Chapter Thirteen.

"The Viper that Stings in the Night."

Eldamar walked across the common ground of the Eyrie with Khanis as they talked of the diverse changes that all must now embrace. He asked of where the company of Storien-Rhudd might now go. There were no pastures up on this bleak mountain of Camas Mhor, and there would be need of the same. Lokis were meat-eaters, and now there would be need of pasture and meadow for cattle grazing. The tutorment of tongue and habit would not hold conundrum. Lokari would most certainly elect to remain here in company with Tahkaiia; and he could tutor the Counsellors of the High Council, who, in their turn, could tutor the remain. Most needful was the require of garb. After this; victuals would need to be found.

Here, it should be told that Algethi were, by their nature, resolved not to consume flesh. The Company of Storien-Rhudd had, since the Age of The Beginnings, consumed meat. As dragons, that was their natural character. It was not for Eldamar, 'nor any other, to decry this condition. So; needs-must, a place of pasture and meadow need be apportioned to them. There too, was the need for this place to embrace some stand of greening for the purpose of hunting game.

Eldamar considered the northern reaches of the Great Shandalar Plain would be suited. There were few steadings thereabouts; there too, was significant forest greening and he might prevail upon Cirion to relinquish a little of her Realm to Khanis.

She might too, be prevailed upon to release from her charge, a Master of War and a cache of arms into his keeping. For Khanis and his brothers need now to embrace diverse skills in the art of War… a thing he knew nothing of. There too, would be need of Stone-masters to raise dwellings, and Craft-masters of metal and wood. Eldamar would petition Elisriendell and Lorenfalu for these, and elicit aid from Thoris Barandor of Khallis.

At Rhom, his grandson Calamar's love… Eilanna, could be approached to petition her father for mounts. Her father bred horses for Calamar's cavalry, and they were the finest in all Amriath.

As they crossed the Eyrie, Eldamar asked of Khanis; how would the company wish to be called? If, in time, a Realm might be raised… how would Khanis wish it to be known? Khanis's reply was simple…. such a Realm, should it come to passing, would ever be known as Lokaria. His company had been petitioned on this matter. The common assent was that they would wish to be called Lokarians.

Lokarians... 'Aye that would serve well. There was though, small concern of the standing of the Companions of Storien-Rhudd. It was as like, that they would be seen to be "Minya-Algethi"... Common Algethi. This was far from the truthing of it. In The Age of The Beginnings, their forebears had been brought forth in the first Dreaming of The High Goddess Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being," and had become her guardians. As has been previous told in The Tarsius; this was the sum of reason for the spiteful levy of infliction of The Dread Imposition by The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark." Were this embraced as their true lineage, they were then, Shah'Algethi to the last one… the purest of all.

Here stood a sturdy conundrum. Shah'Algethi possessed eyes that were none other than blue, or grey of hue. On rare occasion, that hue might be green. The Companions of Storien-Rhudd were, to the last one, in receipt of eye hue that spanned from pale amber, to brown; some being such a darkness of brown as to be close to black. Not one was blue, or grey-eyed.

Eldamar pondered... They stood taller than common Algethi; they were sturdier of frame, and their females were voluptuous; being fulsomely curved in bosom and waist; belly and hip. The males were broad of chest and narrow of hip; sturdily muscled, high boned of cheek and brow. Indeed, they might be a different race; so unlike were they to Algethi. In this, Eldamar held a notion... a notion so sturdy in imagine as it might be but, the shadow of a dream.

All down the ages, it had been whispered and mused... in the main, by tellers of tales gathered about the hearth-fires of taverns, and… as like, deep in their cups; that there was indeed another Race of beings abroad in the world. None had ever been seen, but the whispers prevailed. T'was said, this Race were brethren of Algethi-kind; dreamed forth in the Great Dreaming... as were the Algethi. The word by which they were called, fell to the ear on occasion.... even Feawen Arcamen had made mention of the same. The name was bandied about, as if, in kin to another like word; in the manner of say… "Bannock and cheese," or "Water and wine." The manner of this speak was "of Algethi and Men."

Might it be that these companions were the descend of some other vessel that The High Goddess Elaiana… "She, who is the Wellspring of All Being," had dreamed in The Age of The Beginning? A Race whose blossom had not set; being blighted at the first, by the venomous spleen of The Dreadful, Dark Entity: Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark?" Were these, who stood before him now; the first, distant forebode of the passing of the Age of The Algethi? Would these "Men"… if indeed, that was what they truly were... carry forth the inheritance of The Oneness of The Light?

One thing was certain-sure; in the rigid Clan caste of Algethi, they would not be welcomed. They would be perceived as a dire threat to the sway of such Elitists as there were at Rhom, and in Elisriendell. They needs-must remain in, and about Shandalar. Here they would be accepted. Cirion would not permit any to gainsay such culture as they might embrace.

T'was certain-sure that Lokari would remain with Tahkaiia, and, as like, take bond with her. The issue of such bond, and perhaps, of like bonding betwixt others might well be the salvation of The Light. The Golden Child that Artanis carried was, but one… no matter what presage had been spoken concerning her Destiny. With her brother, they were, but two. They were both Algethi. They would have need of a sturdy company to stand against the might of The Darkness.

In this, there stood an issue of concern. Though, by their nature, Algethi were licentious; Algethi maidens' fecundity waxed and waned in manner the same, that the moon made wax and wane. An Algethi maiden might bear two younglings in two summers, and then, for no other reason than it were so; might then lie fallow for any sum of summers in passing. Their bodies were also in close harmony to the land and its rhythms, and unborn infants who were not in like harmony, were oft times, cast out from their mothers bodies in childing-founder.

Were this not enough; Algethi females held a measure of sway over their bodies, and to some lengths, could choose not to conceive. This was commonly manifested when there was danger of War. For, with such choice; then the females were free to take up arms with their bond-mates in common accord. This had ever been the nature of Algethi.

In this, might lie the cloaked shadow of imperilment for future days. Would there be enough infants birthed, who might take up blade with The Golden Child and her brother? It was to be hoped that this fresh Clan would embrace bountiful bondings in the times to come. Eldamar gazed about the Eyrie. He counted a score of males, and perhaps, two-score and ten females. So; it was as he had notioned, since he had entered into Storien-Rhudd for that first council. Such Lokis as might be encountered were more likely to be females.

He communed with Khanis as they progressed the common ground of the Eyrie, past the Great Stone Tablet that now lay scorched and riven asunder from the smiting of the great spear of golden lightning. Were there bondings to be embraced amongst the Companions of Storien-Rhudd? Khanis made reply; 'Aye, there were several who might bond, each to the other. It might take time, for this was not the way of the Loki. When a female Loki came into season, why, she took the first male Loki in approach to her. This notion of singular, and lasting bonding would have need of sturdy regard 'ere it was embraced in sum. What though, would be the fortunes of those females who might not be chosen?

Eldamar pondered. The nature of bonded pair settled a certain placidity upon any settlement. Perhaps, some maids from out of the Companions of Storien-Rhudd might look to the young warriors of Shandalar for bond-mates. As he mused, Lorimer came to join their communion. He spoke,

'My Lords, I am of a thought to fly out the despatch Merlin to Shandalar, to bring forth a Baggage train to garb and victual the companions. I too, shall elicit the Queen that she assents to us bringing forth the Companions to the Citadel. There are, but three- score and ten, and t'is certain that lodgings could be found for them for a while.'

Eldamar nodded to Khanis,

T'is a sound plan, for I would not relish any span of time spent in the Halls of The Keeper of The Dread Imposition. T'is cold and damp, and the hospitality of Shandalar is a much wiser choose now that you embrace your Dream-form of The Beginnings.'

All of this was, but ponder and muse for times as yet to come. Lorimer had flown out the despatch Merlin to Shandalar, and all to be done was to wait for the return of Lukas with such garb as he might have elicited from the steading folk in the surrounding countryside. The Companions still held no notion of immodesty in their nakedness. This held no conundrum, for why should they? For countless generations they had held form of Lokis... and Lokis wore no garb, save for their shining scales. Such garb as might be gathered by Lukas and his squadron would be more for the Companions' comfort, than for their modesty.

Eldamar and Torbair took council. Whilst they were so far to the north, would it not be sound plan to raise the Enchanted Girdle about this place? Upon receipt of the Baggage train from out of Shandalar, Torbair aspired to strike out to southerly-west and raise the Girdle all along the Yeranoor Woldings; skirting the Forest of Raventhorn Scar; and on across the northerly reach of the Singing Woods, into Elisriendell. If Artanis rode to the south with Lorimer and the Baggage Train, Eldamar could raise the easterly linking chain of "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting," all down along the foothills of the Blue Ice Mountains; thence, down to Ling.

Eldamar held certain misgivings concerning this prospect of Torbair. The Yeranoor Woldings were not a place to progress lacking stern escort; situate as it was, so close to the Shadowlands. It was known that Darklings were abroad, and the squadron could not be spared, for they must ride to protect the Baggage train. Torbair laughed;

'Think you that I have not pondered this in sum, old friend? Do not so swiftly put aside the guile of the Craftmaster of High Moon-Magick. It is not for nothing that I am called "Kurwa'Tur-selu En'Ithil' Algethi." If it is my fate to be discovered, then I shall raise a cloaking enchantment, and ride through such Darklings as if they were 'naught, but Moon-mist besetting the Meres of Lothluthil.'

As they spoke, there came the call of an Algethi horn, and Lukas and his squadron rode in, bearing great bundles about their saddles. Eldamar stood to greet him.

'How went the forage, Lukas? I see you are beset with sturdy bundles.'

Lukas smiled,

'There is enough and more, for your purpose, My Lord. The steading folk laid open their chests and wardrobes in good heart. None decried, for they have singular grasp of the debt owed to the Companions of Storien-Rhudd down the ages. The Loki Eyrie has ever been Bastion of the north against the incurse of diverse Darklings, and the folk were well content to settle their dues.'

The bundles were laid open to sight, and therein, were all manner of diverse garb... tunics and breeches; jerkins and gowns; boots, and all manner of trappings. The Companions were summoned to the choose, and all were apportioned garb to their standing. There was much mirthing laid as to how the garb would be worn... how it made fasten, and suchlike. Eldamar and Lorimer laid the wherefore to the males; Artanis laid the same to the females, and soon enough, all were clothed against the oncoming chill of the night. Needs must, shelter be taken in the Halls of The Keeper of The Dread Imposition, this night.

It was, as like, that the oncoming Baggage train would not manifest until the better part of the morning of the morrow might be fully spent. All then repaired to the silent, and deserted Halls of the Keeper to embrace the passing of the night in common accord.

On the morrow, the victuals of the Shandalar squadron were shared amongst all. T'was a thin repast, but no matter; sturdy sum of victuals would be brought in by the Baggage train. A little after the fall of the eighth Sundial shadow of the morning; there was seen a rise of dust out on the Great Plain of Shandalar, coming on towards Camas-Mhor. Even at distance, having regard of its prospect; it could be none other than the Baggage train from out of the Shandalar Citadel.

In this, it stood plain that, upon receipt of the despatch, Cirion had commanded assemblage immediate, of the same; and they had trundled the sum of the Great Plain by light of the moon and a few cold stars. As they drew closer, it was seen that they had journeyed without escort. This was a brave endeavour, for had they chanced to encounter Darklings... why then, a slow-moving Baggage train would have presented a singularly ripe prize for the plucking.

Within the passing of one half of a Sundial shadow, the Baggage train was close to Storien-Rhudd. It could be clearly perceived that Cirion had indeed, fulfilled the entreatment of the despatch. The Baggage train embraced in sum, ten and two wagons. The six in lead were piled high with victuals and butts of water. The remain were set across with sturdy planks for the sitting thereon of those who would journey therein to the south. The whole was led by Lorimer's Under-Captain... Teeve Lerion.

He had ridden the Baggage Train the length of the great Plain of Shandalar in the span of some nine Sundial shadow spans… albeit, in the night there was no sun to cast shadow, and thus; the measure of span might only be supposed… with naught in sum, but four troopers furnishing escort. Now, he sat upon his mount, all dusted and weary, and bid greetings to his Captain and The Lord Guardian of The Light.

Lorimer's troopers laid shoulder to the victual stores and water butts and conveyed the same into the Eyrie. All were broached and their sum of content apportioned to all. As the Under-Captain took of his ease, and drank deep to clear the dust of his ride from his throat, it was seen that one of the Companion maidens made convivial approach; sitting beside him and sharing of his water. She was a comely young maid, who as a Loki, had been known by name as Jielith. She had, in her Loki-form, held standing as carer-principal of the Ancient Mor-Loki who was the Keeper of The Dread Imposition.

She had held form of "Baru-Loki"…a Brown dragon, and now she was a tawny-maiden. Her skin was the pale hue of a fresh, young cob-nut; her hair was the hue of beech leaves in the autumn, and her almond-shaped eyes were the soft, golden-amber hue of heather beer. She stood a little above three and three-quarter cubits; being full-bosomed and lissom.

Eldamar smiled. Teeve Lerion was singleton; he had followed the way of the warrior since his youngling days, with small choose of dalliance along the way. Now here, could be seen the blossoming of something other than simple dalliance. Now here, might well be the first concord betwixt Shandalarian and Lokarian. Here, might be manifest the first hint of the resolve of the conundrum that he had embraced some small span in passing beforehand.

Within the space in passing of a pair of Sundial shadow-spans, and the Eyrie stripped of such artefacts and chattels as were deemed needful; all was done, and the Companions settled themselves in the wagons for the progress to the Citadel of Shandalar. The Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd was thus, abandoned and the Baggage train made rumble out onto the Shandalar plain. Artanis travelled in company with Lorimer, Lukas, and the squadron; whilst Eldamar and Torbair made preparations to raise the Enchanted Girdle to the east, and to the west. Watching the Baggage train passing into distant sight, Torbair turned to Eldamar, saying,

'Well, old friend; who then, shall it be, to seal the portal of this place?'

Eldamar made reply,

'You have a sturdy endeavour set upon yourself, so I shall raise this link in the chain.'

Standing betwixt the Portal stones, he stretched forth his arms and intoned the spellbinding of "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting." From each of his outstretched hands sprang a bursting of blinding, violet-white light. Each bursting writhed and flashed about the two Portal Stones, which glowed; a pale and icy blueness. Storien-Rhudd was secure. They bade to each, their farewells, and Eldamar turned Starshadow into the east, whilst Torbair turned his mount into the west, to ride the flank of Great Camas Mhor in seek of the next place to raise the Girdle of Enchantment. Eldamar rode out for the Carn of Gunrith.

The Carn of Gunrith was a great, stone mound guarding the throat of the old Breakspear passage into the northern reaches of the Blue Ice Mountains. The passage was long since closed by glacial creep, and The Carn of Gunrith was the weathered and broken, drumlin spoil of this creep.

Half of a Sundial shadow in passing and Eldamar stood before the Carn of Gunrith. The great piled boulders lay silent before him. As he turned towards Great Camas Mhor, he perceived the flicker and flash of violet-white light spearing across the flank of the mountain towards Storien-Rhudd. So; Torbair had raised the first link. It was, as like, that he had chosen the greater of the Weens of White Prestor as his goal.

The Weens of White Prestor were a clutch of underground passages up to eight cubits in lie, and covered over by large stone slabs. They were dug out, and stone lined in the Ancient of Days, but to what purpose was lost in the mists of forgetfulness. Some told that they were used as grain caches, or cattle shelters; perhaps, a defence for hunters. Some yet told they were used as places where folk could go into trance and contact the dead. In the Ancient of Days; before came the custom of cairning; t'was said that bodies were left upon hillsides so that animals might eat the remains - thus sending the spirit back to "Mother Earth;" and in these weens, then might the spirits be more easily reached.

Whatever was the truth of it; Torbair would lay the link there. His next goal would need to be the Menhir on the Barrow Weald of the Yeranoor Uplands. Then, it would be a sturdy ride to the Mark-Stone of the Forest of Raventhorn Scar. And here, on this ride, the peril would stand fat. There was paltry sum of concealment about these wild and open lands, should he be misfortunate enough to be espied by a covey of these marauding Chutaks. In the knowing this; Eldamar embraced the most sturdy hope that Torbair could indeed, raise a cloaking enchantment about himself... and, as he had laughingly said:

"Ride through such Darklings as if they were naught but Moon-mist besetting the Meres of Lothluthil."

But, as Torbair had said; he was Craftmaster of High Moon-Magick… "Kurwa'Tur-selu En'Ithil'Algethi," as it was whispered; and well able to fend off such as The Darkness might stand forth against him. Putting his concerns out of his thoughts, Eldamar stretched forth his arms and intoned the spellbinding.

The bursting of blinding, violet-white light from his right-most hand writhed and flashed about the Carn of Gunrith, which glowed; a pale and icy blueness; The bursting from his left-most hand raced across the upland plain of Camas Mhor, bound away for the Dexter Portal Stone of Storien-Rhudd. His next ride would take him all down the upland reaches of the Blue Ice Mountains of Shandalar.

Close to half distance betwixt the Carn of Gunrith and the Great Henge of Dromnmhor was situate, a curious stone. T'was kin to a Menhir, but stumpy in stern measure… a little less than three full cubits in standing. It was pierced through, in natural form, with a hole. When the wind blew from out of the east, off the Blue Ice peaks, the stone would lay forth an eerie howling. For this reason it was commonly called The Keening Stone. Many were the night travellers to whom it had gifted a fearful dread, when they hearkened to the doleful howl drifting across the darkened plain. Here, Eldamar would raise the next link in "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting." Beyond that, the next place would be the Bride-Stone in the Great Henge of Dromnmhor, where Cirion had embraced her Bonding Ritual close on three summers now since passed.

Having raised the Enchanted Girdle at The Keening Stone, Eldamar rode on to the south, towards the Great Henge of Dromnmhor. He would accomplish the same in the remain of the morning. There, he would rest, and take of victuals. He paused, a little to the north of the Henge, at the little Dromn beck which tinkled merry and clear from out of the Blue Ice Mountains. Here, as he had done as he was outwards bound for Storien-Rhudd; he would 'plenish his water pouch and give Starshadow to drink.

Meantime; Torbair had departed the Menhir on the Barrow Weald of the Yeranoor Uplands, and was progressing southerly-west towards the far distant, dark smudge that was the Forest of Raventhorn Scar. The day was sweet; the skies were an endless blue; and naught to be heard but the whisper of the rustling grasses and once, carried high upon the wind, the thin cry of a hawk far up in the skies.

They came from out of the north, and they were moving swiftly. Torbair saw that if they held their ride, they would lay him intercept within a pair of leagues, and the Forest of Raventhorn Scar was still far distant. The Yeranoor Woldings hereabouts, were wide and rolling. There was small sum of cover. The skies were clear, save for a flock of ravens wheeling to westerly.

Torbair elected that he would ride 'till there was no more ride to be had; then, he would turn at bay. There was small measure of time in remain to invoke a cloaking enchantment, and he resolved that Torbair of Aiuthal would not go down meekly into The Darkness. As they drew closer in flanking array, he saw they were the same vile creatures of which Gwythlyn and Lorimer had spoken... Chutaks! Casting gaze about, he sought some cover where he might stand conceal for time enough to raise the cloaking enchantment. There was nothing that fell to his gaze, save the breeze-tugged grasses.

Distantly, lay the dark line of the Forest of Raventhorn Scar… too far to make gallop. Torbair drew sword, and small measure of time in remain before the creatures would be upon him. As they closed the last handful of cubits, he looked into the west, and whispered his farewells to his love, Ithilwen Silverleaf and to his daughter Catalyn, far away at Ithilwen's steading in the Singing Woods of Lothluthil. The time that they had shared anew had been slender in span, but it had indeed, been sweet.

With the screams of the creatures' war-cries loud in his ears, he turned and stood, with sword raised in firm, two-handed grasp in prepare of receipt of their onslaught. Then... he did not. For as they closed upon him, of a sudden, from beneath the very hooves of their gruesome mounts there arose warriors with flashing blades, hacking down the Chutaks, 'ere they might grasp slightest notion of their imperilment. The Shadaiian Wraith Hunters had laid in cloak of rootling ravens, in, and about the stand of long Woldings grasses betwixt Torbair and the Chutaks, and at the last; had shape-shifted amongst them.

The Chutaks stood little chance; one moment they were riding free, the next... they had ridden into the sweeping of a sword-blade as the Shadaiians shape-shifted into their very midst... one moment there, the next... gone. With naught there for them to prosecute neither assault nor defence, it was not long in passing 'ere all the Chutaks were hacked down, as were their evil mounts. Not one amongst all, accomplished the reach of a pair of sword-blade spans to Torbair, who stood in full amazement at the singular viciousness of the wanton slaughter imposed upon these misfortunate creatures by these Shadaiian Wraith-hunter killers. It was not for nothing that these Shadaiians were dread feared in the shadowy places where the Darklings dwelt.

There, before him stood Archernan, leader of the Shadaiians. He was bespattered from war-helm to boot-heel with Darkling gore. He gifted Torbair a thin smile.

'Methinks we are well met, my Lord Torbair. That were fine sport for a fair day such as this.'

Torbair held him in greetings and thanks, saying,

'How then, did you know of my adversity? For I spied naught out on the Woldings before came the flock of ravens, which methinks were indeed, your companions in cloak of shape-shift.'

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Archernan gave again, the thin smile.

'Did you not see, nor hear the hawk in the skies above you? This was Jhastor the Shadow Watcher. He returned to the Forest of Raventhorn Scar with tale of the ride of these vermin in trail of your passing. So, we made assemblage and stood swiftly to your comfort.'

He cast gaze about the tumbled, and reekingly shredded carcasses.

'T'would seem there shall be no more lurk of trailment, this day. The way is open to you, my Lord Torbair; but we shall keep watch 'an there yet be more vermin about this place.'

Torbair rode on, away from that place of slaughter. Within the passing of two Sundial shadow spans he came down on the Mark-stone of Raventhorn Scar. It was not a troublesome ride, and all the while; the ravens made shadow of his progress. Here, he would settle the next linking, back to the Menhir on the Barrow Weald of the Yeranoor Uplands. He made dismount and stood to the Mark-stone. Stretching out his arms, he intoned the Spellbind. Again, as with the others; from his fingertips sprang the burstings of blinding, violet-white light. Each bursting writhed and flashed as before. From his left-most hand, the bursting darted away across the Woldings towards the Menhir on the Barrow Weald of the Yeranoor Uplands. From his right-most hand, the bursting surged all about the Mark-stone of Raventhorn Scar that glowed the same pale and icy blueness, as had all those places that were previously spellbound.

The next lie of travel would take Torbair all across the northern boundings of The Forest of Raventhorn Scar. He needs must elect as to whether t'were more prudent to embrace this journey within, or without the cloak of the forest. Here, he would be in plain sight from the Yeranoor Shadowlands. The Shadaiian, Archernan had told that the way was open, yet it were still a sturdy span in ride 'till he reached the next linking point of "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting." This place would be one of two that Torbair had embraced as likely to stand worthy receipt of the enchantment.

The first, stood at the far reach of the Forest of Raventhorn Scar. It stood as a clutch of three slender standing stones... as like, a narrow, unroofed privy; having a back, and two side walls in sum. This place was anciently called by name… The Cove of Poulna. Such purpose or meaning as it might have sometime embraced was lost in the far distant mists of forgetfulness. The second place was the Mark-Stone of Elisriendell. This though, was a further eight leagues distant.

Torbair chose to ride the fringe of the Forest of Raventhorn Scar in open sight of the Yeranoor Shadowlands. T'would be more prudent to progress within the underwood of the forest border cloaked by the greening, but the sun was well past its zenith, and there was a sturdy distance to accomplish before he came down on the borderlands of Elisriendell. He would ride the open way to The Cove of Poulna, and there, settle the next link. This choose would stand him advantage of perhaps, one Sundial shadow span.

Such an endeavour would lay him clear of Raventhorn whilst the sun was still high; and in truth, the Forest of Raventhorn Scar was not a place to linger when dusk came a'creeping. It was, as like, such a ride might be accomplished with small sum of imposition, save the keeping of a watchful eye out to the northern reaches of the Woldings where lay the Shadowlands.

With this resolve, Torbair mounted his steed and turned into the west. His progress spent a pair of Sundial shadow spans of watchful ride, but nothing moved out upon the northern Woldings; and soon enough, he came onto the open shoulder of the rolling Yeranoor Dales, with Raventhorn Scar distancing behind him. There! A quarter league on, loomed the Cove of Poulna, casting deepening shadows in the lowering sun. Below him, off the shoulder of the Dales, stretched the Vale of Lothluthil, gathering purple dusking as the sun lay softer in the west.

Torbair breathed a heartening sigh. He knew this land. Here, he had sported with his youngling comrades; here, as he gathered in sum of summers, he had frolicked and made dalliance with pretty Algethi maidens. Down in the Vale there stood an ancient Tythe barn. It had ever been a place for trysting. Here he would spend the night. Close by, was the little Luthil beck; so there would be fresh water for mount and rider.

Standing before The Cove of Poulna, he stretched out his arms and, invoking the spellcast; raised the linking of the Enchanted Girdle back towards the Mark-stone of Raventhorn Scar. Even as the pale and icy blueness yet flickered about the Cove stones, Torbair of Aiuthal made mount and rode down into the Vale of Lothluthil.

Eldamar had made fair progression from the Keening stone, and now, the Great Henge of Dromnmhor stood plain in his sighting. He came down to the little Dromn beck tinkling merry and clear from out of the Blue Ice Mountains. Making dismount, and letting Starshadow to drink at the beck, he swilled the dust of ride from his countenance and 'plenished his water-pouch. He walked into the Henge where, less than three short summers in passing, he had joined Cirion and Lorimer in bond. He stood before the Bride stone and stretched out his arms. He intoned the Spellbind. Again, from his fingertips sprang the burstings of blinding, violet-white light. Each bursting writhed and flashed as had all the rest. From his left-most hand, the bursting darted away across the Plain of Shandalar towards the Keening stone. From his right-most hand, the bursting washed about the feet of the Bride stone, which flickered and glowed the same pale, and icy blueness.

With the Enchanted Girdle raised secure, from Storien-Rhudd to The Great Henge of Dromnmhor; Eldamar mounted Starshadow and rode into the south. In this, to his thoughts, there lay conundrum. Betwixt Dromnmhor and the Shandalar Citadel there were no places of standing, as like, those now engirdled. Indeed, t'would seem that the next linking place would need to be upon Striding Edge itself. There, on the very shoulder of Great Striding Edge there lay the tumbled bones of an ancient signal station. To the east, above the very throat of Ling lay the remain of another of like kind. These two ruins had been raised in times, distant and past, by The Great Snow-Queen Serissea of Galeth as part of a chain of watching places that spanned from Striding Edge to the then, recently-raised Algethi-fort of Windlemoss Crag. This defence was raised to oversee the Plain of Malphaers 'gainst the lurk and prowl of Darklings who plotted to incurse her Realm, their mischief to impose.

These places on Striding Edge and the Ling scarp had been forsaken when the first High Watchtower of Ling had been raised by Serissea's daughter, Cirion; so that never again might the Darklings make free in the High Pass of Ling as they had so done when Cirion turned them back at the bitter cost of her losing her Lover... the brave, young Captain who embraced the blow that would have carried her death... her Captain who died, not knowing she carried their child... the child who would be Chelaine; mother of the present Ice Queen of Shandalar... Cirion, granddaughter of Eldamar.

'Aye, t'was as good a place as any… and the furthermost ruin stood on the cliff directly above the Mark-stone of Shandalar. Both ruins would indeed serve the purpose.

As he rode, Eldamar perceived out to the west, a stand of dust far out on the great Shandalar plain. This would be the Baggage train inbound from Storien-Rhudd, conveying the Companions. They were, perhaps, a pair of Sundial Shadow-spans without the Citadel. He resolved to make haste to raise the Enchanted Girdle in completeness. 'An he effected variance of ride to east of the Shandalar Citadel, he could ride hard for the Low Riggs of Striding Edge; there to seek a passage up onto the heights.

He held remembrance of a slender coomb thereabouts that clambered up to the heights. It could not be progressed in full sum whilst mounted, so there would be need to make clamber... as if he were some mountain goat. This would, as like, squander some sturdy span in passing; so now stood the need to cast off distance in swift accord. Urging Starshadow forward, he galloped into the south.

Close on the passing of one, and one-half Sundial shadow-spans, with the Shandalar Citadel standing distantly behind him, he came down on the Low Riggs of Striding Edge, and there!... the little coomb leading away up to the heights. Leaving Starshadow at the throat of the coomb, Eldamar made sturdy progression of the clamber up to the heights of Striding Edge.

At the first; as he passed over the Low Riggs, he found the endeavour embraced, but small imposition. This though, was not the tale as he approached the jut of Striding Edge. At length, having availed himself of a tiresome clamber that embraced not a little peril; Eldamar stood upon the shoulder of Striding Edge and tarried a while, whilst he gathered of his breath.

Turning to the tumble of the first watch-station, he intoned again the Spellbinding; and, as of all that had gone before; from his fingertips sprang the burstings of blinding, violet-white light. Each bursting writhed and flashed; as the bursting from his left-most hand darted away across the low Riggs towards the Great Henge of Dromnmhor; whilst that which burst from his right-most hand washed about the ruin before him, and, as with all the rest, the tumble of stones glowed and flickered a pale, and icy blueness.

This link settled, he moved on towards tumble… the second. As he prepared to lay the linking back to its westerly kin, he saw a glow in the twilighting skies out to easterly. At the first, it gently washed the gathering clouds of eventide with a paleness which grew in orangey as the darkness beset the eastern skies. And there! Farther onwards... yet one more soft glimmer against the night.

Then, came the knowing. Glow... the First, must be the fired braziers of the Circle of Bradda; the furthermost must be the great braziers of the Baranthyr Gate. What had befallen the Realm of Arfeiniel? What manner of Darklings had incursed, and from where?

Time and enough for the ponder and none to squander. He stood before the Watch Station above the throat of Ling and stretched out his arms. He intoned the Spellbind. Again, from his fingertips sprang the burstings of blinding, violet-white light. Each bursting writhed and flashed as had all the rest. From his right-most hand, the bursting darted behindwards across Striding Edge to wash about the tumble of the firstmost Watch Station upon the shoulder of Striding Edge; which flickered and glowed the same pale, and icy blueness; whilst from his left-most hand, the bursting of blinding, violet-white light plunged over the edge of the scarp of the throat of Ling down to the Mark-stone of Shandalar.

The Girdle was now complete, less the linkings from the cairns on the Knoll of Rhyddu to the Broken Henge in the Vale of Caehrig below the Great Crystal Castle on The Cornflower-blue Mere; and on towards Elisriendell.

Soon enough, it'would lie in full compass even unto the reaches of Lothluthil. There was time enough to lay the last links in the west. This was not a place where the Darklings were likely to incurse... not yet a'while. Eldamar made haste down from Striding Edge and mounting Starshadow, rode swiftly for the Citadel of Shandalar to lay tell of what he had seen in the east.

At the Citadel, the Companions of Storien-Rhudd had been welcomed, and quartered in the old Faluan Guard Barracks. As was imagined, Lokari and Tahkaiia had taken to quarters together, as had several of the companions. Khanis and Gwythlyn had seemingly embraced an accord, one to the other; and though as yet, they chose to quarter apart, it stood plain that soon enough, they would make a common dwelling.

Eldamar held counsel with Cirion and Artanis, concerning what he had seen from the heights of Striding Edge... the glow to the east. Artanis was resolved to ride forth in seek of what might have befallen her Wiccen Rede sisters at Bradda. Eldamar and Cirion gainsaid her; her blithesome condition stood against such an endeavour... t'was to be plainly seen that her belly had begun to take curving; and now, the Golden Child must be preserved at all costs and not be chance lost in childing-founder brought forth by galloping mount to Arfeiniel.

Artanis lay sturdy declaim of this happenstance, but at length, seemingly chose to avail herself of their wise counsel. Cirion spoke:

'I shall command Lorimer to ride out a pair of squadrons in seek of the truth of this thing. There is small doubt that my grandfather will ride with them; as will Lukas and Lokari. They shall elicit what has befallen your homeland, Artanis; and will return with intelligences as to whether we needs-must strengthen our defence against what might lie out there.'

Having resolved to ride to Arfeiniel in seek of cause of the ominous glow in the east; t'was agreed to attend the dawning of the new day before the ride would be prosecuted. In this, there lay two sound reasonings.

Reasoning... the first; was that it could not be known what might lie out there for the finding. Reasoning... the second; was the need to progress the slender Windlemoss causeway; which was most certainly not a place to compass with a pair of squadrons in the dark of the night. Artanis again made sturdy petition that she ride with the squadrons. This was gainsaid by all. The ride would be hard; the perils unknown. In this, she decried their gainsaying. These were her Sisterhood... she must ride for Bradda. Yet again, she was gainsaid. The Golden Child she carried could not be imperiled. At length, she demurred; though t'was plainly seen that this stood hard upon her. She would remain in Shandalar with Cirion.

Gwythlyn elected that she would ride with her grandfather, and in this, Khanis made hard demand that he ride at her side. Here, could be seen the soft blossoming of the mutual accord betwixt them. Tahkaiia embraced the same hard demand; were Lokari to ride... then so would she. Though both she, and Khanis stood lacking warrior skills in their new-found forms, t'was made plain that there would be no dispute in this thing... this was how it would stand.

The morning dawned a sombre greyness; a drizzle of cold rain came whispering in from the east. A little beyond the seventh Sundial-shadow of the morning, two squadrons rode out of the Shandalar Citadel, bound away southwardly to Ling Beckside and the Great Redoubt of Striding Edge. At first, the squadrons rode steadily... the better to offer Khanis and Tahkaiia grasp of the knowing of the skill of prevailing upon horseback. This knowing was amply embraced in the span in passing until they reached the Redoubt. Passing the great Iron-clad gates therethrough, the ride turned into the east to progress the High Pass of Ling and thence, to the new High Watchtower. Soon enough, they had accomplished passage through the sturdy gates of the High Watchtower which now stood in completeness astride the towering wall that spanned the pass... even to a height of one, and one-half-score of cubits in reach. Beyond; there stood the Mark-stones of Shandalar and Lorenfalu, betwixt which, Eldamar had raised the Enchanted Girdle. All passed therethrough, and never a sign to tell 'nor lay suspicion that here stood anything that might confound those who were of Darkling breed.

The squadrons rode up and out of the Throat of Ling, and there before them lay the Great Plain of Malphaers. The wind yet whimpered lonesome about that place as they rode to the east, bound for Windlemoss. The day still sat sombre, with clouds all scudding a dreary greyness. The drizzle that came gently on the whimper and moan of the eternal winds of Malphaers was not enough to confound their ride, but more than enough to embrace them with a melancholy as to what they might find in distant Arfeiniel.

For the span of three Sundial-shadows they made dismal gallop, until at last, the Great Rift of Malphaers began to yawn to their right-most hand. Soon, they would come down upon the ruin of Windlemoss Fort. All was silent as the tomb. Out there… nothing moved. Their mounts' hooves echoed hollowly from off the lower reaches of the Shandalar Ice Mountains as the tumbled chaos of the Windlemoss crag burying the old fort came to their sighting. The stink from the chasm had faded; the heaving slime of the Horanaurk carcasses had settled, but the taste of death was still in the air.

With care, the squadrons passed by Windlemoss and rode the causeway towards the Hills of Tillethmhor. Here still, the whitening bones of Horanaurks scattered the scrubby borderings of the causeway. Tahkaiia was beset by a swift, and ill-cloaked shiver as they progressed that dreadful place; and she moved closer to Lokari; reaching out to him and clasping his hand. It was all along this evil chasm where, in her Loki form; she had harassed and harried the Shadow-Wraith that made sturdy endeavour to take Lokari as he galloped Starshadow from out of Arfeiniel to the refuge of Ling. She had so nearly lost him that day, and she was most certain-sure that she would not chance losing him again.

The squadrons of Shandalar rode on. T'would be close on thirty leagues 'till they accomplished the slender cleave in the rock face that led to the soft, green valley and the azure pool. The skies to the east above Astalan were clearing. T'would not be from here that such as might have befallen Bradda would have come forth. At length, the squadrons progressed the narrowing causeway to where Eldamar had encountered Feawen Arcamen in his outward ride to Astalan. Here too, had the Four Riders of Doom made their intercept. A little farther on to the east would be the slender cleft in the rock-face wherethrough Feawen had led him to the tranquil azure pool beset by the Willow Grove. Here too, should be the boundings of the Enchanted Girdle of Arfeiniel.

As the squadrons passed therethrough, there was no hint, 'nor sign of the same; but then... why should there be? All here were for The Oneness of The Light; and thus, might pass freely.

With the glade accomplished; the squadrons made dismount and gave their steeds to drink at the azure pool whilst the troopers took of their ease for a while. Eldamar stood apart; his remembrance of Feawen and her prosecution of her "Covenant of Opportunity" stood softly in his thoughts. His ponder was breached by Lorimer, who had progressed to the shoulder of the glade and gazed about the downlands. He spoke; his voice steady with concern:

'My Lord; there is smoke haze in the skies to the north. T'would seem some place has been recently fired.'

Progress of ride was swiftly called. Water pouches were 'plenished; those who had need of swift easement were told to embrace the willow grove in all haste; and soon enough, the Shandalar squadrons rode up through the stand of willows into the soft, green valley that clove the Hills of Tillethmhor to eastwards. The downlands were quiet and deserted. The haze of smoke clung to the skies to northerly-west of their ride. They rode east for the space of two Sundial-shadows. At length, they came down onto the ancient stand of Wychwithy trees besetting the abode of Ainariel Fefalas; The Revered Mother of The Wiccen Rede Priestesses of Arfeiniel.

Now, though... there was no standing abode; all was a tumble of burned stones. This was no smouldering ruin; it had long since been put to the torch. Lokari brought his mount up beside Eldamar, and spoke; a quiet and sombre tone to his voice.

'My Lord; here is the place that I found the old woman, all Charas-wrenched, as I made flight out of Bradda. Then, though... the bothy still prevailed. I laid her out decently upon her cot. What has befallen this place?'

Lorimer had made dismount, and entered into the ruin. Soon enough he came without; his eyes were dark with the horror of it. His countenance was pale, and he looked as though he might spew. He spoke; his voice was tight and measured:

'There is 'naught, but scattered bone within. T'would seem they butchered this old woman of whom you speak, and then fired the bothy; having laid the un-limbed pieces of her flesh upon the flags... as if, in some gruesome oven. From the scours upon the bones in remain, t'would seem they roasted her and then fed upon her. Mayhap, they held a taste for a hot victualling.'

At the hearken of this tell; a coldness clutched at Eldamar. He now knew full well what was in prowl about Arfeiniel... Chutaks! They could be no other. He was embraced with a terrible foreboding of what they might find in Bradda. If these vermin were content to consume the wormy remains of the old woman; what then, might they manifest upon the succulent, young, firm flesh of the Cabal maids of Bradda? He resolved to ride swiftly for Bradda; but elected not to abandon this place without laying his respects. Entering therein; that, which befell his gaze was worse by far than even Lorimer's tell had betokened.

The bones of Ainariel Fefalas lay scattered about… all splintered and gnawed, where these creatures had riven them asunder with, perhaps, a war-axe; to suck upon the marrow. They had even breached her skull to draw forth the brain matter. Eldamar found a scorched salver cast aside into a corner and began to gather what little remained of Ainariel Fefalas. Such as there was, would be cairned with reverence; he owed her that, at least; for her "Golden Gift" of youthful prowess that she had bestowed upon him that night he lay with her, was no cozen; it yet remained as sturdy as ever it had been.

The gathering did not take a sturdy span in passing; the raising of the little cairn within the stand of ancient Wychwithy trees squandered less time still. Eldamar stood over the little cairn. There could never be the knowing whether Ainariel Fefalas had ever gazed upon Sathulinan; being taken in Charas-wrench, as she had so been. He held a wishful hoping that the Shadow-Wraith that had taken her was among those that had been destroyed; and her Charas had found its way home to Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island. He gazed sadly at the little cairn and whispered his farewells. Then, turning; he strode out of the Wychwithy stand; hard of countenance, and stern in demeanour.

The squadrons of Shandalar rode away from the ruined bothy of Ainariel Fefalas, skirting beyond the stand of ancient Wychwithy trees to east, all up through the soft, green valleys of Arfeiniel; and within the span of little above two Sundial-shadows, made approach the Bridge of Herlin. Here the trackway clove in twain. Upon crossing the Ancient wooden bridge into the Vale of Cleigh; some two Leagues to east lay the throat of The Pass of Hestrus, shadowed and gloomy. It was late in the day; the sun was making settle in the western skies, and there were still six leagues to ride before they came down onto Bradda.

Eldamar called a halt. What would be the choose? Would they make camp here, or ride on to Bradda? T'was deemed prudent by sizeable vote that camp be made hereabouts. T'was not for the knowing what might lurk down the Vale of Cleigh; and blundering about beset by the cloak of darkness was not a wise endeavour.

Lorimer elected to ride patrol forward to gather wisdoms of how things lay. He made choose of his companions for this purpose with care. He would take his Under-Captain... Teeve Lerion; he who had embraced an accord with Jielith, the tawny-maiden of the Companions of Storien-Rhudd. Chosen too, were four sturdy fellows from the Queen's Guard. They rode away down the Vale of Cleigh towards the curl and haze of the smoke. Eldamar watched them go; hoping 'gainst hope that they would not find what he feared they would.

As the moon was rising over Astalan, there came the drumming of hooves from down the Vale. The patrol made return to the encampment. Lorimer sought out Eldamar. He was very silent, and his face was pale. Eldamar made to speak, as Teeve Lerion stumbled away from his mount to cast the sum of his belly into the dust in the shadow-edge of the encampment. So; all that was feared had indeed manifested. Eldamar looked to Lorimer;

'Well, my Lord; is it as we feared?'

Lorimer looked to Eldamar with tears in his eyes.

'Nay, my Lord; it is worse… much worse. I have never perceived the like in all my summers of battle. Bradda is a charnel house. None there yet live. The Cabal maids are torn to shreds; many are devoured in part; all have been Charas-wrenched.'

He began to shiver. Eldamar laid an arm around his shoulders and led him away. In the morning he would see; but Lorimer would not ride back down to Bradda. There was only so much horror that could be abode, and Lorimer had seen more than enough on this ride.

On the morrow, Eldamar rode away down the Vale of Cleigh in company with Gwythlyn and Khanis; Tahkaiia, Lokari, and one squadron. They rode six leagues, then, cresting a rise in the Vale; there, below them lay what had once been the settlement of Bradda. All the dwellings had been fired, and two of the great, poled iron braziers circling it about had been torn down. So; that was how the attackers had breached The Girdle of Bradda. All about the common ground lay the remains and tatters of the Cabal maids; their bones glistening in the early morning sun. As Lorimer had laid tell, many had been gnawed at, and great collops of their flesh had been hacked away. But, there was worse to be found.

Within the smoulder of the great, gathering roundhouse were sprawled a dozen of the maids who had been with child. Their bellies had been ripped open, and the infants torn out. Tiny bones were scattered all about. The unborn infants had been feasted upon… as if they were some choice morsels. Many of the troopers were making retch at the sight.

Eldamar knelt, with tears in his eyes, to a broken, and twisted corpse, thrown into a corner of the hearth-stand. She could scarcely be discerned as the youngling of the Cabal; little more than a dozen and eight summers in holding of span; with long, pale-golden tresses, and deep-Sapphire-blue eyes... Ranewen; little Ranewen, who had pillaged him as sturdily as any tavern strumpet might, when they were held in Bradda by the prowl of the Riders of Doom less than one, and one-half summers since passed.

She had been butchered; with great lumps of her flesh hacked away… her thighs, her buttocks… her pretty breasts… and too; her belly was laid open… for she too, had been with child. Here to be seen, was, as like… the sum of a sweet dalliance with Lokari as he held in the hospitality of Bradda awaiting his ride into the west. All about the common ground there lay signs of the attackers; a gruesome beast here… a hacked Chutak there. In sum, they counted above a score of these vermin sprawled about, cut down by the Cabal maids as they fought for their lives.

So began the dreadful task of the gathering together of the ruined remains of the Cabal maids of Bradda. This awful imposition was sternly embraced by the troopers of Shandalar. Hardened and seasoned warriors though they were; there was much gritting of teeth and paling of countenance as they gathered up the maids to lay them to common cairn. As they struggled with the sundered bodies in perseverance of laying them decently; one of the troopers happened to look up. A great gasp of fear escaped him as he beheld a young maid standing not ten cubits before his frightened gaze. All there, stood with angsty stare, and many made the sign of the Horns.

She stood in the common ground as if she had risen up out of the earth. None had seen her approach. They stared, open-mouthed. Was she some phantom Cabal maid; risen to lay some misfortune upon them in lieu of her dreadful doom?

Eldamar came forward, and knew she was not. He knew her. She was Seren; Daughter of the People of The Hollow Hills. She stood before him, saying:

'La, Sun-Lord. The keening of my heart to you, in your losing of the Cabal Sisters. The Old Woman has sent me to you with the dark meld of herbs and blossoms to lay into the sleeping place of the Cabal maids. Women who have perished in such manner as they, are given to walking; and the Dark meld will embrace them secure and safe in the long sleep. They shall not be condemned to wander abroad in the dark of the night.'

Eldamar spoke;

'I thank you, Seren; Daughter of the People of The Hollow Hills, for your concern and your grace. But, we needs-must finish here and sally forth to ride down these vermin 'ere they strike, yet again.'

Seren gazed at him with her dark and unreadable eyes. Then, she smiled; a chill, un-nerving smile; saying:

'There is no cause for you to concern yourself in ride, Sun-Lord. They are fully smitten. The Old Woman prevised their mayhems and laid entrapment for them to the east. My brothers engaged them in fearsome measure, and none escaped... even to the last one.'

Eldamar regarded her with a curious stare.

'But, how? The Old Woman told that you were widely spread and lacking in strength; how then, did they prevail in this thing?'

Again, Seren gave the chilling smile.

'You forget, Sun-Lord; we are the viper that stings in the night; and there is this...'

She held forth her hand. Across her slender palm there lay a beautiful little arrow; scarcely larger than a birding shaft. It was crafted from Elm, and flight-tipped with wood-pigeon feathers.

Eldamar made to take the same from her hand. She drew back, saying:

'Have a care, Sun-Lord; this shaft can only be used for War. It cannot be used to hunt, for the poison prevails in the piercing. The need is for the juice of three rare, red-berry plants to pollute one arrow; but in the tell of my brothers, the sum was worthy of the spend. T'is their tell that these gruesome beings embraced a shrieking, drawn-out doom as the poison burned into their flesh. Indeed, some were beset with writhe and shriek for the span in passing betwixt the high of the morning and the creep of eventide.'

She gave again, the cold, and chilling smile.

Eldamar was about to speak, when, from out of the great gathering roundhouse, there came the most sturdy commotion. All turned to see, and from therein, came the Under-Captain of the second squadron, making backward step with infinite care. As he came to the light, it was seen that at his throat was the point of Gwythlyn's great sword, as she forced him without the portal. Behind her, came Tahkaiia. Eldamar saw upon these two maids, the tear-spill shining upon their cheeks at what they had discovered within; but saw too, that their eyes were hard and perilous. Gwythlyn hissed:

'Stand you away. You shall not tumble the bones of these lost, and forsaken infants into some buckler to carry off as if they were so much midden spoil. These babes shall warrant the same reverence as do their mothers.'

The Under-Captain backed away, his hands stretched before him in compliance of her hard demand. When he had accomplished the common ground, Gwythlyn and Tahkaiia turned again to their heartbreaking task. Eldamar shook his head; would these young Troopers never learn that in matters such as this; t'were the females that held sway? And more… to try to impose resolvement of issue in manner the same, as would be made for say… battlefield dead, was asking… 'nay was begging for admonishment of the kind that the young Under-Captain had, this moment received in sturdy sum from The High Duchess of Shandalar.

He made turn to Seren. She was not there. None had seen her depart, but... up on the hillside there was the faintest glimpse of something moving swiftly through the underwood. Perhaps, t'was some wild thing... perhaps, it was not. But... never again would some sentinel be rebuked for not spying out the approach of one of the People of The Hollow Hills; for they moved, as will shadows of the Moon; or as mist will flit upon some lonesome mere.