Chapter Six.

The Gathering Beacons of Seuna.

Far to the east, Eldamar and Artanis rode the reaches of Seuna. It was a beautiful land, so unlike its ruined, and ravaged neighbour, Astalan. Great fields of ripening crops strode as far as the eye might see; tranquil streams beset by shading willows meandered through green and fertile valleys. Here and there, they came upon settlements, where they were sturdily challenged by the warrior maidens therein... being held at sword-point and arrow-tip until the Letters of Conveyance, affixed with the Great Seal of The Throng Mistress of Seuna were studied with sturdy purpose.

In this, Eldamar and Artanis had agreed a subtle subterfuge. He would assume a quiescent humour... as if she were his Mistress, and he were her slave. To this end, she rode Starshadow in lead of their progress, and he trailed to rearward mounted upon her crossling Cordach. This would stand plain in the tell that here, was a warrior maid of great standing; for none such as this, would ride a creature of such magnificence. She too, would hold in thrall such a slave as held the demeanour and presence of this one. This slave held no subservient, downcast gaze; this slave wore a great sword. Such warrior maids as they encountered, stared in full doubting of this fellowship. What then, was this thing?

This question was put to Artanis many times as they progressed. Her answer was this: He was no slave; for there were no slaves in her homeland far to the west. He was a Retainer of the Retinue which she held by right, as Mistress of the Wiccen Rede; a Sword-master who rode with her as bodyguard. This cozen seemed to gather acceptance; indeed, many were the offers of purchase of this male. In places, there was some dispute as to their right of passage through certain fiefdoms, but the Letters of Conveyance, bearing the Great Seal of The Throng Mistress of Seuna prevailed in the showing of the same.

At length, they reached the far border of Seuna, and broached the Shire of Ardaltun. Now, the quest might progress in earnest measure, in the seeking of the secret valley of Rhonas-Mhoir. Segartis had told that, when they came down through the soft green valley where ran the crystal clear, and tinkling Ardal beck; then, this was where they would cross into Ardaltun. Before them; at some eight or so leagues distant, they would see the Great Tor of Eilech thrusting up out of the meadows. Here, they should progress forwardly, keeping the Great Tor before them.

As they approached the first rising of the Tor, they should turn into the north. Upon the shoulder of a distant hill they would see a gather of seven trees. These were called the Seven Sisters of Caslech. The secret valley of Rhonas-Mhoir lay a little sum of distance beyond.

The progress to the Tor was without issue. Turning to the east, at the foot of the towering edifice; they beheld, some six, or so leagues distant; the crouching line of hills, beset with a single clump of trees. In the shadow of the Tor, they paused to take water from the diminishing stock in the last water pouch. Doubtless; they would encounter a spring in this verdant land where they might 'plenish the pouches.

Having changed mounts, now that the need for subterfuge was spent; they had progressed, perhaps, one, and one-half leagues in measure, when suddenly, there came the thrum of arrow which brushed Artanis and struck Eldamar in the upper reach of his left arm. He gave a wince of pain. Glancing down, he saw though, that this was no War arrow... this was scarcely a fowling shaft.

Artanis was riding hard towards the concealing long grasses from whence the arrow had sped; her sword naked in her hand. She rode down a figure in lurk therein, raising her sword to strike. At the last; as her sword was poised to strike, she held off her hand. For she saw, not some Darkling; but the frightened eyes of a youngling maid, holding not above the span of ten summers. The maid held a hunting bow, close, as tall in measure as that which she possessed in her standing.

She had even now, notched one more arrow to nocking. How she had prevailed in the strength needed to draw and let fly with such a weapon, was conundrum indeed. Then, Artanis saw the reason. Behind the maid, lay a young male, his countenance twisted in pain. From his lie, Artanis saw that he was in receipt of a sorely sundered leg.

The youngling Maid stood her ground; her eyes were frightened, but her voice was defiant.

'Stand off, you Seuna bitch; my brother is not for the taking into bondage.'

Artanis was hard-pressed not to smile. This little one was brave; brave and feisty. She saw here, an echo of herself when she was of such a clutch of summers as was this one. She spoke; scarcely able to cloak the amusement in her voice...

'You hold me in frail presumption, little warrior; I am no slaver from out of Seuna. We are from far to the west, beyond Malphaers. We mean you no harm. Now, ease your stance, 'else you pierce me through by some paucity of wit.'

As she spoke, Artanis softly sheathed her blade to show that here, there was no deceit. The maid slowly lowered the great bow, albeit, she kept the arrow in slovenly nocking. Eldamar approached, having pulled the slender arrow from out his arm. He gazed at the youngling maid, saying,

'Well, this is a little wildcat, and no misdeem of truth in this!'

The youngling maid stared at him with great frightened eyes. What then, would be her chastisement at his hand, for piercing him with her arrow? He gazed at her for a little while, and then, he smiled.

'That was bravely done, child; you remind me of another youngling maid who is now a Great Queen in her Realm in the West. Her name is Queen Cirion of Shandalar; how are you called?'

The youngling maid regarded this great rider who towered above her, mounted as he was, upon this mighty, white, horned horse. She had never seen such a creature. She gazed awhile, and did not speak. Her eyes were wide in wondering, yet still held a shadow of doubting and mistrust. At length, she spoke,

'I am Lisselindi of Caslech; the settlement beyond yonder hill. Forgive me for piercing you through with my arrow. I prevised that you were here to take my brother who cannot beset himself with sturdy defence, enfeebled as he is, with sundered leg bone.'

Eldamar made dismount. The maid backed away, raising her bow once again. He spoke, gently...

'Calm yourself, Lisselindi of Caslech; I mean only to appraise your brother's hurt. If it is simple-sundered, we may bind it up with branch and fabrick, and convey him to your abode. If it is not, I needs-must set it in line 'ere we move him, 'else he may never reclaim full, and sturdy use of it ever again.'

He moved to the young male, who lay there, beset with bite of lip and wince. Regarding the manner in which the spoiled leg twisted in, from foot to beyond knee; Eldamar thought this were no simple sunder. He gently laid hands upon her brother's thigh, feeling the stand of bone. At length he stood. To Artanis, he spoke softly,

'This is not a simple sundering. Methinks the thigh bone is twiningly breached. I needs-must twist it about, pulling down at the same time. This will gift him much distress. Look you to the child whilst I do this thing.'

Then, to Lisselindi, he asked how this misfortune had manifested itself. She replied they were out a'hunting rabbits. Her brother had given chase to a fat buck, and had stumbled into a burrow cloaked by the long grass, as he raced in trail of the creature. She had heard the snap of his leg breaking from close on twenty-cubits distance. Eldamar nodded; 'aye, then, t'would be a twining breach of the thigh bone. He turned to the brother, and quietly told him of what was about to embrace him. As Eldamar spoke, he carefully laid hands on the spoiled leg, and without warning, twisted and pulled. There came a shiversome, muffled scraping of bone upon bone. Lisselindi's brother gave a great shriek of pain, and swooned fully away. Swiftly Eldamar bound up the leg with branch and fabrick strip, as Lisselindi struggled to free herself from the sturdy clutch of Artanis. Had she escaped, there was no doubt she would have assailed Eldamar for gifting hurt to her brother. 'Aye, she was indeed, a bold-hearted maid.

Artanis lifted the youngling up onto her Cordach crossling and swung up into the saddle behind her. Lisselindi's brother was laid across the sturdy withers of Starshadow, and they turned again to the east, towards the line of hills whereon stood the clutch of trees, by name: the Seven Sisters of Caslech. Lisselindi had told that her settlement lay on the nether side of these hills, and Eldamar had elected that they carefully ride her brother thereto, so his sundered leg-bone might be soundly set by those who, perhaps, had sturdier skill in 'pothicking than did he. For the straightening that Eldamar had gifted, was little more than a relief of sort, as he might make upon some field in heat of battle. If the leg of the brother was to prevail in manner as it once had been, then sounder 'pothicking skill than this, was the require.

As they crested the rise, riding through the clutch of trees; below them lay the settlement of Caslech... a gathering of some score and ten sturdy, wattled, and reed-thatched roundhouses, surrounding a larger roundhouse, which t'would seem, was some gathering place for the dwellers of that place. The whole was enclosed by a palisade; seeming, not so much for defence, more, to gainsay the prowl of wild creatures. Beyond were the meadows and crop fields.

As they rode down onto the settlement, it was seen that several figures came forth, attending their progress. Amongst these, they saw that three, or four carried bows with arrows nocked, but as yet, undrawn. As they rode into through the palisade gate, Lisselindi cried out that all was well. The bowmen lowered their bows in respond. Two of the cottagers came forward, and took down the brother from off Starshadow, to bear him away to a distant roundhouse wherein dwelt their healer.

A Greybeard stood forward. T'would seem he was the head of the settlement. Lisselindi swiftly laid tell of what had befallen her brother as the Greybeard studied Eldamar and Artanis; who spoke,

'I am Artanis Seregon, Cabal Mistress of the Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel, and this is Eldamar, Lord Guardian of The Light from the Shining Lands far to the West. We quest the Dolmen of Rhonas-Mhoir in seek of The Riddle of The Dread Imposition. We came upon these younglings in the meadows to the west of this place, and brought them home to you.'

The Greybeard shrugged, and spoke,

'The Dolmen of Rhonas-Mhoir? Then, I fear your quest will not prevail. The capstone of the Dolmen tumbled in a storm some eight summers since, and all that remains now are, but two standing stones. It is fully slighted and bestrewn with bramble.'

Eldamar gave solemn gaze.

'Then, all is lost; the quest lies broken at our feet. For t'was the only place known, where the Riddle might be breached.'

The Greybeard made known his name.

'I am Braydon. There is one who might yet know of this thing you seek. I speak of old Nundah, the Crone of Harlond Coomb. She holds in sum, countless summers; being the last of those who were Moon-Maidens in their springtimes of ages past. She would be your last, best hope. I will convey you to her presence, and then, we shall see.'

He strode to a bothy and brought forth his horse. Artanis gazed in amazement; t'was an Erinthorean Cordach crossling stallion, so close in passing to her mount, that they might be colt brothers. Braydon smiled;

'Mistress Artanis, you hold the humour of great bafflement. We Erinthoreans spread far from our homeland when the Great Ice-field overwhelmed all. Not all of us were laid into thrall by the Taraks in Old Eldanore. You are among friends here.'

Riding out to east, they galloped the meadows of Ardaltun. Within the space of close, one-half of a Sundial-shadow, they came upon a small roundhouse; the like of those in Caslech; settled in a small coomb. Braydon rode up the coomb, calling out for Nundah to attend him. An ancient female came to the doorway of the roundhouse, and looked forth with milky gaze towards the cry of her name.

'Why do you thunder forth like some snared hog? I am not bereft of hearkening to you, Braydon of Caslech; your bellowing will shake down my walls!'

Braydon laughed.

'Admonish me not, Nundah, 'else my companion guests will think you 'naught but a surly old crone.'

He made dismount, and embraced her, saying:

'My friends from the far distant west are in seek of your wisdom in the matter of the Riddle of The Dread Imposition, or such knowing as you might possess.'

Nundah stood close to Eldamar and peering into his face, spoke softly,

'I know your face. You are one of the Guardian Brotherhood who smote down the Darklings at the Ragnor Redoubt... Eldamar; 'aye, that be your name.'

Eldamar stared at her. His surprise was complete.

'How then, do you know me? For I know not of you.'

Nundah gave a crooked, and tooth-gappy smile.

'There is no cause that you should, Guardian; but I remember you. I was, but one of the Succour maidens of Lankriggen, tending those who, by good fortune, came off the field of battle alive, albeit they were all hacked and bloodied. We tended them to hindwards of the fighting. You would not have encountered me, but... you fluttered many of my sisters' hearts back then. You could have taken your pick from among us.'

She looked towards Artanis; and thence, back to Eldamar, and gave a chuckle;

'And, t'would seem, you still possess the gift. Shame upon you!'

Seeing the blush rise into the cheeks of Artanis at this aside, Eldamar chose swiftly to guide Nundah away from this reveal of things distant, and past.

'What know you of the Riddle of The Dread Imposition? I seek the knowing to perhaps, undo the Dread Imposition laid forth upon the early Guardians by The Dark Entity: Baelar.'

Nundah beset him with her milky gaze.

'Ah, the Dragon Imposition, and the enigma of the Great Stone Tablet of Storien-Rhudd, high on Camas Mhor. So, that is your quest. Alas, you shall not find the key at the Dolmen of Rhonas-Mhoir. That is but a myth of subterfuge laid for whatever reason, far back in the mists of forgetfulness. There is no portal to The Dreaming of Elaiana... "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being."

She nodded; her mouth gifting a disrelishing chumble to her gappy gums.

'What you seek is the key to unlock the enigma of The Stone; not the knowing of the tongue. For it is no tongue. Charyanthe was lost far back in the Age of The Beginnings. This thing that you seek is the means by which you may read the stone. For the stone is the riddle. It is not carved with words in the Charyanthe tongue, 'nor any other. There is a device hereabouts that you may employ to unlock this conundrum, and thus, lift the Dragon Imposition, but I fear t'is beyond your grasp.'

Eldamar was by now, confused and curious in like measure. He elicited Nundah to take up the tell anew. She spoke again,

'That, which you seek was crafted, and brought out of the far Western lands by the first dream-formed Algethi: Lokari… The Dragon Lord; after he brought forth the Dragons on the long roam to Camas Mhor. He knew he could not use this device. None could, save for he who would, one day come... the one who would be called Lord Guardian of The Light. The Dragon Lord knew he must conceal this device far away from the clutches of the Darkling Minions. If they were to discover it, they would destroy it, and the Dread Imposition would then, never be lifted.

He made the long roam into the east, and concealed the device close by a small stronghold in Astalan. In truth, it was little more than a fortified farmsteading; having a compassing wall, a gate, and a simple Sally port. But, t'was a place that, in time would rise to become the Royal Palace... The Citadel that is now held by the tyrant Berenvag.

Berenvag learned that the device was there, somewhere about the Palace. He and his minions have scoured the Palace and surround these last eight summers, but to no avail. Even if he gained, and then solved the conundrum laid as to where it is concealed, he would not prevail in possessing it. He has not the key. Your companion Artanis has it in her possession. The key is the Talisman of Maeglin; and, at the appointed time, she shall know how it must be used. Thus, all you need to accomplish is the breaching of the Palace defences, then, the destruction of Berenvag and his Hordes; and, at the last, the solving of the riddle gifted to me by those of the lineage of The Dragon Lord. This, I can furnish you with. If you prosecute all of these things, then, the device shall come to your hand.'

She delved into a large chest hard 'gainst the nether wall of her bothy, and brought forth an ancient, and fading parchment. She turned again, and thrust it to Eldamar, saying,

'Here is the Riddle. It needs-be unravelled with guile. If you prevail, it will lead you to the device of which I speak.'

Eldamar took the parchment, and with great care, laid it upon the table. Gently, he spread it out to its full measure. Thereon, in elegant, and ancient Script Charybon Runic, were written these words; which, in the common tongue spoke thus:

"Here, they rode with naked sword, to gift doom in covert array.

The Rive that holds the peril thin, will guide the seeker on his way.

Decry the east wind in thy face; it is not here, the prize to find;

For though thy foe may think it so; their dark designs make them full blind.

Progress on, though Doom besets thee; hold in truth, the lonesome span,

Soon enough, with steadfast humour... Lo! The Plain of Astalan."

"Here, ye needs must trail the sedge to east, in pace... two score; no less.

Before ye, stands a tumbled cairn; slighted by the foe, in guess

the prize were here; but, it were not; The Dragon Lord held store of guile;

Progress four score paces on, to where the winds turn silver smile.

Here, ye stand off to the south, and soon enough, Ye there, shall spy

a Lith, that stands, all finger straight; as if, in pointing to the sky."

"Here; behold the shadow crown, cast by the sun at Zenith rise.

All cloaked beneath the sward where 'ere it falls, ye shall espy the prize.

Here, behold the key to thy conundrum, now safe to thy hand...

Progress back to Camas Mhor, far distant in the Western land.

The Mal'loki that clasps the crystal, holds the Riddle sum in thrall.

Resolve the parchment, speak the word... behold; Dread Imposition's fall!"

Eldamar gazed at the ancient parchment; this were riddle indeed. In sum, it stood plain that this lay the tell of where to find this device, But, what was the device? There seemed no clue, except… the line:

'The Mal'loki that clasps the crystal, holds the Riddle sum in thrall.'

"Mal'loki" was Common Algethi; meaning "Golden Dragon." A Golden Dragon clasping a Crystal? Could this device be some manner of Jewel? Perhaps, a jewel that was held to the eye, whilst gaze was laid upon the Great Stone Tablet of Storien-Rhudd? But how then, to read the Charyanthe carving? For all that would be seen would be the Great Tablet through the jewel... if t'were indeed a jewel. Nay, there must be more to this. This notion was foolish-easy, and Lokari was no fool.

Artanis was musing the first part of the riddle. She gifted her thinking aloud.

'Warriors riding to the attack in covert array… Nundah has said the Citadel was once a simple stronghold with a sally port. From this sally port, raiding parties would sally forth in covert array to impose surprise attack upon their foes; for there is no other purpose than that, for a sally port. That must be it. We start from the Citadel; not, in the Citadel.'

Eldamar gazed again at the parchment. He spoke,

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'Aye, that is as like, the truthing of this thing. We shall breach this riddle line by line, you and I. Now, a "Rive" methinks; in this, is the cleaving of a pathway. Cast forth your remembrance to our ride. In our progress of the Great Marsh of Rachlareth, was there not a cleave in the path; one arm that turned towards the Citadel; the other progressing into the south? The pathway would hold the peril of blundering into the marsh thin indeed, if the path were to be followed with care; and further... the path to the Citadel progressed to east; thus "Decry the east wind in thy face!. Aye, this is beginning to unravel.'

Artanis, her eyes bright, took up the conundrum.

'Aye, t'would seem we need to progress the Great Marsh to its southerly borders, and then turn into the east, where we shall see a tumble-down cairn; but...

"to where the winds turn silver smile"…

This is a curious utterance, what might it mean?'

Eldamar made sturdy ponder, for this were a weighty clue. If they were found wanting in this part, then, the whole might be lost. He paced to the door of the roundhouse and stood without, beset with ponder, and gazing up the little coomb. A soft wind was whispering in from the west, all rustling the leaves. The willows were blushing silver; rain could be on its way. Then it came to him. Fool!... Of course! He returned to the roundhouse, saying,

'In truth, I fear I am in receipt of too many summers for this sport; my reasoning grows addled!... T'is a willow tree! When the wind blows, their leaves turn about and show the silver of their nether faces. So, we progress east to a willow tree, and then turn into the south.'

Artanis was making ponder the words that lay beyond this reveal.

'What then, is a "Lith?" For, in truth, t'is a word that is not in the realm of my knowing.'

Eldamar smiled.

'Ah! That is no conundrum at all. It is an ancient word that is given to a standing stone; one that we would call "Menhir" in the west. Methinks that what Lokari lay here, is that when the sun is at zenith, the place where the head of the shadow so cast by the stone will lie, is where the prize will be found, buried beneath the grass at its feet. So, t'would seem we have close-breached this riddle, you and I. T'is the last two lines that may be where it will fall. It speaks of the Golden Dragon clasping the crystal; and also lays hint that this, whatever it might be, holds the resolve of this thing… perhaps, upon another parchment, Until we might lay our hands upon this thing, then we shall not hold the truthing of this riddle.'

Laying their thanks upon Nundah, they took their leave. She stood at the door of her roundhouse and watched them down the coomb, gifting a last wave of farewell. They rode back through the meadows to Caslech, in high spirits, but beset with puzzlement. It was, as like, that the prize was within their grasp, were it still there; but how then, to exploit the same? There must be yet another riddle to be found.

Braydon had said they must remain in Caslech, and join all as they sat at table. They should rest the night here, for they were most welcome. As they shared the meal, they talked of the riddle. Braydon told that it was beyond his rustic wit; he was in awe of their swift unravelling that, which seemed to him, curious, and passing strange. He held them in sturdy amaze. Eldamar was saying that Braydon should not decry himself; each held to his own gifting… when a youngling Caslech maid burst into the gathering, crying that the Gathering Beacons of Seuna were lit.

Swiftly, they decamped without, and there! All across the sky to the north, the beacons flared in their orangey twinkle. What could this be? The Gathering Beacons of Seuna were lit to raise the Army of warrior maidens. What had befallen them, to warrant such stern measure?

Eldamar and Artanis elected they must ride out forthwith. Bidding hasty thanks to Braydon and his steading folk for their hospitality, they rode out of Caslech at stern pace, galloping beyond the shadowy Seven Sisters of Caslech; riding west, towards the Great Tor of Eilech standing darkly sombre in the thin moonlight. Under the moon-cast shadow of the Tor they turned to north, and now the chain of Gathering Beacons stood plain in their view.

Eight leagues galloped, with the glow of the Beacons washing the cloud-gather above them all orangey, they eventually breached the borders of Seuna at Ardal beck. There; they paused and exchanged mounts once more. It would seem ever more needful to employ this subterfuge; for they knew not what they might find in Seuna.

Up through the soft green valley of Ardal beck, they galloped, until they came down upon the pasture lands of Seuna. Now, they could see plain, the great chain of Gathering Beacons marching across Seuna from high place to high place. The whole of the Realm, it seemed, was being raised. What had happened here?

They rode into the first of the settlements. All that were there in the remain, were the matrons... those who were too deep in receipt of gatherment of summers to ride the path of the warrior. All the warrior maids had ridden to the Great Stronghold of Ardenrhyne. Artanis lay the question before one of these matrons, and her reply was beyond any thing they might have feared.

The matron told that Segartis, in the face of her council's displeasure; had made recent habit of riding the Great Forest of Cuthalion, bound for Luxtan; there to tryst with Trethan. After they had consummated their trysting, Trethan would ride back through Cuthalion with her to the borders of Seuna.

Four moons past; they had been ambushed by Galdors. All of this had been uncloaked by the Warrior Maid, Ginessa; she, who had disputed with Artanis at Council. Ginessa had ridden out a questing patrol when Segartis had not returned to the Stronghold of Ardenrhyne in the morning, as had become her custom of late. When, at length, they came upon her, deep in the Great Forest of Cuthalion; they found Segartis nailed by her wrists to a great oak; stripped, and diversely, and savagely defiled by the Galdor patrol. Then, she had been abandoned there to perish.

Segartis still lived, but she was sorely hurt. She would not take sword in hand for many moons, by reason of the heavy, Iron cob nails that the Galdors had used to nail her by her wrists to the trunk of the tree. Such Iron cob nails were commonly used to fashion roofing frames. They were consummately vexsome to pull free, and Segartis had suffered greatly in their endeavours to release her from their piercings.

At her command, they had winnowed the underwood for sign of Trethan, but he was not to be found. Perhaps, he had crawled away to seek some place to die, for Segartis told, that from what she had seen; his woundings were dreadful to behold.

Upon their return to the Stronghold of Ardenrhyne, the Great Gathering Beacon had been fired, immediately. In receipt of this assail upon the Throng Mistress of Seuna; Seuna was now at war. Artanis gave thanks to the matron for this grim intelligence. Turning to Eldamar, she cried,

'Come, Sword-master, we ride for Ardenrhyne to join my sisters.'

Eldamar made reply,

'Aye Mistress; my blade to your command, my life to your service.'

For even now, it stood prudent to hold their elected subterfuge, as to his standing. But, as they rode out, he saw no countenances of hostile disdain upon these matrons. More; he saw, here and there, a swift-cloaked shadow of something else. Approval? Admiration? T'was no easy task to read the look besetting their faces as they gazed upon this Sword-master bodyguard of the warrior maid from the west; sanguine and masterful in his grasp of his masculinity. He was no unctuous slave, the like of which they had held in surround for as long as they might remember. Whatever was cloaked beneath their gaze; t'was not detestation.

It was the same in all the settlements they progressed. In each, they garnered a little more of what had befallen Seuna that dreadful night. With each tell, the whole became more grisly. T'would seem, that the glow of flames had been perceived to the northerly-west as Ginessa's questing patrol were loosing Segartis from her impalement upon the tree. Three of the patrol had been detached to ride forth to attest this glow. In the return, their tell was gruesome. T'would seem that the Galdors had ridden down onto Luxtan, and slaughtered all they had found there. Then, they had fired the farmstead.

The Witching Mistress, Justalyn; and a maid there, with her... once, of comely countenance; having hair of a deep chestnut hue, and holding some score or so, of summers; had been bound to tables and severally, and brutally ravished. Then, they had endured depraved, and loathsome torturing; their throats had been slashed across, and they had been left bound to the tables, to rot.

There too, was a young male of like age as the younger female. He had fought bravely, if the sum of Galdor carcasses scattered about lay tell of the truth. He had been overwhelmed by force of arms; gelded in full sum; thence, nailed to the door of the stone-built farmstead dwelling and used as target practice by the Galdor crossbow troopers. Then Luxtan had been fired about him. It was the best hope that he had perished from the quarrels or bled to death from his gelding 'ere the flames consumed him.

The two females were laid to cairn behind the smouldering ruins of the farmsteading. There was no call for laying of naked sword upon them; they were not true warriors. Even so, they were laid into their cairn in manner as if they were; their feet to the west, and their heads to the east. A circlet of wood sorrel blossoms was laid upon each brow. The remains of the young male was taken down from the charred door and decently laid into a cairn of his own, hard by that of the females. No swords were found in the ruins, and there were no other bodies, thereabouts.

The question was laid, from settlement to settlement; were there only two females found at Luxtan? Always, the answer was the same... The Witching Mistress and the chestnut-haired maid; none other. What then, had become of Sanya? Had she been taken by the Galdors to be thralled once again, in some Naigias? Was she in hiding? Had she been ravished, and then despatched, close by the farmsteading? There could be no knowing of which, if any of these fates had befallen her.

In hearing the dreadful fate of Kerrin, Artanis became silent. She had held a softly-cloaked flame for this handsome young one; and Eldamar saw again, in her eyes... green, and cold as ice; that look that he had seen before. The look that gifted a cold shiver; like as, when a grey goose has, at that same moment, flown over your grave... the look that made the blood run cold in the seeing. There now would be no more bridling her in curb.

They galloped the meadow-lands of Seuna by the light of the Beacon glow that hung in the clouds, washing the meadows in ominous blush. Far off, they saw, time and again; bands of shadowy riders galloping northwardly-east. Each and all, were riding by the Beacon flicker; bound towards the Stronghold of Ardenrhyne.

Ten leagues on, and they hearkened to a gentle rumble in the night air... a gentle rumble that fattened to a rolling thunder. Countless hooves were drumming in from the west. Soon, they espied a Great Host riding a merging progress. Artanis laid heel and forced the pace. Soon, they were in surround of perhaps, six, or seven thousand warrior maids. This, was the gathered War-Host from the western reaches of Seuna; who lay no hint of disdain upon Eldamar, riding as he was, with this warrior maid from out of the west. Here, was no need for Letters of Conveyance bearing The Great Seal of The Throng Mistress of Seuna. Here, there was common cause.

Twenty more leagues galloped; then, before them, jutted the Stronghold of Ardenrhyne. All about the meadows the Host of Seuna was laying encampment. The Stronghold wall flared with countless links. Artanis and Eldamar parted the Western Host and galloped up the steep, and winding, flagged pathway that led to the mighty gate-tower. Here, there was no challenge thrown; here, there was no stand of hostile suspicion in the eyes of the warrior maids who thronged the cobbled streets.

They clattered into the muster yard of the Great Citadel. The warrior maid Ginessa received them. She held not the truculent, and threatensome demeanour she had shown to Artanis the last time they had met. She spoke,

'Artanis; Cabal Mistress of the Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel; My Lord Eldamar, Guardian of The Light; There is peace betwixt us this night. The Throng Mistress Segartis bids me convey you to her presence, forthwith. For my part, I offer you my condolence for the loss of your companions.'

She glanced at Artanis, and thence to Eldamar.

Eldamar chose to speak first.

'I thank you, Ginessa. That was nobly spoken. What pray, is your standing in the matter of this gathered Host?'

Ginessa gifted him a thin smile,

'For my sins, I am promoted to Imperatrix of the Host in sum. Before Mistress Segartis embraced her adversity, I was, but a lowly Captain. Methinks I shall have need of your mentoring in this issue, my Lord; for your fame in the matter of Darkling destruction has most recently come to my knowing. For my demeanour, the last time we crossed paths, I am truly shamed.'

Eldamar smiled,

'Ginessa of Seuna; to lay forth such avowal in the face of your Culture takes great store of sturdy courage. You shall prevail in this matter, and I shall willingly gift to you such grasp of strategy as I possess. So too, will Artanis; for she is consummately skilled in this thing that we now face.'

Ginessa conveyed Artanis and Eldamar to Segartis. She lay in her chamber, pale, and in pain. Her wrists were tightly-bound with fabrick bindings, staining red. The Iron cob nails had sundered her veins, and her blood had seeped for four moons, now since passed. She also bled from her nether femininity in sum, far beyond that which would manifest were she embraced by her Moon-flow. The barbarian Galdors had all rent and torn her within, by their savage, and relentless ravishment. Her 'pothicking maids were at a loss as to what they might employ to her comfort. As they entered into her chamber, she gifted them a thin, pale smile.

'Forgive me for not having welcomed you, myself; but, as you see… I am not at my best, this day. Is there news of Trethan? For they will tell me 'naught.'

Eldamar looked to Artanis. The gaze of Segartis became frightened. She whispered,

'Has he been found? Is he perished… tell me.'

Eldamar spoke, gently,

'He has not been found, Segartis. Calm yourself, for Trethan is a sturdy one. At the assault on the Ragnor Redoubt, he lay on the field of battle for some two moons with his shoulder torn asunder, and maggots making free with his wound. T'would take more than a handful of Galdors to gift full doom to Trethan.'

He watched, as Segartis held tight closed her eyes, in pain, and bit her nether lip. Turning to Ginessa, he swiftly probed the lineage of the Seuna warriors, for they held countenance in kind, of Algethi. He had about him, Tincture of Alfirin. Did they suppose it would gift its healing kiss to such as Segartis? Ginessa pondered. She said there was no knowing; Alfirin grew not in Seuna. It had never been there to use. Eldamar drew forth a phial of Alfirin Tincture. With singular care, the maids loosed the binding to her wrists. The blood welled out from the great, ragged holes that the Iron cob nails had torn.

Gently, Eldamar made drip the golden liquid into the holes, where it made mingle with the slow seep of her blood. And, as they watched, the welling of her blood diminished. Slowly... so slowly as to be imagined; the torn flesh began to gather together. Eldamar passed the phial to Artanis. The maids should now lay Segartis bare, and attend to the hurt in her nether femininity. He would wait without; for it was not seemly to deny her modesty.

He made to remove himself from the chamber as they drew back the covers from about her; yet he could not, but fail to see the bright red stain upon the undersheet beneath her loins. And now, he understood full-well, why the women of Seuna had held such detestation of males.

At length, Artanis came forth from the chamber. She spoke,

'The bleeding has staunched. The Alfirin has bestowed a sturdy mending upon her, even to the injuries of her wilful, and brutal defilement. Segartis will prevail, but she is as weak as a foundling kitten. She will not ride to war.'

Eldamar smiled with relief,

'These are good tidings indeed; it would seem we are closer in kind to these Seunaians, than they would have us deem. But, that is not the foremost issue here.'

Ginessa came from the chamber, her eyes bright; she made to speak, but Eldamar hushed her, saying,

'Segartis needs gather her strength; for she has lost much blood. Send word to her kitchen mistress that she must be fed such morsels as sturdy bread made with flour that has not been ground to excess; and apricots, and peas, and beans. Such victuals will fortify her blood once again. This thing I learnt in my springtime when I dragged sword in the Great Suhai War.'

Ginessa beheld Eldamar with a gaze that close, seemed to hold a shadow of admiration. She spoke,

'Aye, My Lord; it shall be done. And I thank you for your aid and counsel. Tell me; are all males in the west, such as you? Sword-master, Sage, and now… 'Pothick? For if they are; then I am not so certain-sure that our Culture is so sound as I beheld it so to be, a little while since passed.'

Eldamar smiled.

'Why, thank you, Ginessa. As to your question; nay, I am nothing out of the ordinary in Amriath. We have bond-mates who hold equal standing in our Halls. But, this is for another time. For now, we needs must bring this barbarian Berenvag to heel.'

Ginessa gifted him a grim smile.

'Aye, and I have just the device to accomplish this.'

She turned to the doorway again, and entered therein. They heard the murmur of voices for a little while, and then she returned. To the guard at the head of the stair, she cast a curt order.

'The Throng Mistress commands the Avalquare to be summoned.'

The guard sped to her command. Ginessa said they should progress up to the battlements. There, they gazed out over the meadows. Below them, as far as the eye might perceive, lay the encamped Host. Many more had ridden in, in the span of time since passing. Eldamar and Artanis gazed in amaze. There must be eighty-score of hundreds down there. The camp-fires and flaring links lay about, twinkling, as would the stars in the night sky. As they watched, the order was laid in the Beacon tower. Ginessa spoke,

'Now you shall see a curiosity. The Beacon Mistress will lay the powder of a curious russet rock into the flames, which will manifest a different hue.'

As she spoke, the Beacon flared silver; a brilliant, eye-searing silver. It was wondrous to behold. She spoke again,

'Now, the Avalquare will ride. For these barbarians there shall now be no new dawn.'

As she spoke of these Warriors, Eldamar surmised that they were, in Seuna; much as the Khuzud-Mahin were to Khallis, or the Nemesis of Lothluthil were to The Singing Woods; or again, as the Riders of Lothleitha were to Elisriendell. It was, as like, that they would be mounted Incursion raiders; sturdy-trained and disciplined. Not for them, the wild mellay... the ebb and flow of battle. They would strike hard; slaughter all, and then withdraw for their next incurse. Their settlement was no more than three-leagues distant. They would ride in before a singular Sundial-shadow vessel had tumbled the sum of its sands.

A singular Sundial-shadow vessel would not have been gifted the span in passing for it to pour its sum of sand before the blare of a bright trumpet echoed the walls of Ardenrhyne. In from the east rode the Avalquare. In Company, they numbered some twelve- score. They did not make to encamp with the Host; instead, they rode the steep, and winding flagged pathway beneath the walls that led up to the mighty gate-tower. They reined in at the great mustering courtyard hard by the Citadel, and as one, made dismount.

Each Avalquare maid held stature beyond three, and three-quarter cubits; each was clad in bustier and war-skirt of shimmering mail. Each possessed a wicked cavalry assault sabre and a powerful, double-curved bow. Every mount embraced at least ten, and eight hands, and all were war-stallions. Their Captain stood to Ginessa and laid greetings. The Avalquare Commander was an impressive maid. She stood close to four cubits, with her honey-blonde hair wound up into war-braids. She possessed watchful, deep-grey eyes and a steadfast demeanour. She was called by name: Fiannah.

The War Council of Seuna gathered together in the Great Chamber of The Citadel. Segartis sat at head of table, bearing a countenance that was both pale, and weakly. The Avalquare Commander, Fiannah, sat to her right-most hand, Ginessa sat to her left-most. The other warrior maids of eminent standing in Ardenrhyne sat in surround with the Phalanx Captains of the Avalquare. Silence fell about the table as Eldamar and Artanis made enter the Chamber. Segartis spoke;

'Sisters; make welcome Eldamar, Lord Guardian of The Light, from the far distant, Western Realms; and Artanis; Cabal Mistress of the Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel. We are beholden to them both. The Lord Eldamar has gifted me a singularly wondrous physick, without which, it is as like, I would not be with you this day. I would, as like, be progressing the Dying Realms in seek of The Tranquil Islands as we speak.

I have petitioned him to lay Strategy as to how we might wipe these barbarians from out of our Realm; even to the last one. The Lord Eldamar has the knowing; for he has overseen the ruination of a Host such as that which faces us; in his homelands far to the west. Hold no assumption that, here; it will be the same as hunting down by ones, and by twos, those barbarians foolish enough to breach our borderlands.'

Eldamar made good his feet, saying,

'I thank you, Mistress Segartis; I would not presume to lay tactics specific, to this Assembly. That; I shall leave to the Commanders, for they alone, know how best they might engage this barbarian Host. I shall but lay here the tell of what the warrior maidens of Seuna may expect from these vermin. For these Horanaurks hold stern Regiment when they maraud, and possess not a shred of fear. My purpose is to apprise you of the jeopardy, so that you may devise tactics in accord with your warriors' diverse skills and strengths; from which we shall then contrive our Strategy.'

He then lay forth to the Council all that he held in sum of knowing, concerning the Horanaurk. In this, the warrior maidens attended his every word, with grim, and solemn countenances.

When he had laid all before them, he turned to Artanis, saying,

'I bid you; heed the counsel of Mistress Artanis. She holds a consummate skill in the slaughtering of these vermin. Such, as she will now lay before you, may well preserve your spans in this endeavour.'

Artanis stood, and addressed the Council, saying,

'All that the Lord Eldamar has spoken is truth, but there is more; much more. The Horanaurk is a most foul, and loathsome breed. It is a singularly vexsome imposition to separate them from their malignant span. The Horanaurk possesses not a shred of mercy, and thus, you must show them none. For if you fall, you are lost. The Horanaurk will impose upon you, one, or both; of two things. T'is, as like, that you shall be carnally defiled even if you be gasping your last breath. Worse, they may strip out your long-bones to suck upon the marrow, no matter if you be dead or not. These vermin must not be gifted the slimmest whisper of compassion; for if they are, then it shall be your undoing. There has ever been such loathsomeness as I lay tell before you, in the manner by which these vermin have prosecuted their mayhems.'

The warrior maidens looked, each to the other, as Artanis lay the tell before them. This was an apprising that was not expected. They attended her counsel in stern embrace, as she laid forth such informations as Horanaurk armour weakness; parts of the Horanaurk where they should gift sword-blow; such woundings as the Horanaurk shrugged aside. At the end, the warrior maidens of Seuna sat no more, with the slenderest shadow of disdain in their eyes for these from out of the west. No longer prowled the thought that this warrior-maid might be no more than feckless quean, nor this sword-master Guardian was 'naught, but just one more male to be despised.

Here, they saw equality held in plain accord, betwixt the pair. And in this, they were beset by great confusion. For never in living memory; 'nor indeed, for generation upon generation before; had such equality and common accord betwixt female and male been known in the Realm of Seuna.

The War Council of Seuna spent now, a sturdy measure of time in passing in debate of tactics. Each Commander laid forth the favoured manner of her Company in prosecuting the joining of battle. From these diverse tactics, Eldamar wove into one, a strategy of engagement. This was no simple task; the gatherment in sum of the Warrior maidens of Seuna now stood beyond one hundred and four score thousand.

Here, there were arrayed some fifty-score thousand cavalry; forty-score thousand foot warriors, and the remain being skirmishers or auxiliaries. Then, there were the Avalquare; in number, beyond now, fifteen-score; as more had ridden in from being out on patrol, when the gathering beacon had been flared silver. Their Captains had joined the Council, and now sat, fully attentive to the strategy that Eldamar was laying forth.

As he spoke, Artanis made covert tug at the hem of his tunic. He gifted her glance, and saw she pointed to his sword-hilt with her eyes, in fashion, cloaked with wariness. He made as if to bend over the parchment whereon he was styling the strategy, and glanced at Eithelhwen's bepommelled crystal; carved, as like, a Star. In the depths of the crystal there flared a gentle, bright spark of light. He raised himself from his bending over the parchment, and gave a wry grin.

'Your pardon, Mistresses; I needs-must stretch these weary old legs. Pray continue the debate whilst I walk awhile.'

He began to wander, as if in muse, around the chamber; his hand resting indolently upon his sword-hilt. The maids were fully engaged in debate of tactics; they did not perceive him cast glance at the hilt as he passed behind each of them in his compass of the chamber. Artanis watched, as did Segartis; whilst he wandered the chamber. Segartis laid a curious, and uneasy gaze upon him, and made as if to speak. He laid covert finger to lip, and she swiftly held her own counsel. Something was afoot here, but what? She had not to wait a sturdy space in passing for the reveal.

As he passed one of the pair of lately arrived Avalquare Captains, the pommelled crystal made sudden, and blinding flare. In one fearsome-swift movement, Eithelhwen was to his hand and hacking down into the joining of her neck and shoulder. A dreadful shriek echoed the chamber, and black blood gouted and sprayed about, as the Captain slowly and stinkingly dwindled to a clinging mist that spread upon the floor and slowly faded.

Across the table; the other newcomer began to cast off shape and form. Then came the whistle of blade as Artanis clove the writhing form in twain. Another dreadful shriek rang the rafters as the shade burst into a surging billow of stinking mist that sank to the floor and vanished. Two softly-glowing orbs floated up, and passed out through the casement into the night. There came a soft sound from without… almost like a song upon the wind… Sathulinan.

To the shocked, and affrighted company, who stared wide-eyed at where the two had sat in their midst, Eldamar spoke,

'Here before you, is the truth of my tell. These two were Shadow-Wraiths, despatched in cloak to gather intelligences for the Forces of The Darkness. They were betrayed by my Sword of The Light, "Eitheltuil Eledhwen"… "Wellspring of Algethi Light". She forewarns of Darklings in lurk, by the flare of her pommel-stone.

I fear, two of your Avalquare Captains have embraced their doom, somewhere out in the night; and for that, I am truly sorry; for it is not an easy release when taken by a Shadow-Wraith. But, as we have seen, their Charas have flown homewards to the song of Sathulinan and they are at peace. Now, we needs-must lay this strategy by the heels with full assent. The Darklings are forewarned, and there is now, but thin span in passing; and none for the squander. We need muster our advance for the pale light of the morrow.'

The warrior maids of Seuna sat silent and unsettled by what had prevailed in this place. They had no knowing of Shadow-Wraiths, 'nor of other horrors of The Abyss. They now beheld this Lord Guardian of The Light and his warrior maid companion in another light. He knew of such things... she was consummately gifted in her sword craft. All would now attend his wise mentoring, and no murmur of dissent here to be found.

As an aside; Eldamar spoke of what had happened at the farmsteading of Luxtan. He asked that the Host be required to maintain a prudent watch for the two great swords of The Custodians of Asteth Tarsi; The Guardians of The Star of The East. It might be that they were still in the ashes of Luxtan, but, t'was like, as not, they had been looted by the Galdors. The swords' character was thus: They were imposing blades; each spanning close on three-cubits from pommel to scabbard drag. The moulding of the cross-guards held two flaring subordinate guards to either side of the root of the blade. The blades were ridged from cross-guard to pointing, being double-edged in their full length, which stood close to two, and one-half cubits.

Should they be seen, they should be regained from the barbarians; for they were as close to being Swords of The Light as was any blade ever likely to be. In the clutches of the barbarian Darklings, such power as they might hold would stand blighted and dangerous. The Commanders pledged that such instruction would be passed to the Host.

Segartis brought the Council to order. Was all laid in common assent? Was there more to be spoken on, or about this strategy? If there stood no more issue or debate, then the strategy was resolved. The Host would incurse the wastes of Sennragen on the morrow to engage the Host of the tyrant Berenvag. The Avalquare would ride the Great Forest of Cuthalion, beyond the ruined farmsteading of Luxtan, upon the old Military road. They would fall upon the two Horanaurk encampments to northerly-west, and lay them to waste.