Chapter Ten.

The Knights of the Eternal Watchtower.

As they came down onto the little valley that had been all mantled with pollen-bursting Golden Rod as Eldamar and Feawen Arcamen had ridden out that early summer's day, but now stood past its best as autumn crept down the valley; they spied once more, the little stream called Gelmirbeck murmuring as its water flowed and tumbled its bed of stones. It still ran sturdy, and had not plunged to ground, so... they must now be little more than eight leagues before Bradda. Here, they replenished water pouches with the pure, sweet water out of Gelmirbeck, and gave their mounts to drink.

As they sat upon a pair of stones, they spied a Merlin in the sky. It floated across the endless blue, drifting high above their heads. Eldamar looked to Artanis, and loosed once more, the scabbard strap of Eithelhwen. Again, her pommel stone gave no glimmer of Darkling warning. As he, and Artanis watched; the Merlin stood in hover... though Merlins 'most never stand thus in the sky, in manner as do hawks.

They heard it call; a shrill, brisk "Wek-Wek- Wek-Wek"… and then it dove towards them. Some fifty-cubits distant, it forewent its swooping dive, and with wings still arrowed back came on fast and low towards them.

Eldamar pushed Artanis behind himself and drew Eithelhwen. The Merlin came on… and then, just beyond sword reach…. suddenly shape-shifted, and there stood the Shadaiian; Jhastor, Shadow-watcher of Raventhorn; he, who had watched over them, that last night in the tumbledown on the borders of Astalan. He afforded them a thin, Shadaiian smile,

'My regret for affording you alarm, My Lord; The coming to your presence, whilst cloaked as Merlin cannot be prosecuted with subtle guile. It is not in the nature of this creature.'

Eldamar gave a heartsome sigh;

'Indeed, you speak true, Master Jhastor; but, what do you here? You should be far away towards Raventhorn by now. Is something amiss hereabouts?'

Jhastor afforded them the thin, Shadaiian smile, once more, saying;

'As we flew to homewards, we saw the dark smudges of Shadow-Wraiths in lurk and slink below us. My Lord Archernan bid me stand off from the flight and await your coming. I shall forwardly ride the skies as sentinel to your progress. The way is clear; there are none in lurk and prowl betwixt us and Bradda at this time.'

Eldamar gave grateful thanks to Jhastor for his diligence. But, as the Shadaiian made shape-shift into a Merlin, once again; Eldamar wondered; this reveal of the smile of good fortune; was this settled to meet by Chance... or by Providence? Might it be that the Circle of Amriath, in its turning, reached even to here… this distant Realm far beyond her borders? For, t'was certain-sure that the meeting of Jhastor, Shadow-watcher of Raventhorn; of all those that they might meet, was indeed, the most provident. Here, was the key to the safe prevailment of Artanis, and all that compassed about her well-being.

For once at Bradda, Eldamar could petition Jhastor to progress Malphaers as Merlin, even unto Rhom. There, he could pass message to Lokari to fly out a pair of gryphons to Bradda, and thus carry Artanis into the safety of Amriath. Starshadow and Artanis's Cordach could be brought down to Windlemoss by the Cabal, and passed over to those out of Shandalar. 'Aye, this was knitting together as like a well 'pothicked wound.

For now though, the need stood to ride for Bradda whilst the span of the after-zenith yet remained. It was a ride of eight-leagues or so; two, perhaps, three Sundial shadows in span. For there was no grasp of eager relish to be caught by nightfall without the brazier circle of Bradda… no grasp at all.

With the Merlin high in the sky above them, Eldamar and Artanis moved on up the little valley of Gelmirbeck. In less than the span of one-half of a Sundial-shadow, they came out onto the rolling heartlands of Arfeiniel spread out before them. Turning again into the west, there were now, a little above seven leagues to ride before they came into Bradda. The heartlands of Arfeiniel were soft and rolling; a green and pleasant patchwork of field and meadow, copse and spinney. The hedgerows were bursting crimson with rose-hips and purple with blackthorn berries. The stands of trees were just beginning to turn to their autumn gold.

This was such a place for a child to grow... a Golden Child. For here, she could go a'gathering of springtime posies. Here, she could drink in the wonders of the Dreaming of Elaiana... "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being." Here, she could play in the meadows with perhaps, a snow-white Stag-hound puppy at her feet. Here, she could embrace a childhood that lacked for naught… here; if it were safe. But it was not safe. Not as long as there was, but a whisper of peril from the prowl and slink of Shadow-Wraiths.

With these thoughts in his mind, it was then that Eldamar laid covenant with himself that, as soon as it stood sound in ploy, he would return to this place with the one who could lay this lurking dreadfulness by the heels. That one was Torbair of Aiuthal, most trusted of Algethi, and friend of Eldamar for far too great a span in passing for sturdy remembrance.

Torbair of Aiuthal... famed Goldsmith of Elisriendell, who was too; a Craftmaster of High Moon-Magick... One, of whom; t'was whispered in awe, by those he passed by: "He is Kurwa'Tur-selu En'Ithil'Algethi." Torbair was one of only three so known, in the whole of Amriath and the Western lands. It was to Torbair, that Eldamar would carry the dreadful trinket that now lay captive swaddled in his pannier... this baleful and dangersome thing; this "Haldrig en'Seregnir" Witching bracelet… for only Torbair would know how to geld it of its evil. But that was for another time. For now, he needs-must progress Artanis to the safe haven of Bradda, though, for how long it might remain thus, was for any fool's ponder. He glanced up into the endless blue skies; the Merlin stood to his sight, flashing and dashing… hither and thither… quartering the meadows and fields; on occasion making glide…. and then to the dashing flight once again. 'Aye, they could indeed do worse than this nimble Sentinel.

They rode one more pair of Sundial shadows, and then; upon a rise, some half of a league forwards, there came a parcel of riders to their sight. The Merlin made swift twist in its flying, and with wings arrowed back, dove at great speed. It overflew the riders, low and fast; then climbing again into the skies, circled warily. Artanis laughed;

'My Lord; t'is a ride of my Cabal sisters out of Bradda; we are safe at last!'

The Cabal maids greeted them as well-met, and rode them down to Bradda. Along the way, there was great store of sisterly chatter, and askance of tell of their adventures. For it was plain to see, by the faded, and torn leather garments of Artanis, that this had been no easy quest, Artanis told that she would lay all before her sisters when they were safely within the circle of Bradda.

There, at last… the brazier circle. As they rode within, Eldamar lay forth a great, heartsome sigh of relief. Artanis was now safe for the moment. But, what of their Sentinel? Where was Jhastor the Shadaiian? He cast gaze about; The Merlin was not within the settlement, nor was it aloft. The Merlin had alighted upon a great stone without the compass of the brazier circle. As they watched, Jhastor made shape-shift to his true countenance. Several of the Cabal Maids made swiftly to draw blade, but Eldamar gentled them, saying;

'Na, Na; this is Jhastor the Shadaiian; He has stood sentinel in the sky to us; even from the borders of Astalan, and I would call him friend.'

He walked to where Jhastor stood; saying he should enter in to greet the Cabal. Jhastor made reply;

'Na, My Lord; I cannot enter in, for this is a circle of enchantment within a greater circle of a most profound enchantment. Shadaiians are indeed, creatures of The Light; but The Light stands not so brightly about us. We are from out that shadowy place that lies somewhere, betwixt The Light and The Darkness. I know you hold us in the same regard as you would, say… an unguarded sword blade left careless, within reach of a youngling ...'aye, with great caution. 'An so, I shall not enter in, for I am ill at ease in this place, though I am content in your company.'

Eldamar gave wry smile;

'Aye, Master Jhastor, you have me; Such as you speak is true. Yet, here is a thing that I have never resolved in parchment read, 'nor ponder of thought. T'was ever imagined that in The Age of The Beginnings, your forebears were Shah'Algethi. How came you to this place of shadows?'

Jhastor was silent for a little while. Plain upon his countenance could be seen the dubiosity as he pondered the prudence of reveal of the Shadaiian precepts. He made study of Eldamar, and then so chose to make the Tell.

There was, he said; small remembrance of any of these things. All of the tell he would lay, was as written in The Great Tome of Khentu-Khai, which was held safe, and read in the late Autumn nights of Samhain in the shadowy dells of the Forest of Raventhorn Scar; so none might forget that, which had gone before.

In the Beginning of The Great Dream; Elaiana... "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being," brought to being, a peerlessly beautiful maiden. She was the first Dream-formed "Shah'Algethi" in the pristine landscape of Elaiana's Dream. The maiden was also called "Aure'Algethi;" Golden, or Sunrise Algethi; the firstmost of the Algethi-Clan who would be High-born and Noble… the purest of all. She was given the name: Shadaiia en'Carnelyr.

Elaiana dreamed her in her own image. Shadaiia was golden-haired, and her eyes were a perfect, forget-me-not blue. It was told that she held measure of some three, and one-half cubits, and her stature was exquisitely feminine. She possessed flawless Grace and Compassion. The Dreamlands of Elaiana were sweetened and blessed by her presence.

She was emplaced in one of the first Dream-formed Realms, which was to be known by name as "Khentu-Khai." Shadaiia en'Carnelyr was tasked to bring the truth and knowing of The Light to all creatures. This, she so did, even through the first of the Punitive wars, which occasioned the ongoing watchfulness that is now called by name: "The Eternal Watchtower." In this first conflict, she lost such kin as Elaiana had dreamed round about her... a father, and a mother.

Even in this loss, Shadaiia still held her Grace and Compassion. Many would-be suitors lusted for her, but she chose to bond with one whom she found pleasing. He was called by name: Elwe Ancalimon. She did not perceive that he possessed a darker countenance. He was a scoundrel and bully. She loved him, but he treated her vilely. Elwe Ancalimon beat her cruelly if she, but dared to be seen by him to look fleetingly at another; no matter, how innocent such gaze might be; and at length, she fled out of Khentu-Khai, into the bordering Realm of Melwasul.

She made her steading in the Forest of Earwen, and took up her task anew. For a while, all was well; but by now, The Dark Entity: "Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark" had manifested in the Dreaming of Elaiana. He was beset with venomous envy when he perceived Shadaiia en'Carnelyr, for she was the most perfect of all vessels that Elaiana had dreamed would one day hold the spirit of the first life to set foot upon this World; the Race of beings known as Algethi.

Elaiana had crafted this first vessel with thoughtfulness and care, and gave to Shadaiia en'Carnelyr extraordinary beauty. Shadaiia would come to be called "I'sil Mine"… "The Shining One."

Baelar elected that, though t'was not yet within his power to destroy her; he would, by covert insinuation, put her into harm's way. So it was; word came to Shadaiia that she need prosecute her task in the Eastern Realm of Angarato. What the word did not tell was, that second engagement of "The Eternal Watchtower," was about to burst forth in that place whereto she was bound away.

Within a span in passing, not lengthy, when laid against the course of the second engagement; the malice of Baelar prevailed. Shadaiia en'Carnelyr was arrow-struck at the battle of Telperien as she sought to bring a youngling from out of the path of peril. It was in this span of passing that her remaining kin; her sister and brother were lost. When her wound was mended, she remained in that place, bringing the truth and knowing of The Light to all.

Word had crept about concerning the Grace; the Compassion, and, 'aye.... the bravery of Shadaiia en'Carnelyr. The storytellers, minstrel poets, and common romancers were weaving their songs and tales of her across the lands. T'was thought that she now, was becoming too fair a prize, and so she was ordered back to her dwelling in the Forest of Earwen. Sad of heart, and beset with the imagine that she had failed in her task; she obeyed.

Yet, here now, there came a gentle and sweet diversion. Through the tales and songs; word of her had come to the ears of a Craftmaster of weapons in the far distant, Island Kingdom of Numenesse. He too, was poet and word-smith, and her tale lay soft upon his heart. So he elected to lay word to parchment, and craft a sweet, and gentle poesy of word in her honour.

When complete; the Craftmaster, who held name: Elrohir Linwelin, conveyed the poesy, in despatch, to Shadaiia en'Carnelyr; not knowing if t'would ever reach her hand. In time, it did so, and Shadaiia was beguiled by the sweet and gentle sentiment. The Great Tome of Khentu-Khai makes no tell of this first, gentle poesy, but there were those so written, as time progressed; which whispered of a sweet alliance of hearts in the words there scribed.

It is not told to what profundity of passion the despatches spanned. All that is known, was, that one autumn day, Elrohir Linwelin stood not in receipt of the usual sweet reply from Shadaiia. Many times he laid despatch; never came the reply. For close on a summer in passing, there came 'naught. Elrohir was at wit's end with worry and foreboding. He was fully smitten with Shadaiia; he would have cast away all that he knew and held dear, to be with her. Then, one day; as he had come close to losing hope, there came a reply.

His Shadaiia told that she had been in the far southern Realm of Lenwe Alcarin; there to seek the truth of the doom of he, whom she knew as her father. He was lost whilst upon some covert Military quest, though t'was not for the knowing if this loss was by mishap, or by design. In her pursuance of truth in this matter, she was forewarned by some Seer that intelligencers of The Darkness were stalking her, albeit at distance. She elected to remove herself when the truth was garnered; but… not to her dwelling in the Forest of Earwen. She would pass over into her homeland of Khentu-Khai, and seek fresh dwellings there.

She knew that Elwe Ancalimon, since disunited in bond to her by the Law-givers for his cruelty, no longer dwelt in the Realm. There, she might cloak her presence in midst of the commonage. At length, she came to a gentle valley flanked about by pine woods. Here, she found a suitable dwelling for her purpose. This place was, by name: Morwen Surion in the Hundreds of Aldarion.

Now, thinking herself secure, she made what was to be a fatal blunder. In yearn of some gentleness, she sent word to the despatch station in seek of such sweet messages as might lie waiting for her from Elrohir Linwelin; for though they had not met, she knew in her heart that she now truly loved this gentle poet.

Alas, such messages were not all that lay in wait for her there. The benign old despatch scrivener who was known to all, by name of Huor Lissesil was, in truth; a dreadful Wraith; there emplaced in cloak by The Dark Entity: Baelar; and biding his time for just such a reveal.

Now in embrace of the knowing of where she dwelt; the Wraith came to her in the night whilst she slept; and stealthily insinuated itself deep into her body. There, it began to slowly and silently devour her from within. This grievous Wraith clutched her in like grip, as would the dreadful Crab Sickness.

Soon enough, Shadaiia en'Carnelyr began to ail. Knowing there was something amiss, she sought out learned physicians who 'pothicked her affliction with potions of yew, mistletoe and periwinkle; for they adjudged that it was indeed, the Crab Sickness. Whilst she languished under the cudgel of these enfeebling potions; Shadaiia sent despatch to Elrohir Linwelin, telling of her love for him, and laying out all that had come to passing. She did not though, tell of the sum of her affliction. She pledged to despatch him again within a slender span of passing. That was the last that he heard from his Shadaiia. He wrote many despatches, but there was no reply. Yet, such was his love… he held hope that one day, they would touch again.

Jhastor gave a sad, thin smile;

'There is no more to tell, My Lord; for here, The Great Tome of Khentu-Khai moves on to other things. There is no tell laid as to whether she prevailed or succumbed. T'is to be hoped… we each hold a gentle fancy that Shadaiia en'Carnelyr and her poet, Elrohir Linwelin did somehow, find each other in the end. For it might truly be said, this would have been a Love Affair to spin the very stars.'

His countenance became sombre. He spoke again;

'When the tale was told at the first; the allies and pupils of Shadaiia en'Carnelyr swore that all Wraiths were now and forever, forfeit. They would, each and all; drown in their own stinking black gore. A Partisan Clan was raised, and took name in honour of Shadaiia - "The Shining One." They named their Clan "Shadaiians," and went in search of the places where Wraiths were known to lurk. The Partisans made dwelling in the Forest of Raventhorn Scar, and as the ages passed, they became Master Wraith-Hunters. To aid them in their task, Elaiana... "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being," made them gift of a wondrous deceit. They were granted the Art of shape-shifting; and so it has continued unto this day.'

Eldamar, in hearkening to the tell of Jhastor, concerning the tale of Shadaiia en'Carnelyr; thought now, that perhaps, he had misjudged these Shadaiians. He had seen the softness in Jhastor's great eyes as he laid the tell. T'was true that the Shadaiians embraced, to all intent and purpose; a cold, and unforgiving demeanour. Yet, Eldamar held fancy that this was in truth, an intrigue to mask the gentleness of humour that all Shah'Algethi held by their very nature. There was a certain-sure way to evince the same. He would ask of the gentle poesies of which Jhastor made tell. If the Shadaiian had no knowing of the same, then Eldamar's first notion would stand proven; if the Shadaiian knew of these, then his subterfuge was unmasked. He spoke;

'Master Jhastor, I am curious of this tell of poesies. I had thought of them as not being weaved in the Age of The Beginnings. Can you perhaps, recite a little of one?'

Jhastor gave again, the thin smile.

'I know your stance in this My Lord; you seek to cozen me into a reveal of the true nature of The Shadaiian Wraith-Hunter. I cannot declaim, for I know not of the tongue of this distant Island Kingdom of Numenesse; but I carry this, as a talisman of all that is sweet and fair.'

He drew from his tunic a parchment, which he held to Eldamar. Upon the parchment in soft, curled script was scribed a poesy. Eldamar made study. It was not Charybon Runic; t'was not Common Algethi. T'was some manner of Charybon, or close to the same. T'was hard to follow the elegant script, for it read not in the common manner of word usage… but, in issue, the poesy read thus...

"Shining One, where did you go? Do you still walk in Grace, sublime?

For you are still here in my heart; a whispered dream… a part of me.

The days have wandered aimlessly, since last we touched, in summertime;

You know you were "The One," although, you always held sweet mystery."

"Where are you now? Are you still there, beyond the endless, Western sea?

Or, do you walk in Angarato, on the blighted, burning sands?

For, you still wander in my dreams, which… it seems, were not meant to be

so close, and yet, so far away; my heart still held soft, in your hand."

"Are you still there? Do you still think of me, sometimes? For, it is true

that you are always somewhere in my thoughts; a whisper in the night.

Though, we may never share soft words again, I shall remember you;

You shone so very brightly in my heart; my Love… my True Delight."

"The perfect blueness of Forget-Me-Nots... the colour of your eyes,

smiling in my thoughts, a sweet imagine of what might have been.

Your Hair... the soft, and golden pale, of a fair, spring morn sunrise,

Hair that I can never touch... eyes that I shall never see

nor gaze into, with look of love; and see reflection of my Dreams

and hopes for us... such Dreams we wove; a promise of what we might be.

Like tears in falling rain... now lost; no sweetest ending, it would seem;

and this then, is my soft lament to what is but.... sweet memory."

Jhastor watched as Eldamar read the poesy. When he had accomplished the same, Jhastor spoke;

'T'is told that this was one of the last poesies that Elrohir Linwelin sent to his Love, Shadaiia en'Carnelyr; not knowing whether she would ever hold the same in her hand, or be caressed by his gentle words. See now, the Love betwixt them, My Lord. Was not the Numenessean Craftmaster of weapons, also a most accomplished Rhyme-master? His words clutch at the heart, and gift wetness to the eyes. Now, do you see why we shall ever prosecute these Wraiths to their dooming? For they alone, denied Shadaiia en'Carnelyr such an exquisite Love.'

Eldamar gave back the parchment to Jhastor. With slender smile, beset with sadness, he spoke;

'Aye, Master Jhastor; that were indeed a tragic tale, and a comely poesy. It needs-must be set to harp, and sung about the watch fires as a soft lament for all star-crossed lovers, and for things that might have been. T'is to be hoped The High Goddess Elaiana enswathed them about in Her gentle Dreaming so they might be as one; perhaps, in some other time... in some other place. And, in this thing, you are revealed. You yet, have something of the gentle Shah'Algethi in your heart; though you would not have us think it so. Now, it appears plain; you Shadaiians stand closer to The Oneness of The Light than you would have us fancy.'

Jhastor took back the parchment, and with reverence, folded it within his tunic. He gave a slim, wry smile;

'You have me, My Lord, t'is true. But, I would not have you lay this reveal to common view. The Shadaiians are loathed and feared by these shades; for they know their doom is assured when we bring them to bay. Any whisper of this, and we are beset by a most singular imposition. Should this come to their hearing; they shall imagine us something less than merciless, and such imagine would not stand us to our advantage.'

Eldamar spoke;

'Master Jhastor; take now, my bond of word that 'naught of this discourse shall stand revealed. But, there is one more thing I would ask of you. As you progress into the west in return to Raventhorn; 'an it be your humour, would you stand down to Rhom and lay askance of the Lord Lokari to fly out a pair of gryphons to this place? Mistress Artanis is not safe here, even within the circle of braziers, and I would have her in the west where we might girdle her about with the sternest of protection.'

Jhastor nodded;

'It shall be done, My Lord. I shall now take victuals, and fly out forthwith. With a fair wind, cloaked as Merlin; I shall strike Rhom, a little beyond zenith on the morrow.'

One of the Cabal maids brought forth food and drink for Jhastor. He took of the same, but yet remained without the circle. A little later, he raised hand in thanks and farewell, and before their eyes, shape-shifted once more into a Merlin. Taking wing, he flew low and fast into the west, and within a slender span in passing, was 'naught, but a swiftly moving smudge in the western skies.

In Rhom, a little before the touch of the eleventh Sundial shadow of the morning; a sentry spied a fast moving speck coming in from out of the east. He called out his Watch Captain, and together, they watched as the speck grew to their view. They saw that it was a Merlin that most swiftly came on, and overflew the curtain wall of Rhom, then turned, as only a Merlin can turn. With wings and tail feathers spread wide, it stood down upon the bratticing of the Eastern wall. Then… before their eyes, it made shape-shift, and there… stood a Shadaiian Wraith Hunter. Who stood before them, mayhap, a little bereft of breath, yet not enough to confound his call for Lokari, who came swiftly to the wall.

Jhastor lay the tell in full sum, of what had come to passing in the east, and of the elicitation of Eldamar. Lokari hearkened, stern of countenance; then, ordering the Watch Captain to furnish full hospitality and favour to their Shadaiian Sword-brother; he hastened from the wall, calling loud for his steed to be saddled immediate. Sharp in the morning sunlight came the clatter of iron-shod hoof upon cobbles as he swung out of the Rhom Muster yard, bound away at stern gallop towards The Delvlings and Calverstock.

A little beyond the creep of one Sundial-shadow, the watchers on the walls of Rhom espied a single gryphon rising above the tree line of the Delvlings into the soft blue of the early autumn skies. As it rose above Calverstock, it turned not towards them as it would, were it flying out to the east. It turned away, and flew out to the north.

As he had ridden for Calverstock, Lokari had pondered the tell of the Shadaiian. The gryphons were peerless slaughterers of Darklings, but the perils here, were Shadow-Wraiths. T'was, as like, as not, that talon and beak would not lay a ruinous imposition upon these black, nebulous creatures. It would need a ruthlessness that the gryphon could not impose to effect disrelish of purpose upon such Wraiths embracing notion of assail, as might be abroad… such Wraiths as might be attending in malevolent vigil, the passing of Eldamar and Artanis into the west. Mindful of this; Lokari turned the gryphon northwards, towards the Dragon Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd.

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In Bradda; Eldamar and Artanis embraced a welcome repose from their fraught, and stressful egress from out of Astalan. Here… for the present, they were safe; here… they could temper their watchfulness. Artanis's Cabal sisters bustled and fussed her. Their sharp Algethi instinct, embellished by sister-bonded, feminine guile, told… as plain as parchment-writ word, of her blithesome standing. And she was not alone; there were some nine, or ten of the Cabal maids in receipt of gently swelling bellies. Beriana, the Mage of Eredun had spoken true. The needful custody within the circle of Bradda those twelve moons in passing, whilst The Riders of Doom prowled without the circle of braziers... and the sisterly connivance of Feawen Arcamen, Keeper of The Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel, had indeed, laid secure the constancy of the Cabal of Bradda.

Artanis was communing with Elanor; she… who was tasked to stand as Mistress of Cabal in Artanis's stead. Elanor told that there were two more Cabal maids who were once with child. Alas, they had not heeded their sisters' concern and had galloped their mounts in manner temerarious, as they had always done. Both of these reckless maids; Taranis and Earane, had embraced Childing-founder. When they had made mend; then, both of the maids, distraught at their foolishness, had ridden away, saying they would scour the Realm for males to redress their rashness of demeanour so displayed whilst they were with child. Elanor, in gentle wince of sturdy kick in her swelling belly, told that they were gone now some twenty moons in passing, and concern stood great for their well-being. As Artanis pondered riding out her sisters who were not with child, in weighing with the chance meeting of prowling Shadow-Wraiths; suddenly… a great shadow swept across the casement. Artanis cast swift glance without. The braziers were not flaming… they ran to the portal and looked out.

A beautiful, silvery dragon was climbing away into the sky; its wings shining in the sunlight as it turned. And there!... out to the west; six more, skeined, as like, wild geese on the wing; coming on in sturdy flight. The Cabal maids ran for their swords… Eldamar stood watching; then he slapped his hand to thigh and laughed. The maids stared at him. He cried;

'Have no fear; this is our ride into the west… Lokari has bettered my best hope!'

Five of the dragons overflew the settlement. The sixth; a mighty Green dragon… a true "Calen'Loki," stood down from its flight and came to ground with a settlement, fair. Lokari leapt down from its great, saddled back, and walked towards Eldamar; his countenance beset with a sturdy smile. Khanis; Brood-Sire of the Eyrie of dragons at Storien-Rhudd, made elegant nod to Eldamar, and spoke in his Archaic Charybon Runic tongue…

'I bid thee greetings Eldamar, Lord Guardian of The Light. Thy Dragon Lord Lokari has lain askance that we raise ye, and thy maid companion in decamp from this place. I have bound my most peerless younglings to this endeavour. Ye shall embrace your homeland full-safe in our charge.'

Eldamar stepped to the mighty Calen'Loki and returned the greeting. The Cabal maids stood open-mouthed at this spectacle. They knew full well, that Eldamar was Lord Guardian, but never in their wildest night reveries had they held shred of imagine that he could commune with such creatures as this. Khanis was speaking again;

'As we progressed down, we laid off flight at Shandalar. As ye perceive; the Dragon Lord elicited a pair of saddles and fitments for your ease of comfort as we ride the skies to westerly. Ye shall ride with me, and thy maid companion shall ride with Cheran.'

He made point to the Aira'Loki; the lithe copper-hued dragon who stood a little apart from him. Turning to Cheran, Khanis spoke in word, austere…

'Cheran; Ye shall ride the skies in manner of singular prudence. Ye bear a precious burden, for I perceive The Lord Guardian's maid companion is in brood. There shall be no variance of my wont in this matter. Do ye grasp the fullness of this command?'

The Aira'Loki bowed his head. He made respond;

'It shall be so, Master; the maid companion shall be secure in my charge.'

As he spoke, the beautiful, silvery dragon overflew the settlement again. It was Tahkaiia, The Silver One; the dreaded Predator-Wanderer of Storien-Rhudd. She flew with the other four dragons; two Mal'Lokis… Golden dragons; and two Carad'Lokis… Red dragons; who trailed her close; soaring and turning, as did she. Khanis spoke again;

'The Silver One brings her throng as sentinels. They are youngling Predator-Wanderers, and she is their mentor. I made propose that she left them at Storien-Rhudd, for they are perverse and unruly.'

Then, he gifted as near to a shrug, as a Loki might affect; and ruefully, said…

'Though I pondered to forbid their foray; I know that had I imposed the same, she would have defied me, and brought them; for she is most headstrong… this Celeb'Loki; as well ye know, old friend.'

Eldamar laughed, and patted the great neck of Khanis;

'Aye; as well I know, Old friend.'

Lokari came forward to Eldamar. He grinned;

'This then, would meet your require, My Lord?'

Eldamar laughed again,

'Lokari of Elisriendell, you never cease to gift me amaze; I had hoped for a brace; mayhap, three gryphons out of Calverstock and you apportion me a half-squadron of Lokis.'

Lokari gave wry grin, saying;

'You know me, My Lord; there is slender sum of purpose in batting your foe about the face with open hand, when the means are manifest to smite him betwixt the eyes with a mailed fist. But, enough of this; t'is time for you to ride to homewards. I shall attend here until Tahkaiia makes return, then I shall bring Starshadow into the west, by way of Ling.'

Eldamar regarded Lokari with a cautionary stare;

'If this be your intent, then you had best look to your sturdiness of frame; for t'is, as like, that you shall be beset by these maids imposing hard demand upon the full sum of your store of passion. Heed me well, Lokari, for it is certain-sure that they shall come to pillage you in the night.'

Lokari gave regard to Eldamar for a little while; a slow smile beset his countenance, and he raised an eyebrow, crooked with wryness. He laughed;

'Be not a'feared, My Lord, for I shall strive to prevail with honour, in this most disrelishing of impositions!'

Eldamar regarded him with a gaze that might have been sadness, or again, might have been pity, and shook his head.

'Well then, youngling; be it upon your own head; I shall say no more.'

Mindful of consequence, he sought out Elanor. Taking her aside, he spoke softly;

'You would be well advised to apprise such maids who have a mind to prosecute their passions with Lokari that they have, but two moons at best to progress their desires. For then, Tahkaiia, The Silver One shall return to stand sentinel in the sky as he rides for Ling. She holds shine for Lokari, and is beset with a jealous demeanour... even as much as some Algethi maiden spurned. Such maids resolved to seek his company would be wise-counselled to forsake the same, well before The Silver One flies in from out of the west.

This is no jest; for if she should gather notion that she perceives him standing in sate of carnal dalliance, or worse… discovers him yet, aboard one of your sisters; t'is, as like, that she will lay this settlement to waste in jealous spite. Forgive me for laying this forewarn before you in so crass a manner, but, she is that most feared of Lokis... a Predator Wanderer. She is merciless; and I have seen her when she embraces a malicious humour. In this, she is to be dread-feared, for she is consummately skilled in her Art.'

Elanor hearkened to Eldamar, saying she would counsel her sisters in stern regard of Eldamar's concern of their demeanour in this matter. Then, with thanks and farewells given, and Eldamar and Artanis mounted, and settled in saddle; the Lokis spread forth wing and lifted into the sky. Turning in saddle, Eldamar gazed back into Bradda. Lokari stood in the common ground; his hand raised in farewell, and already; the maids were making their approaches in manner the same, as moths are drawn to a candle-flame.

As they soared higher into the soft blue of the skies, and the land beneath grew diminishing smaller.... There! Tahkaiia; sweeping in, low and fast from the north; her throng in trail of her progress. She lifted, and passed beneath them, turning to westwards with the pair of Mal'Lokis in close attendance. The two Carad'Lokis rose to take close station, one to the left-most hand, and one to the right-most hand of Khanis and Cheran, who flew side by side; bearing Eldamar and Artanis.

Tahkaiia took station a little below, and some sixty cubits forward of the flight, whilst the two Mal'Lokis digressed to left and to right; one crossing the path of the other, and thence making the return to right and to left, crossing yet again. Then, they prosecuted the same sweeping device in recur. In this, could be seen that there would be no part of the land beneath that would not be overseen, 'nor would there be any quarter of the sky that would be, by chance, held in disregard for more than a slender span of time in passing. Tahkaiia had mentored her charges well.

For the passing of three Sundial-shadows, they flew into the west. Below them, Arfeiniel slipped away, bounded to their left-most hand by the stride of the Hills of Tillethmhor. Eldamar was ever beguiled in fancy, by riding the skies. Though he had ridden out the gryphons many times, it was always the same. Artanis too, held great excitement. Her eyes shone as she felt the wind streaming her hair. Below them, Eldamar had perceived the places standing in remembrance from the earlier progress through this land.

There!... the Bridge of Herlin, where they had been pursued by The Riders of Doom; and there... away to northerly-east; the ominous Pass of Hestrus, which crouched, mist-bewreathed and shadowy. Eldamar made brood upon this curiosity. It was a fair day; why then, was the Pass so cloaked? Might it indeed be that the supposed Portal to The Abyss might lie somewhere therein? This notion needs must be prospected in sturdy accord, in due course. He and Torbair would return here... and then, they would see.

As he pondered upon this; to his view came the copse of ancient Wychwithy trees, wherein lay the bothy of Ainariel Fefalas, Revered Mother of the Wiccen Rede of Arfeiniel. His thoughts crept back to the night spent there, and all that had followed in consequence thereof. As they progressed into the west; Eldamar knew that soon, they would overfly the soft, green valley wherein lay the cool, crystal pool beset by shading willows, where Feawen Arcamen had prosecuted that, which she called her "Covenant of Opportunity." There... to his left-most hand; the little valley crept below them.

Had he the freedom of choose; t'was as like, he would not have returned this way; for the sight of the little valley brought forth a sadness of remembrance, and he wondered what might have been, had Feawen not embraced a fate so undeserved. Artanis had perceived his sad demeanour. She spoke to him; her voice was soft with concern…

'You grieve for Feawen?... Heed not those plaintive notes your heart would pluck upon the harp strings of such sad lament as would plain therein. For She and her babe are not lost forever. They shall not wander the Dying Realms, by the singular virtue of your standing off the Grey Rider at that place where she embraced the passing of her span. For no reason other than this, they sleep safe in Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island.'

Eldamar sighed;

'That may well be the truth, but… how know you of this place? I have not lain tell of it, for it is a soft, unspoken reminisce betwixt myself and my embrace of her in my memories.'

Artanis bestowed a gentle smile upon him. As he looked to her, his Amethyst eyes were perhaps, a little brighter…perhaps, a little more shining. Then… she laid soft, her sisterly reveal;

'She spoke to me of you... and of this place, as we lay in Bradda, those first days when the braziers flared. For she had tumbled into Love with you, My Lord. I had never seen her so serene and blithesome as she was, those days when you broke your progress of quest at our hearths.'

Eldamar said nothing, and so, she did not pursue this issue. She did though, perceive his furtive brush of hand to cheek… as if some fly or speck of wind-blown dust had come into his eye… but, there were no flies 'nor dust abroad at such a reach beyond the outspread green of the border meadows of Arfeiniel. As she soft-cloaked a covert, and tender smile at his pretence; suddenly…Tahkaiia made hurried rise into the sky; as did her two minion Mor'Lokis. Khanis and Cheran rose without warning, in manner the same; bestowing something more than trifling alarm to Eldamar and Artanis.

As the Lokis settled into composure of flight once again; Khanis turned head and spoke;

'It stands needful to plead thy pardon for gifting thee immoderate dismay by our soar. Here, there be a binding power thrown all about this place that may not be discerned by gaze. We knew it were hereabouts; for we ran up 'gainst the same as we flew in from the west. T'is most singularly cunning, for it may not be perceived, and only sensed.'

Artanis answered;

'The Enchanted Girdle; it can be no other. My Lord, we are out of Arfeiniel!'

Eldamar made reply;

'Soon enough then, we shall gaze down upon Windlemoss Vale. Beyond there, t'is but twenty leagues down to Ling. At such pace as we embrace, we shall strike Rhom 'ere the sun sinks into the west, and there… you shall be safe.'

He apprised Khanis that they should now turn to southerly-west. Khanis laid forth a signal in manner of shrill, clear note, and Tahkaiia couched wing and prosecuted an elegant curvation towards where the sun now stood; her two minion Mor'Lokis holding station as before. Khanis laid forth a further signal in manner of note that stood not so shrill, and all lifted higher into the skies. Tahkaiia and the Mor'Lokis now drifted above as they prosecuted the same sweeping device in recur, as they had for the sum of the progress. Soon enough; to their sight, the Windlemoss Vale and the tumbled remains of the Algethi fort of Windlemoss Crag appeared below them. Beyond, rose the lower reaches of the Shandalar Ice Mountains, and distantly, the thin, shadowy line tracing the reaches of The Heights of Rhyddu.

Within the passing of one Sundial-shadow, they came down to the Throat of Ling. There!... the old quarry of Senghenn where Eldamar's granddaughter, Cirion; Ice Queen of Shandalar had invoked the Dread Shamel of Lorienlief, and brought down the Doom of The High Goddess Elaiana... "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being" upon the heads of the verminous Horde of the Mordbrood of Valdarthost.

A little further, and see! They were raising again, the High Watchtower of Ling. This time, it would stand as a great Redoubt; with lofty walls that spanned the Throat of Ling from cliff-face to cliff-face. There would be no future incurse into Amriath by this passage that did not levy the sternest consequence. As they skirted the High Pass of Ling, Eldamar gazed hard down to the Khallis Redoubt. The Great Beacon of Lamentation was doused. So; Khallis had at last, laid all of her fallen to rest in the Well of Gatherment beneath the Pavilion of Silence... their supposed pathway to Seithynnor.

Seithynnor; the Afterlife of the Thuvian Heroes; where they sat in Halls with their Forebears, and feasted forever, on red meat, and Khalmead, and strong beer; all boasting their prowess at war would indeed be a riotous place to be, if the Runes spoke true. He smiled; Filar, the Buhrodar Clan Chief; his old Swordbrother in Arms, together with his Kyla, would indeed be beset with great relish at this state of affairs.

Now, Eldamar advised Khanis to turn again. The wastelands of Khallis lay before them, and the distant rise of the furthest reaches of The Heights of Rhyddu stood to their sight. Soon enough, they would find the first of the great chain of Tristan's watchtowers thrusting into the skies. Khanis laid forth yet one more calling signal, and Tahkaiia turned into the south.

Now, it was a little above thirty leagues down to Rhom. Such a gallop on horseback would squander four Sundial-shadows and more, in passing. The Lokis would accomplish the same within one. See there, below… the cairn of Donella; the Rowan tree which had grown from the spindle laid into her heart, casting a protective shadow over her cairn.

Flying onwards; the desolation of yellow and ochre; of brown and of grey… the great, silent span of hollows and ash piles; mounds of ancient Mining spoil, and great heaps of rusting slag from the furnaces of Khallis slowly yielded to the sparse scrubbings. A little further, and the scrubbings yielded to green. Lorenfalu! They had broached the northern border of Lorenfalu. And there! A league forwards… The City of Rhom!

As the sun gently sank in the west, casting shadows of crimson and gold upon the walls, all buttressed round; then, echoing over the darkening plains besetting fair Rhom came the welcoming call of a watchtower trumpet; for they had been spied by the sentries as they stood in from the north.

Tristan received Eldamar and Artanis in the Great Chamber of the Palace of Rhom. Eldamar had, but to gaze upon the countenance of Tristan to see there was something amiss... singularly amiss. The ill-cloaked shadow of despair prowled the chamber all about. Tristan spoke;

'My Lord Father; be seated, for I must encumber you with the most dreadful of tidings.'

As if, the Old Woman at the settlement of The People of The Hollow Hills were standing at his shoulder, whispering in his ear; he remembered the shiver of sorts that had embraced him that tells that a grey goose has just flown above your grave. The Old Woman had spoken of mothers and bondings. He recalled her words concerning The Golden Child;

"She shall come to your Halls before she is woman grown, with her mother, who will stand with you in bond."

And Eldamar knew; as if the dreadful words had even now, fallen from the lips of Tristan... though he had not yet spoken them... Eldamar knew.

He spoke; his countenance grim; his thoughts enfettered in icy composure...

'Tell me now; what has befallen Arlanna? For it is my presentiment that she has journeyed to Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island, whilst I have been gone. I would know how this thing has come to passing. So now you shall tell me all, my Son.'

With tears in his eyes, Tristan; Master of War, Guardian of The Light; and Lord Steward of Lorenfalu; sat, as would a forlorn youngling before his father, and told of the doom of his stepmother. He told of the furtive attack of the Shadow-Wraiths; he told of the deadly assault upon Arlanna, and the firing about her, of the Halls of Eldamar.

He told of Gwythlyn's affray and the destruction of the recreant shades; of her brave reclaim of Arlanna from the flames. He told of her galloping the night in reckless abandon over the evil and precarious road through the deep greening Forests of Elisriendell to the hearth of Torbair of Aiuthal, and of her return with him.

Eldamar listened. He said naught, but his countenance was stern-set, and his Amethyst-violet eyes were cold. Tristan told of Torbair's invocation of The Enchantment of Regress… The "Entul-Nolatari" and of how it had prevailed. How the Charas of Arlanna and her child had returned to her body. He told of their bringing her to Rhom, and how all had seemed well. Eldamar held up his hand in motion for Tristan to pause the tell. He spoke, his voice flat, and icily soft;

'And what of the child? Did it prevail?'

Tristan replied,

'Aye My Lord; a son... a fine, and sturdy son.'

Eldamar spoke again;

'And what befell Arlanna?'

With great sadness, Tristan told that four moons beyond her birthing time, they had entered her chamber one morning and found her cold in her bed. Cuchulain, Tristan's own Churgeon was swiftly summoned, and told that t'would seem her heart had succumbed sometime in the small time of the night. T'was as like, that this was the levy due to her Destiny which Torbair had held at bay for a little while; for she had been cruelly stabbed into her back, up betwixt her ribs… piercing through her heart with the dreadful, black Karuk dagger, that calamitous, distant night.

They had known that sooner or later, the Karuk dagger must claim its victim, no matter how sturdy an enchantment they might elect to weave about her. So, they had said nothing to Arlanna of this thing, and she had embraced a blithesome and serene span of carry. Torbair had winnowed Elisriendell for a wet-nurse, so the infant might prevail; and in this, he was a success. The Wet-nurse was by name; Rodwen. She had endured childing-founder, and now suckled the infant as if he were her own.

Eldamar rose from his chair. He held a countenance such as had not been seen before, and, as like; they would not wish to see again. He spoke; and his voice gave them shiver. No more, was it quiet and placid, like some deep, and tranquil mere; composed and ever kindly. Now, his tone was hard and implacable... the words cold... as if wrought from Leissor. He spoke;

'Now, The Darkness has re-awakened The Old Magick, and it shall be the dooming of them all. I would see my son, 'an you would take me to him. Then I would see where you have laid Arlanna.'

As he left the Chamber, he spoke once again.

'There are none here to be held to account of this thing, save myself. For I should have known The Darkness would come a'prowling whilst I was away. Where is Gwythlyn? For I would assure her of this, myself.'

Tristan replied that she had been recalled to Shandalar, but was besetting herself with guilt for leaving Arlanna that night. All this time Artanis had kept her counsel whilst the tale was laid. She felt she should not lay any thought 'nor utterance, 'nor should she tell of her condition. Her heart wept for Eldamar. He did not merit such a homecoming. She elected that, if it were prudent, she would seek to comfort him later.

Eldamar made approach the chamber wherein he would find the wet-nurse and his son. As he made enter, he perceived before him the wet-nurse Rodwen. She was a pretty wench; blonde, blue-eyed, and holding perhaps, the span of one score, and three summers. She was sitting by the casement in the soft gold of the lowering sun, giving teat to the infant. Seeing him, she made fluster and covered herself. She cried…

'My Lord; forgive me for your discovery of me laid bare, thus. I had no notion that you would come here unheralded, 'else I would have stood before you in full grace.'

Her blush was as pink as a dog-rose in early spring. Eldamar gave a gentle smile.

'La, fret you not; t'is of no consequence. T'is a most natural thing that I see before me. And this would be my son?'

She drew back the swaddle and laid the infant to his view. A fine and sturdy boy child, with his mother's eyes… a deep emerald green. She smiled timidly, as she sat before this Lord Guardian of The Light.

'Aye, My Lord; a sturdy one. He holds in span, four full passings of the moon, and now, nips me with his sharp little teeth on occasion.'

Eldamar smiled again.

'And is he named?'

Rodwen looked to Eldamar, as if prudent of what she might say next, for fear of laying a saddening of remembrance upon him. But then, she gathered up her courage and spoke.

'My Lord, The Lady Arlanna named him within a Sundial shadow of his birthing. The name she gifted him is: Tharlan. The Lady Arlanna told that it was a name from her homeland of FionnMhor; and that it means, in the tongue of Yeranoor; "Master of The South." They tell me that she hoped you would find it pleasing.'

She gazed at him again with eyes that were soft with concern and worry. Eldamar held the infant in his arms. How he could see Arlanna in that wide emerald stare. Then, he gave his son back into the arms of Rodwen. He laid hand upon her shoulder and spoke.

'I am well pleased with the naming. His mother would have chosen that, which she thought would grace him to best advantage. Do not gaze at me with such trepidity, Mistress Rodwen; I can well see that neither he, 'nor I, could ask for more than he be held in your charge. And for this, I am beholden to you.'

The infant bestowed upon them a great kitten yawn, and then gave forth a lusty wail. Eldamar laughed.

'T'would seem he is in receipt of a sturdy pair of lungs, and also a sturdy desire to be put to teat again. If it is your wish, I shall excuse myself so as not to deny you your modesty.'

Rodwen gave a slim, shy smile;

'You may stay, My Lord; for he is your son.'

As she blushingly brought forth her breast and put the infant to teat, Eldamar gently asked of what brought her to this employ. She told that she had lost her own infant by childing-founder and perhaps, t'was as well. For she was alone. Her mother had flown her Charas some five summers since passed, and her father had ridden to war with Torbair of Aiuthal and the Militia from Elisriendell. He perished at the battle of Rhyddu; and since that time, she had lived alone at the steading of her father.

One night, she received a visitor... a miscreant Algethi from the settlement a little farther on down the broad way. This Algethi held lust for her, and he was deep in his cups… "Ro caele beika sereg," as it is called. He pillaged her, there and then, upon the stone flags of her steading floor, and when he was done, ran out into the night. At length, when she found that her Moon-flow had abandoned her; she went to seek him out and apprise him that she was with child.

This malfeasant Algethi, upon receipt of this tell, flew into a rage and assailed her with vicious relish. He screamed at her that she was "Shysi"… a Whore, for having not resisted his advances; then smote her down with his fists, and kicked her in her belly as she lay upon the floor of his steading. From this had come the childing-founder; and perhaps, t'was as well, for she held no great desire for an infant that had sprung from his loins. Later, Torbair had come in seek of a wet-nurse, and that was how she was here.

Eldamar had listened to this contemptible tale in silence. At last, he spoke.

'What name does this Algethi hold? For I have a mind to lay intelligence to Lord Laumil, Council Master of Elisriendell on this matter, for this is in full breach of the Algethi-Lore of Amriath.'

Rodwen stared at him, the fear bright in her eyes;

'Oh, My Lord… I beseech you, do not. For he will hunt me down 'ere I return to Elisriendell.'

Eldamar gentled her.

'Then you shall not return to Elisriendell, 'an that be your wont. I shall have need of you in Rhom as my son grows. I would ask you to remain and become his tutoress in the stead of his mother. I shall not press you to answer me 'till you have pondered the offer. Now... I must away.'

He turned and walked from the Chamber, leaving Rodwen wide-eyed in amaze, as little Tharlan greedily suckled at her breast.

Tristan had waited without the Chamber. Eldamar came forth from thereout. He softly closing the door, and spoke to his son.

'A fine and sturdy infant; and well tended. I would have you make cordial invite of Mistress Rodwen that she is welcome to remain in Rhom, 'an that be her humour. Now, tell me of my Halls. Was all lost?'

Tristan replied that the sum of the Halls were slighted complete, but the undercroft prevailed. Therein, they had reclaimed the great Camphor-wood chest that had been the sleeping place of the enchanted swords. T'was a little charred, but it had prevailed in the fire. They had broken the great lock, and therein lay the three volumes of The Tarsius of Yeranoor. There were some other things; a few manuscripts and the like, but that was the sum of retrieve.

Eldamar nodded;

'That is good. Now… Take me to where Arlanna sleeps. I would bid her my farewell.'

Tristan had called out his Ostle-master who attended them below in the great Muster yard of The Palace. He stood with two Rhola stallions and Tristan's sword; "Dagnorath." They made mount, and the Ostle-master made to hand Dagnorath up to Tristan. He waved her aside. There was no call to ride to the cairn of Arlanna in weapon. This could be seen as lack of reverence to her, and to his father.

They rode out of Rhom and turned for the Knoll of Rhyddu. As they rode, Tristan told that Arlanna had been reverently cairned in manner of Sword-maiden; with her head to the east, and her feet to the west. They had laid her sword upon her; the point betwixt her feet, with her hands folded upon the pommel. They had lain upon her brow, a garland of Moonflowers. She embraced the Great Sleep in a cairn raised with caring meticulousness, beside the great cairn where slept the fallen of the battle of Malphaers.

She slept on the shoulder of the Knoll of Rhyddu, where the morning sun first stroked the Kingdom of Lorenfalu. Eldamar nodded; all had been discharged in the manner laid forth in "The Scrolls of the Beginnings," called too, "The Great Dream of Creation." She would sleep safe.

As they rode, Tristan told of how Eldamar's slighted Halls were being raised to Stronghold standing, even as they spoke. The Lord Laumil, Council Master of Elisriendell, had pressed the full sum of the Stone-masters of Elisriendell to this task. Eldamar gave shrug; he knew not whether he would ever return to the Westerly Shining Lands. His humour stood disconsolate, for they now made approach the cairns. Tristan drew in rein; this was for his father, and none other. Eldamar rode on up the last handful of cubits and made dismount beside the little cairn of Arlanna.

The cairn was raised with great, and flawless crafting. This was no piling of stones. Each stone was hewn to embrace its touching kin. In some other place, this would be a cairn of sorts that one would envision as being the sleeping place of some Great Warlord; 'nay… even some person of The Blood Royal.

All about the feet of the little cairn there grew a soft mantle of delicate, white star-shaped flowers… "Elenrath," or "Star of the Evening." These were not a flower of Lorenfalu… Eldamar knew they grew only in Fionndell. These had been carried here to be planted. It took no stern set of the imagination to guess the truth of it… Gwythlyn. This bore tell of the hand of Gwythlyn. This was how she would have honoured her Sword-sister; for 'oft times Arlanna had declared in idle chatter, that the beautiful little "Elenrath" was her best-loved flower, and of how she held whim to walk amongst them in the soft of the morning.

Eldamar stood before the little cairn in silence for not a little sum of time in passing. Then, he sat upon the sward of the Knoll of Rhyddu with his back hard against the great cairn of the fallen, and the little cairn of Arlanna before him; and he cried. He could not tell if he cried for Arlanna, or if he cried for his losing her. Nor could he tell if he cried for his new son Tharlan, who would not know his mother as he grew.

But, in his despair; there, was planted a seed. A seed that would flourish, and uncloak Eldamar, Lord Guardian of The Light to his true standing.

For all of his life, Eldamar had forborne his Birth-right. He had chosen to defy The Darkness with guile and with sword. Not for him, the invocation of wily-spun magick; not for him, the tangled pathways of The Old Ways. But now; he chose to embrace what he had always been... Craftmaster of The Old High Magick. This was his birth-right Destiny, handed down by his father, The Lord Calamar, Hammer of Astalan, who held the same esteemed standing; but, as with Eldamar, had chosen not to employ the same.

Even now; Eldamar knew not that he was far beyond even this supposed rank; 'nor of the fearsome, and terrible power of The Light that was now at his command, if he so chose to embrace it.

He was, in truth… Master Magus of The Knights of the Eternal Watchtower; as had been The Lord Calamar, Hammer of Astalan. Of these Knights, there were, but two in remain; Eldamar, and Torbair of Aiuthal. Here then, were the two Craft-Masters of their appointed Arts; Eldamar… Lord Guardian of The Light, and too… "Tur'istar Yaara-Templa"… Craftmaster of The Old High Magick; and Torbair of Aiuthal… famed Goldsmith of Elisriendell, and too… "Kurwa'Tur-selu En'Ithil'Algethi"… Craftmaster of High Moon-Magick.

Now… by the invocation of one vengeful, and spiteful act, The Dreadful, Dark Entity: Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark," would bring down upon his own head the Nemesis of The Eternal Watchtower; which in time, would thrust The Darkness back into the Abyss; never for the returning.

Eldamar came down from the Knoll of Rhyddu to where Tristan awaited him. Tristan beheld the change in his father... a change that gave him cause for deep, and uneasy ponder. Eldamar had always held a demeanour of placidity; always, had he chosen the benevolent pathway. The Eldamar that stood before him now, held what could only be called an aspect of greatness that seemed to cling about him. Tristan had not felt this at any time before, and gave fret as to what had manifested this day, up on that lonely hilltop.

As they rode down to Rhom; Eldamar told Tristan of Artanis. He told of her support on his quest and of her condition. He told Tristan that he had resolved that he would remove her to the Shining Lands as soon as his Halls were secure. He would take with him, his son Tharlan, and too, the wet-nurse Rodwen; were Tharlan still on teat when the time came. Were he not; then Rodwen was free to remain in Rhom under the protection of Tristan. He told of the presage of The Old Woman of The Hollow Hills, concerning the infant that Artanis carried. Eldamar reined in, and holding Tristan with firm gaze, spoke;

'Hearken you well, Tristan, for I shall lay before you now what was spoken to me in the steading of The Little Dark People. It was spoken thus:

"She shall come to your Halls before she is woman grown, with her mother who will stand with you in bond. At the appointed time; The Golden Child and her brother shall ride out enclasped in the arms of She, you would call by name, Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being," and with the Mighty Sword "Runya en Numen," called too, "Citadel of The Eternal Truth," The Golden Child shall occasion the smiting down of The Darkness beyond all hope of the returning. Then, and only then, shall your land of Amriath be free forever of this creeping blight."

He looked to Tristan, who sat upon his horse, with a bewildered cast upon his face.

'There is more; much more, my Son; these were not the idle maunderings of some old hag who had chewed in glut upon some sacred mushrooms. In Astalan, Beriana… the Mage of Eredun spoke thus:

"This child shall be a beautiful daughter to be birthed upon the Eve of Lammas, one summer hence. You will name her Kathalyn, and she shall grow to become The Revered Mother in the stead of Ainariel Fefalas. She shall be embraced by the full Dominion of the Benison of The Wiccen Rede and the kinship of The Lord Guardian of The Light. Thus, shall she stand as both Wiccen Rede High Priestess, and Guardian of The Light. Kathalyn Seregon shall stand from her Sixteenth summer, as a Mighty Bastion of The Light in the Western Realms. Her destiny stands fully embraced in the Dreaming of Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being." Her pathway is forechosen, even now before she be conceived."

He looked again, to Tristan, who shook his head in manner that one makes effort to clear his thoughts on the morrow, in receipt of a night spent swilling Glow-fire.

He spoke again;

'So; there it is, all laid before you. This has not come to passing in consequence of some trifling dalliance. This was prevised as some part of The Oneness of The Light. As such, there shall be no cavil laid at the feet of Artanis in this matter. This is how it shall stand, and that is an end to it. Now; let us ride to The Palace, and bid her welcome into the protection of Rhom.'