arlanna. He was saddened by the failing of the High Moon-Magick in the matter of preserving her span, so cruelly cut short by The Darkness. At length, he stood before her cairn and, this time; with his left-most hand laid softly upon it, and his right-most hand outstretched into the west, he intoned the spellbinding one last time.

There was no bursting of blinding, violet-white light from his left-most hand; although the same darted from his outstretched right-most hand towards the standing stone of Grimspound Brea, above Calverstock Gill. 'Nay; from his left-most hand, there came a soft, golden glow that washed all about the cairn of Arlanna, slowly fading to the same pale, and icy blueness that he had seen at all the other settling places. The Enchanted Girdle was now complete. Torbair stood back, and made mount his mare. He gazed again at the little cairn, washed in a carpet of the delicate, white star-shaped "Elenrath" blossoms. With a sad, soft smile, he whispered,

'Sleep you safe, Milady.'

And turning away, rode down into Rhom.

To the east, the company had accomplished the New Watchtower of Ling without further issue. At the Striding Edge Redoubt, they parted company. Tristan, Talith and their sons rode for Rhom; Marcus and Chelaine rode for the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere. Eldamar, Cirion, Gwythlyn, and the remain, made ride for the Citadel of Shandalar. Eldamar was troubled in sturdy measure as to how he might lay tell of the destruction of the Cabal Maids to Artanis. Cirion lay counsel that he should not bandy words, but lay it upon her in full sum.

So it was; the dreadfulness was laid upon Artanis, who said 'naught. But… all there saw that look in her eyes… the same look that Eldamar had seen distantly past; when they first encountered the horror that was Astalan. She calmed herself and spoke, quietly and with tone that caused hairs to rise upon their nape of neck.

'I shall bide my time and bring forth the Golden Child into my Lord's Halls. I shall stay my wrath, and tarry whilst she grows. But… before you all, I now entreat the Sisterhood of the Guardians of The Light to lay covenant with me that we shall tutor her in the diverse arts of the sword. When the time comes, I shall ride out with her, and this Company of The Light; and we shall tear down The Darkness, never for the returning. They shall rue the day that they laid their dreadful doom upon my sisters at Bradda.'

She cast a cold, and frightening gaze about the Great Throne Chamber of Shandalar. None there raised word to gainsay her avowal. This time; The Dreadful, Dark Entity: Baelar; called too, "The Lord of The Underdark, " had transgressed beyond all that had gone before. Now, He had unleashed the wrath of the Sisterhood of The Guardians of The Light, and the ruination of His Dominion was thus, assured.

The next morn, Eldamar and Artanis bid farewell to Shandalar, and rode for Rhom. The ride was without issue. They rode the day steadily, and came down on Rhom at about the sixth Sundial shadow-span after zenith. They would overnight at Rhom, and ride out on the morrow. As they sat at table with Torbair, who had not yet decamped for home, there was much to hear and much to tell. The Enchanted girdle about Amriath was complete; the new Hall of Arlanronde was all but complete, and would be garrisoned by the Lord Laumil. There too, was a subordinate Enchanted Girdle laid about it. Torbair would ride to the west with Eldamar and Artanis… two Knights of The Eternal Watchtower should serve as sturdy escort across the plains of Amriath.

Later, when Artanis had retired to her chamber, Eldamar and Torbair repaired to the Rhom Archive chamber wherein were safe kept the three volumes of The Tarsius of Yeranoor. They laid study for the span of the burning down of a pair of Honey-wax candles as they prospected for a worthy spellcasting of the Old Magick to close the Pass of Hestrus. At length, they found the same... an ancient enchantment garnered from out of the Wild Wooded Lands by Ghlinngar, the Seer of Yeranoor, in The Age of The Beginnings. It would stand well to lock away what might lurk in that ominous pass.

It was an ancient Charybon device, called by name: "Aelondrae en'Rembina"… "The Riddle of Confinement." Once laid, none within the place where it was raised might escape. The key was a riddle that none within would ever be apprised of… the knowing would not be theirs. It could only be raised by someone without the encirclement of the enchantment solving the riddle. In truth; if laid, then no spawn of The Abyss would ever come forth from the Pass of Hestrus again. This ancient enchantment was scribed down on parchment, to be invoked during the next summer. Then, secure in the knowing that they might confound The Darkness with this thing, Eldamar and Torbair took to their sleeping.

On the morrow, Rodwen the wet-nurse was elicited as to whether she would repair to the Stronghold of Arlanronde with the infant Tharlan; there to become nurse, and later; tutor to both Tharlan and the Golden Child. This, she agreed so to do. Tristan laid sturdy require that in spite of having escort of two Knights of The Eternal Watchtower, the company would take a squadron of Rhom guard as protection as they rode into the west. No dispute of this would be countenanced; the prize to the Darklings was too great. So it was; the company rode out at about the stand of the eighth Sundial-shadow of the morning, to progress Amriath.

The sun was creeping to its dooming in the west as the company came down upon the Great Crystal Castle on the Cornflower-Blue Mere. Chelaine and Marcus had made sturdy require that they break ride here, this night. Artanis could not be supposed to ride the reach of the Plains of Amriath in one day; being with child. So it was; the company over-nighted in the hospitality of Chelaine and Marcus. On the morrow, they rode out on a bright, and placid morn into the west; bound away for Arlanronde.

As the sun was deeply westering, they came down on the newly-raised Halls of Eldamar and entered therein. Already there in attendance was the young Sorceress Catalyn Silverleaf. She had come out of Lothluthil to reside at Arlanronde, as had been spoken of by Torbair and her mother, Ithilwen Silverleaf. Catalyn had brought forth a dozen of the Storm-Linnets which she had emplaced in the Arlanronde Birdhouse. All safeguards were now settled. The Golden Child was as safe as ever she would be; and her birthing time on the eve of Lammas was now, but seven Moon-shadow passings in distance.

'An there be time enough for the telling of such a tale on the morrow.'

Said The Old Storyteller; closing the Great Leathern Volume with a soft thud.