Chapter Three.

"The Partisan, Yellow-Haired Slut".

Eldamar held concern for Artanis as they rode that last day into Astalan. She was uncommonly quiet; it seemed her spiritedness had forsaken her. Though, t'was not to be wondered at. She had, that day at the seventeenth victual cache, come face to face with the dreadfulness of The Darkness. Eldamar had campaigned 'gainst it for as long as he could remember, and had seen most of its terrors. Artanis was young; she had not known the creeping fear in the night. She had not seen the venomous spite of Baelar, "The Lord of The Underdark." What she might now see in Astalan was not for the knowing, but Eldamar knew t'would not be a pretty sight.

The Mordbrood had ravaged the land as they swarmed up from out of the south. He had watched the smoke staining the skies as he sat in his Halls distantly in the Shining Lands. He had seen their disregard for the value of life at the great battle on the slopes of Rhyddu. He elected to keep his counsel, and hold her in careful watch; for what he knew they would, as like find, might well be the breaking of the girl.

They breached the border some three Sundial shadows beyond the zenith of the day and came upon the eighteenth victual cache. Lokari had laid this sturdy in substance. It was secreted in an old tumbledown bothy, stout planked above and about, and cloaked from prying eyes. Indeed, it'was so well cloaked, they rode past it at the first; but then, Eldamar spied a marker written in Charybon Runic tongue, laid cunning by Lokari. But he also spied a little way further on, the first tell of The Mordbrood nightmare that had befallen this land.

A quarter-league on, they came upon a razed, and fired homestead. There stood, but two walls, and in the nearer wall was a door. The door was blackened and charred; and nailed to the door was a blackened and charred, shrunken carcass. Lying about were the shrivelled remains of what might have been a woman, and four, perhaps, five younglings. T'would seem… and it were no wild imagining; the charred corpse would be the homesteader, nailed to the door of his abode, as likely, yet still alive; whilst the whole was fired about him. The scattered corpses would, as like, be his wife and younglings made to watch the dreadful doom of husband and father; and then slaughtered when the one nailed upon the door had shrieked his last breath.

Eldamar turned away, and there was Artanis, sitting on her horse behind him. Her eyes were wide, and she bit her nether lip once again. But; 'though wide at the horror of it, her eyes were cold; cold as ice. She spoke not a word, but turned, and trotted her Cordach back to the victual store. There was small virtue in progressing on that day. Not for the knowing, was where they might find their next shelter. So, a sturdy meal would be taken here, and the night spent in the victual store; for here it was warm and dry. Eldamar made effort to commune with Artanis, but she had little to say.

As the dusk gathered and deepened, he moved to his blanket and settled himself. Artanis sat where she was, and made purposeful hone and hone again of the cutting edge of her sword blade; lost in her thoughts. He was awakened by her tight embrace of her arms about him. She said not a word, but pulled him to her, and took of her pleasure in wild abandon and frantic need… as if it might be the last pleasuring she would know. T'was as if she were trying to lose herself, to drown herself in sensualness; to wipe away with wanton pleasuring that which she had seen this day. When she had sated her desires, she softly laid her head upon his chest and cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, they rode out to the south. Eldamar had thought to raise cairn about the slaughtered family, but then; the carrion birds had as much need of victuals, as did they. Even as they rode out, the crows and magpies were gathering in the trees. Artanis was very quiet again that morning as they rode through pastures sprinkled with slaughtered, bloated cattle; compassing crop fields that smouldered even yet, from the firing in wake of the Mordbrood advance. Where there should have stood early ripening grain, there was 'naught but withered, ashen stalk; where there should have been swelling vegetables, there was 'naught but trampled desolation. What might have been spared had been pillaged by the Mordbrood quartermasters. Each and every barn and bothy had been put to the torch. Those who had lived in these places, and toiled in their fields lay about the ruined settlements and farmsteads; all hacked and despoiled.

Here and there; as Eldamar and Artanis progressed; they would come upon a place where the Mordbrood had disported in their slaughter. Some farmer nailed to the door of his bothy, and the bothy fired about him... as with the first that they had found. In a razed farmsteading… a maid stripped naked, and tied to table; with the stains and marks of many defilers upon her; bearing the cast upon her face that her spirit had, at the last; escaped the ravaging of her tormentors; in manner the same as is sometimes perceived in some birds and animals, whereat; the rage to the offence inflicted upon them becomes so great, they choose to betake the pathway to the haven of their death where their tormentors can never follow them. Then they came upon the first settlement.

Once, it had been a pleasing and neat settlement; now, it was 'naught but smouldering ruins. Nothing there moved. All the villagers were gone. Even the hounds had been slaughtered in their kennels. They rode on; there was nothing here; and then, they came upon the little coomb... a little coomb choked with carcasses.

Each and every one of the missing villagers had been executed in this place; even to the tiniest infant... and every one was missing their long bones from arm and from leg. But, there was worse. Further up the coomb they came upon a place where the Mordbrood had made their sport with these unfortunate villagers. Here, were carcasses roped betwixt trees, and all torn asunder. The sport, t'would seem, had been to haul down to full bend, and then tie two young and slender saplings to stakes driven into the ground. Then, the victims were roped by wrist and ankle betwixt the crowns of the pair of saplings; thence, the saplings were cut loose. As the saplings whipped skywards, the victim would embrace a terrible, shrieking doom as all his joints were torn asunder. And it were not just males who embraced this terrible fate. There were maids and younglings amongst the torn, and shattered remnants as well. Seeing these things, Eldamar thought, perhaps, his compassion had been wasted upon those Mordbrood embracing the dreadful Green Rot back at Windlemoss. These vermin deserved nothing less than the terrible doom unleashed upon them at Windlemoss; and at Ling, and at Rhyddu.

There was yet more. Farther along, they came upon a heap of youngling maids; none, it would seem, holding more than twelve summers upon them. They had all been defiled in manner the same as their elder sisters; then, each and every ones' throat had been slashed open. At the far reach of the coomb, there stood the remain of a burned barn. Hanging from the great roof crossbeam which yet prevailed, were a score or so, of what had been the young males of the settlement of sword-bearing age.

They had been roped with their arms behind their backs, and then hauled up upon the crossbeam by their wrists. In this, their arms had been torn out of their shoulder sockets as their weight imposed upon the same. As they dangled in agony, their tongues had been torn out of them, as had their manhoods; the sum of each had then been spiked to the beam above their heads as like some choice trophies as they had soundlessly writhed, and bled their lives away.

Artanis sat silent upon her horse; pale of countenance, and wide of eye, as she surveyed the horror all about her. All of this, within the first five leagues of their progress of this ruined land. Now, she saw before her eyes, the harvest of the consummate evil besetting The Darkling breed. Now, she understood why The Forces of The Light... this last, Bright, Shining Flower of the West stood ever defying the Great Darkling Hordes. What Eldamar and Artanis could not know was that there was far worse lurking further into Astalan.

They could not know of the Dominion of the tyrant Horanaurk Berenvag; 'nor of his Guardian Cabals called "Tur-anion," who subjected all to his will. They could not know of his Covert Militia… "The Galdor of Valdarthost," whose remit was to suppress and crush any shadow, or hint of disloyalty in action, word, or even thought; of those in thrall to the Dominion of the tyrant Berenvag.

Eldamar and Artanis rode out of the little coomb; Eldamar was sombre of countenance, and Artanis, white of face, and trembling of lip. So, this was how it would lie; this was what they might expect as they progressed Astalan. They turned again to the southerly-east, and rode on in silence. They rode for three Sundial-shadows through a burnt, and desolate land. Nothing moved; all was dead. Bloated livestock lay in the pastures; sprawled carcasses lay about at the farms and homesteads; all hacked and burned, and despoiled. When the Mordbrood came, all was pillage and rape; torture and destruction. It seemed, as they rode; there was no life remaining in this ruined land.

As they rode the fourth Sundial shadow span; from southerly-east, beyond the smoky-blue hills; Artanis suddenly beheld a speck in the sky. Swiftly, she laid the tell to Eldamar, and they rode swiftly for a small, yet sturdy spinney of Wychwithy trees that lay a quarter-league distantly before them. As they held themselves in cloak in the thickly green and shadowy spinney, it was seen that the speck came on at swift pace. They saw it was another Kaarok that drifted; quartering the skies, gazing about itself with a mean, and purposeful stare. So; it would seem that somewhere, there was one who held presentiment that perhaps, this rider… or these riders from the west, had not fully embraced their doom out on The Plain of Malphaers.

Perhaps, the Kaarok was wrong in assumption of tell that its kin had destroyed their quarry. But then, as Artanis had foresaid; the Kaarok was a most singularly witless creature, lacking any shred of guile. For in its thinking, what it did not see was not there; and it had not seen them out on The Plain of Malphaers. But, now… it made glide, to and fro across the despoiled land; forward and back, as it scoured the scorched fields for any sign of movement. It prevailed in this scouring for some one, and one-half Sundial shadows, then turning to southerly-east, slowly diminished as it wheeled and circled away into the distance.

As they remained in cloak beneath the trees, Eldamar spoke softly to Artanis; for he held sturdy concern with the stand of her humour. She had grown hard and cold in the span in passing since they first saw the hand of the Mordbrood upon the people of this land; or rather, the Mordbrood defilement of the maids. He gifted her his thoughts...

'Child, let not these things prowl and fester in your thoughts. For they will surely creep about and consume you, as like, they were the Crab Sickness.'

Just as he had anticipated, Artanis flared,

'Think not to call me child, My Lord; for you know full well I am not. There is a score to be settled here, and you have small grasp of the creed of the Cabal of Bradda concerning each, and every sister in all of these lands. All are embraced in the Fellowship of the Wiccen Rede, and they shall be avenged. Any such vermin with, but the slimmest hand in this thing that I may find; are mine for the taking. They shall embrace the Wiccen Rede Death blow… each and every one I might winnow in this forsaken land. Hearken, My Lord; for you would be well advised to take heed of my counsel in this matter.'

Her voice was soft, but in tone, it bade no argument. He looked into her eyes; green, and cold as ice. He saw there, a look he had not seen before... and would not want to see again. A look that he could not lay word to, but one that gifted a cold shiver... like as, when a grey goose has, at that moment; flown above your grave. Yet, soon enough, he most certainly would be able to lay name to it.

They waited in cloak for one more quarter of a Sundial-shadow in the little spinney, 'less the Kaarok made return. But it did not; the skies above the distant smoky-blue hills were clear. They rode for the span of one more Sundial-shadow through the ruined land. As they progressed in cresting a small hill, below them, lay a farmstead, sturdy and unspoiled; the dwelling; built of stone; the barns standing unslighted, and the fields un-burned. He glanced at the hilt of his great sword; "Eitheltuil Eledhwen"... in short, spoke: "Eithelhwen"... "Wellspring of Algethi Light," bepommelled with crystal, and carved, as like, a Star. The pommel-stone, shone brightly. There were those of Darkling breed in this place. For these swords of The Light sensed such Darkling presence, and warned with flash and glitter in the depths of their pommel-stones.

Without the dwelling, there were tethered six horses. Eldamar gave a glance to Artanis. Her green eyes glittered, and were narrowed. She spoke quietly,

'I know of these places; T'is odds even that this is a Horanaurk Naigias, as it is called. It is nothing more than a place of rape and despoilment. Here, the vermin slake their lust on captive maids. This is not a breeding settlement, for they cannot beget with those not of their own breed. This place is for naught more than the prosecution of their lust.'

And she drew her sword, as they rode down onto the farmstead.

Entering the main dwelling, they perceived a corpulent, and ugly female, who looked up as they entered. Eldamar saw her eyes were blood-red; holding not the black roundness of Algethi, nor of Thuvian; but slitted, as like a cat in the sunlight. She opened her mouth to cry alarm, but not a word escaped her lips. For her head tumbled from her shoulders and embraced the floor with a wet thud. Artanis had struck, 'nigh swifter than the eye might follow. She wrinkled her nose in disgust,

'Ugh! This ugly bitch was a Ranulug Half-breed...'

Then swiftly turned; as a Horanaurk burst from the door close by; his Kelek-Bersker raised. She laid a vicious, sweeping stroke to his belly, which burst asunder, tumbling his entrails out of him. He squealed, dropping his Kelek-Bersker; and frantically tried to hold in his spilling guts with his hands as he sank to his knees. And Eldamar now knew why her sword was fashioned in the manner that it was. Here was the Wiccen Rede Death blow of which she had spoken; a slow and agonising doom, devoid of any dignity a warrior might expect, or hope for.

She paused, as the stricken Horanaurk tried to force his entrails back inside himself; his eyes straining and bulging with the shrieking pain besetting him. Then she slowly walked past him, and as she did so; she spun about, and swung her sword down upon him. With a gruesome, wet crunch; the blade clove down through his shoulder, and burst out from under his nether armpit. The whole upmost portion of his carcass slid asunder from the rest, and thudded onto the floor. The lower portion crumpled, spraying and gouting his black life about the room.

Eldamar looked into her face, not knowing what he might see. Would there be the blood-lust shining there? Would there be the cold shimmer of revenge in sate? He looked, but there was nothing. Her eyes were calm; her demeanour, serene; as though the gruesome, and demeaning doom she had gifted upon this Horanaurk were less than the imposition of say… reaching up, and plucking a succulent peach from the tree, when strolling a garden upon a summer's eve. In turning again, she spoke softly,

'An you would, My Lord; I would have you guard my back as I lay tutorment to the remain of the vermin in this place.'

Then turning, she began to climb the stairs softly to the chambers above.

At the first door, off the dingy and shadowed abovestairs passageway, she paused. There came from within, gruntings of pleasure and whimpers of fear and pain. She kicked in the door. There, upon the bed, lay a maid; lashed at wrist and ankle, in full spread upon her belly, with her face pressing down into the soiled tick. And aboard her, lay a Horanaurk, brutally imposing the most debauched and unnatural rutting upon her trembling body. He leapt to his feet, and turned; only to embrace the dreadful, slicing sword stroke that spilled out his entrails down about his knees. But this time, Artanis gifted him not, the merciful release. She left him writhing upon the floor of the chamber; daring not gift too sturdy a scream, 'less the remains of his wet and glistening tripes tumbled out of him; so neatly had she paunched this vermin. She cut the maid's bindings and moved to the next chamber. There, she found a Horanaurk standing before a maid, forced down upon her knees; his hands clenching at her corn-gold hair as he demanded she gift him her fully degrading, and humiliating homage with her lips. About the chamber were emplaced many looking glasses; so the Horanaurk might watch, from diverse positioning; his brutal carnal tyranny of this maid. And, in this; was the sum of his undoing.

The maid spied the image of Artanis, and the sweeping cut of the sword blade in approach in one of the looking glasses. She crouched her head, and felt the wind off the blade kiss her hair as the chamber rang with his screaming. As the blade bit into his belly, it also sundered both his hands above his wrists. Were that not enough; as his grip fled from her, the maid snapped her little sharp teeth together upon him, biting through his prowess as he fell; clutching at himself with hands that were not there.

The Horanaurk let forth the most terrible screaming and shrieking as he thrashed and flailed about on the floor. The maid spat out the gristly, bloated lump of flesh onto the floor and wiped away the spatter of black blood from her face and lips with the back of her hand; gifting Artanis a slim, and evil smile. Then she turned to the stricken Horanaurk who lay; his entrails all about him; for having no hands, he could not hold them into his sundered belly. Slowly laying her foot upon the glistening, steaming guts, she dragged them across the rough floorboards of the chamber, so the splinters would tear and pierce them through as he shrieked in his dooming; rolling them under her feet, and then stamping down upon them.

Swiftly now... for such noise must have alerted those in remain; Artanis progressed the other chambers. But so beset with their lustful rutting, were the other Horanaurks; perhaps, they thought it were the cries of the other maids' despoilment. Thus, Artanis prevailed in the singularly swift paunching of another five of such vermin that she found therein. Eight Horanaurks were here gifted the embrace of the Wiccen Rede Death blow... seven were denied a merciful release.

To the terrible noise of the gutted Horanaurks' frantic shrieking and screaming, as death forsook them for a while; the captive maids were gathered, and shepherded below stairs. Here, they were given swift leave to attend their ablutions, whereby they might wash away all trace of their Horanaurk defilers. Washing clean their memories might well take a much sturdier span in passing.

Whilst they so attended to themselves, Eldamar broached the issue of Artanis's manner of swordplay. He had seen most of the dreadful strokes a blade might gift, but this… this was a newness; and it was a horrible newness at that. This stroke was crafted to lay the most shrieking and lingering pain upon its victim. Wherefrom, was she schooled in this thing? Artanis regarded him with steady, solemn gaze, and then spoke,

'What you would call this most dreadful of sword strokes, is the retribution of the Cabal of Bradda that befalls those who would defile the Fellowship of the Wiccen Rede. It is a covenant of retribution embracing each, and every one of our sisters throughout all these lands. It was fashioned far back in times distant and past, when the Sisterhood of The Wiccen Rede were persecuted by the Suhai masters. They were tortured, and burnt alive for denying Suhai lasciviousness that was laid about the younger sisters. Those who might, fled into the Hills of Tillethmhor, where they raised the beginnings of the settlement of Bradda.'

Eldamar paid heed. The Suhai again! So, t'was not just Amriath that they had strived to ruin... but she was speaking again.

'The Sisters rode patrols in seek of marauding Suhai. A watch was kept throughout Arfeiniel. One day, as the patrol rode the distant shores of the Great Northern Sea, they came upon a Corsair, whose galley had been wrecked upon some far distant, rocky shore. He had been cast upon the sands by the sea. He was half-dead, but they brought him to Bradda and nursed him to his vigour once more. T'is the tell, that he had about him a great sword in receipt of a curved blade that he called by name, a "Seax." This Corsair remained with the Sisters, and t'is said; was a forebear of Ainariel Fefalas, The Revered Mother; she, whom you met in company with Feawen Arcamen.

He taught this manner of fighting to the Sisters, and crafted swords for them, close in kind to his Seax, but not the same. And so, the skill and the knowing is passed down from mother to daughter; and it is a most singularly efficacious destruction to those who richly deserve the same.'

The maids were returning from their ablutions. It was plain to see that they were beset with fright and worry. Eldamar asked of them, why such concern? Their despoilers were destroyed; there were no more in this place. The maid whom Artanis had found upon her knees... she, who had bestowed upon her Horanaurk defiler the catechism of her teeth, spoke. Her words held a faint trace of Shah'Algethi; the tongue of the Golden, or Sunrise Algethi… Highborn and Noble.

'I am Laurana; once, Princess of Astalan. Now, I am known by name, in this place as "Hetenloske Mahok"; or, as I would say to you in the common tongue: "The Yellow-Haired Slut" by these barbarians who come here to slake their lust upon us.'

Artanis hearkened to Laurana, and spoke.

'Why then, are you so demeaned by name?'

Laurana laid the tell of this thing…

'A small span of time ago, there were brought to this place, two sisters; neither of them holding above ten and six, perhaps, ten, and seven summers. They had been taken as they prosecuted partisan disobedience to the will of the tyrant Berenvag. This place is the Naigias of his Covert Militia… The Galdor of Valdarthost. It is no more than a place of rape and despoilment. The sisters' names were Cirnelle and Seremela. They were brought to this place by a squadron of Galdor Militia riders who dragged them above stairs; roped them to the dirty ticks, and then formed regimented line to despoil them, complete. The two maids were each then pillaged by more than one score of these animals, one after the other; until they were all rent and torn within, and the blood bubbled out of them. Yet, still they were brutally defiled, until all had sated their lust. This done, the two maids were cut loose and thrown into some corner, as like some cast-away garments. They bled for fully five moons in passing, until they at last, embraced their freedom in their dying.'

Hearing this tell, Artanis held eye, cold and dangerous; as Eldamar had seen once before... the same look she held when he told her of the fate of Feawen Arcamen. Laurana took up the tell again.

'I am the elder maid here, and I elected that for my part, I would stand accommodation to these barbarians who sought the more diverse of carnal attractions, rather than have my younger sisters so prevailed upon. Thus, the singular carnal artistry of "The Yellow-Haired Slut" is much coveted by these Galdor vermin. I elected that there would be no more Cirnelles or Seremelas in this place.'

She beheld the look upon their faces, and continued.

'Stand not in pity for me; t'is not so bad. Sometimes, if I tight close my eyes, and escape in my imagination, why… t'is close to pleasurable in part; with the less barbaric of them… and when t'is done, then all that is needed is a pitcher of hot water, and I am the same as I was before.'

She then laid complete the tell of the tyrant Berenvag; of the "Tur-anion," who subjected all to his will, and of his covert Militia … "The Galdor of Valdarthost," whose remit was to suppress and crush any shadow, or hint of disloyalty in action, word, or even thought; of those in thrall to his Dominion.

'And now,'

She said;

'I think you have no grasp of ponder in what you have accomplished here, this day. These animals that you have destroyed in most gratifying a manner were the Galdor Huskaars, or Overseers of the lands about here. They subjugated us into believing that they were all-powerful; that they could not be gainsaid in their designs. But now, you have shown that they are 'naught more than loathsome vermin to be crushed betwixt finger and thumb.'

Laurana then called the maids to her, and laid thought that the time stood fair to prosecute revenge upon such Galdor barbarians as they might find. Not only for themselves, but for Cirnelle and Seremela. It stood plain that she held sway in this place, for all assented to this. It mattered not, the risk of being taken as Partisan; nor the dreadful doom they would embrace if they were so taken. Eldamar and Artanis made sturdy assay to dissuade this stand; but they stood fully gainsaid by the maids.

So then; the carcasses of the Galdor Huskaars were thrown from out the chamber casements into the courtyard, and thence cast into the midden pit of the farmstead. The maids then attired themselves in the raiments of the Galdor Huskaars, and took to hand their weapons. These were the singularly capable crossbows which loosed a bolt specific, called by name: "Quarrel"; which had a head-tip that was square and viciously pointed. This design of heavy bolt breached all armour, even the toughest plate. It could lay doom upon its victim from close, a quarter-league distant. Laurana then spoke to Eldamar.

'We shall ride out with you to prosecute our mayhems. If we are beset by the Kaarok spies in the sky, they shall perceive that we are the ride of Galdor Huskaars bringing you in as captive to the Citadel of the tyrant Berenvag. In this, we may progress by stealth to lay the doom upon these barbarians, and too; gift you safe passage in thanks for what you have done for us this day.'

There was no more to be said. The maids mounted the Horanaurk horses and rode out in surround of Eldamar and Artanis, as if they were indeed captive. They had, but compassed but a league or so; when they spied two riders in approach. The riders wore the same raiment as did they. Here came two more Galdor Huskaars in approach to the farmstead to take of their pleasure. The sun was in their faces as they made approach the ride of Galdor Huskaars, or what they imagined were the same. And it was the last imagine they would make. The truth was not known to them even as they tumbled out of their saddles with crossbow quarrels in their throats.

Laurana made dismount, and stood above them as they retched out their last breaths. Then, taking a dagger from her belt, she carved a letter "C," betokening Cirnelle, into the forehead of the first, and then, turning to the other; carved a letter "S," betokening Seremela; into his forehead. And here then; was the cypher of "The Partisan, Yellow-Haired Slut" birthed at the first. All who would fall to her would be so marked with one of these letters, in manner the same... each, and every one; in recompense to the two young maids who, embracing such a terrible doom; had died in her arms in that evil farmstead. Soon enough, would the barbarians come to whisper in fear, the name: "Vagehal Hetenloske Mahok" as they called in their own tongue, "The Partisan, Yellow-Haired Slut," whilst they sat in their Halls in the dark of the night.

As they rode south, there was much dispute, and not a little dissent that the crossbows were too merciful for these Galdor vermin. The maids voiced intent that they would wish to seek learning of this dreadful sword stroke that Artanis had laid upon their tormentors. But there were no swords, other than the captured Kelek-Berskers; and these were most singularly sloven in their crafting for this endeavour. Perhaps, if they came upon a forge in one or other of the settlements that lay before them; then, might not the Kelek-Berskers be reworked into something that would be more fitting to the purpose?

Eldamar pondered; 'Aye, they could be so reworked, but they needs must find a smithy to progress such task. T'was like, as not, there would be none hereabouts. They would be either slaughtered, or would have made good on their legs in fleeing. One of the maids spoke;

'My Lord; my father was smithy, and many times I have watched his skill. I can lay a fair forge bed, if such is there for the laying.'

Eldamar communed with Artanis on this matter. What design would be needed to gift prevailment of purpose to the Kelek-Berskers? Artanis made study of the evil Darkling blade. Then, she smiled.

'Why, t'is no more than a sturdy billhook... a singularly coarse weapon. If this spike at the head is made flat with heat and hammer, and then edged upon both the forward and rearward sides; then, it will stand, as like, a dagger upon the end of the blade. The blade is coarse and sturdy. It will still afford dreadful hewing to its victim if it is so re-worked. The fresh-edged spike will gift fearful slice and tearing open of any belly it is laid across in sweeping swing.'

She smiled; a cold and frightening smile.

'It is not elegant, as is my blade; but it will prevail. With tutorment in this; then a most dreadful paunching might be gifted to such Galdor vermin as can be found. For this spike will rip and tear their guts out of them, far beyond the tumble and spill of their entrails about their knees, as would be gifted by simple belly slitting.'

So, now stood the need to prospect for a forge. There were none in the first few settlements they came upon. All that there was; was as there had been before. The settlements were sprinkled with sprawling corpses, burned dwellings, and slaughtered livestock. The fields were all torched, and the wells were all polluted. Eldamar was a little downhearted. Was this all there would be? Had the Mordbrood so ravaged this land, that all they would see were carcasses? How might they elicit counsel as to where stood Rhonas-Mhoir, deep in the Shire of Ardaltun if their only guides held no breath with which to gift the tell? And, for certain-sure; the dead held small measure of breath.

His ponder was snatched from him by a warning cry from one of the maids. There, in the sky above the smoky-blue hills, was a speck... a speck that came onwards at a sturdy measure of pace. As it came closer, they saw it was a Kaarok. Now, their subterfuge would stand to the test. Eldamar and Artanis passed their reins to two of the maids and clasped their hands behind themselves; as if they were captive bound.

The Kaarok wheeled above them; gazing down with the same watchful, mean stare as they had seen before. Laurana raised her crossbow in salute, as did one or two of the others; as if the sight of this great flesh-eating abomination looming above them was of but small concern. Why, they were the ride of Galdor Huskaars... Masters of this place. But, even so; they were hard pressed to hold brave face as their flesh crept under the creature's bilious green gaze.

The Kaarok circled about, and then drifted above them in distrustful survey of the band of riders below. It circled and wheeled about them, holding them in careful watch; then lifted up and flew clumsily into the north; seeming content that this was indeed, a ride of Galdor Huskaars going about their lawful business. Laurana and the maid who had taken the reins, made to hand the same back; but Eldamar gainsaid their offering. T'was prudence to bide a while, 'till they were certain-sure. He held no trust in anything that was for The Darkness. So they rode on a pace. Suddenly, a shadow fell across them. They glanced up, and there was the Kaarok once more. It had turned, and followed in trailment... as if to make certain sure what it had seen was the truthing, and not some cozen. Again, the maids raised crossbow in salute; the Kaarok saw all was as it was before. It turned again, and this time, flew straight into the north, its suspicion placated. The Kaarok was indeed a witless creature, but it had showed it possessed cunning. It would be well to hold remembrance of this, as they progressed onwards.

Within the span of a Sundial shadow, they came upon another settlement. As with the rest, it was deserted. A few carcasses sprawled about the place; otherwise, it was as silent as the tomb. The thatches had all been fired; as had the fields all about. But, then; there came to their sight, what might be the smithy's abode. There stood a water trough outside; horseshoes were scattered about; and within… they discovered the ruined carcass of what might have once been the smithy.

He stood, or rather... hung; lashed by his wrists to the great main roof beam. He had been grievously whipped. His back was all scoured and stripped, and 'naught but shreds of flesh remained. All that had been his back was spattered about upon the floor at his feet. The broken remains of his ribs glittering in the dim light. His lungs hung out of his back like some pigs' bladders; the like of which, one would expect a Court fool to wave about upon a stick. Three of the maids threw retch into the corner at the sight. But… the forge bed was laid; the bellows were unspoiled.

The carcass was cut down and laid gently in the corner of the forge. With tinder-box and kindling, Eldamar fired the forge. Two of the maids laid their might upon the bellows; and soon enough, the forge-bed glowed brightly. Now, could the Kelek-Berskers be reshaped to the design of Artanis. As the heat rose, the first blade was thrust into the heart of the forge-bed.

Meantime, Laurana and another maid laid careful watch without. Their crossbows were cocked and latched, and the armour-cleaving quarrels emplaced thereto. They could prosecute doom upon such riders who might approach, to the span of a quarter-league. Yet, such smoke as rose from the forge might well be disdained as some lingering smoulder. As it was, no riders made approach. Nothing moved out there; nothing at all. The sky was clear, and the land stood deserted. Within the passing of one more Sundial shadow span, there stood seven Kelek-Berskers that were not now Kelek-Berskers. Within another Sundial shadow, the flattened spikes held wicked edge upon both sides. These were the Horanaurk gutters; these would prevail well in the gifting of the shrieking doom.

Eldamar and Artanis prospected the settlement for some manner of animal carcass with which to test the design. They found no livestock. What they did find were six Horanaurk carcasses. These six had prosecuted their pillage apart from the Horde and perhaps, had been cut down by some settler, or settlers more gifted in skill with blade, than they. The six were dragged back and emplaced; tied up against the side wall of the forge. Artanis stood, and showed the maids how the dreadful sword-stroke should be executed. Each maid took Kelek-Bersker in hand and followed her movement.

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When Artanis thought them prepared; she pointed to the first Horanaurk carcass and said the first maid should strike. This, she did; swinging the blade as she was tutored, across the belly of the carcass. The flattened spike ripped into the flesh, laying it open; tearing and gouging out the entrails which tumbled onto the ground, having been shredded in part by the sharpened edge of the spike. The maid dropped the Kelek-Bersker, and turning, most pale of countenance; retched violently at the sight of the destruction she had wrought.

Gruesome as this was; each in their turn, the maids laid forth the dreadful sweeping blow to the Horanaurk carcasses with the re-forged Kelek-Berskers. At length, there were, but two of the maids; Cailyn and Leoana, who could not abide the sight of tumbling entrails. So then; they would embrace the crossbows.

Meantime; as they made practise and debate of this thing, Yara… the maid whose father was smithy, had repaired to the forge. She was beset with a sturdy notion concerning the crossbows. She had watched how consummately vexsome they were for the maids to span, and she held an impudent thought of how this conundrum might have ease settled upon it. She had seen, in her father's forge; how he raised great weights of metal and such, by means of an iron bar resting upon a sturdy block. This he had called a Lever. If some manner of lever might be attached to the crossbow, perhaps, to move back and forth... and yet another be attached by a loose rivet to the same; then, if this second bar was formed into a hook at its nether reach; perhaps, by laying the bowstring into the hook, and pulling upon the lever... the crossbow could be fully spanned with small imposition.

Yara elected that she would progress this thought whilst the forge still prevailed in its heat. In the span of the passing of some two Sundial shadows, this engine was crafted, and attached to the first crossbow. Now she would see if her notion stood fair. She laid the head of the crossbow upon the forge floor; slipped her foot into the head stirrup, and attached the lever hook to the bowstring. Then, laying hand to lever-the first; she drew it towards her. The bowstring spanned rearward as easily as drawing a fine glove of kid leather upon the hand, and clicked into place upon the nut. The hook was then lifted free, and the sum of the engine folded to the flank of the crossbow stock, as if it had always been there.

Yara smiled. Her notion stood true. But, what if she laid a second leaf of spring to the first? Would the ease of drawing still prevail? Another leaf of spring would make this a most fearsome weapon. No armour would ever prevail against the heavy quarrels, and the killing distance would be manifestly greater. So, she turned again to the forge.

Much later, Yara came forth from the forge bearing this crossbow. She had added to the head, a banding of metal that possessed two sturdy legs which folded downwardly to accomplish the ground beneath the crossbow. This was to give the archer leave to lie upon the ground, and take measured aim at such prey as was in view. The legs would deny any waver in aim. To this end, she had affixed to the head of the crossbow, a bracket standing astride the quarrel channel. This bracket was beset by a slim circle of metal through which, the archer might spy and centre aim upon the target. Yara showed all these things to Laurana, who said she might demonstrate how this would prevail.

Yara lay upon the ground and pulled back upon the lever. The bowstring spanned back and locked upon the nut. She folded down the legs at the head, and slipped quarrel to notching. Taking sighting through the circle of metal, she chose a tree; close on one- third of a league distant. Laurana watched, with raised eyebrow.

Yara squeezed the trigger and loosed the quarrel. The air shrieked as the heavy bolt sped away. As they watched, Yara hooked the lever and spanned the bowstring rearwards again. A new quarrel was then notched, and again… the same shriek as it was loosed away. And all this, in the measure of time it would take to span bowstring but once, upon a common crossbow!

Laurana mounted and rode out to the distant tree. The others kept a careful watch all about as she distanced herself at gallop. At the tree she paused awhile, then, she was galloping in the return. She drew in rein before Yara, and regarded her with a solemn gaze. Beset with anxiousness, Yara attended her judgement. Then, Laurana slowly smiled; saying:

'The first quarrel stands in yonder tree to such measure that scarcely, three finger spans of shaft stand forth to the eye. The second lies in manner the same; being no more than single finger-span from the first. Indeed, Yara; you have crafted a most fearsome weapon to our advantage; for the barbarians possess no thing with which they might elude their doom in this thing.'

Laurana then said Yara should repair to the forge and craft such parts as would be the require to embellish the crossbows in remain. Yara laughed, saying:

'My Lady; thought you I should squander such span in passing, by crafting but the one whilst the heat of the forge-bed yet prevailed? There are parts enough for all the crossbows; even to leafing springs of diverse pull-weights. I shall gather them up and prevail with their melding together into the whole.'

Laurana pondered, and then said;

'I think not. We should not tarry here. There is a forge at a place I know, that is called by name: Amberdrove. There, you may prosecute this endeavour. Your father tutored his daughter well; and for this, you shall be our armourer.'

She called the maids together and said they should bury the ruined Horanaurk carcasses deep in the midden pit of the forge, and then they would leave this place. As they rode out, Artanis and Laurana made commune on the manner in which Laurana, would prosecute this partisan endeavour. There were, but seven maids in company, and this was a perilous venture for so small a band. Laurana made reply:

'There are many of these Horanaurk Naigias scattered about this land. We shall prosecute doom upon these Galdor barbarians to free our sisters in manner the same as you did to us. Soon enough, shall our band grow sturdy in number. Then, we shall lay the shrieking doom upon all such vermin as we shall encounter.'

But, where would they garrison this partisan band? Laurana smiled,

'I know of such a place, deep in the Forest of Aldreth. My father held a Hunting lodge there. The Darkling barbarians would never find it; for even if they did; t'would be the last thing that they would ever do. For Amberdrove, as it is called; is close-watched by a fearsome guardian.'

Artanis laid question; where was this place? Laurana made reply; The Forest of Aldreth lay some five leagues to southerly-east; crouching beneath the smoky-blue hills that lay to their view, even now. The Hunting lodge called Amberdrove lay half-a-league within. They would progress there now. Should the Kaarok make return, t'would seem that the ride of Galdor Huskaars was progressing towards the Citadel of the tyrant Horanaurk, Berenvag.

So it was; they rode the ruined plain of Astalan; and none there, to confound their ride. Soon enough, within the space of two Sundial-shadows; the Forest of Aldreth lay before them. As they stood without the deep greening, Laurana spoke:

'Move you not a muscle, nor draw too sturdy a breath; for we are watched.'

Then, she made dismount, and walked to the edge of the greening. She stood, and made call. The call had no words; t'were more like some part of a lullaby as a mother would gift to her infant. T'was a soft cooing... as like some dove might make. There came a stirring in the greening, and from within, came a great cat. It laid gaze upon them; a long, unblinking, golden gaze. The great cat's coat was the hue of set honey, and it stood a full two-cubits reach to shoulder. Its ears bore tufts to their nether points, and it stood upon sturdy, clawed paws. It bestowed upon them, a growl of warning. Laurana stepped forth, reaching out her hand, and then, snapping her fingers…

'Shonah... to me; Come!'

The great cat made lope towards her; then... it ran forward and leapt upon her, tumbling her to the ground. Eldamar and Artanis both made to draw sword, and then; they did not. For the great cat was sporting with Laurana; as would any hearth-cat to its Mistress. And Laurana was laughing... they had not seen her laugh since they freed her from that loathsome place. The great cat nuzzled and licked at her face, purring all the while. It tumbled with her in the grass, tousling her hair with its great front paws. At length, she called halt to this rough and tumble; accomplishing her feet, whilst the great cat leaned and brushed against her, purring all the while. Laurana looked to them; standing as they were, in full amaze.

'My beautiful Shonah; is she not magnificent?'

Eldamar regarded the great cat with deepest suspicion. He knew what this creature was. It mattered not that Laurana held it in the same regard as would a youngling, her pet kitten. It was the most fearsome of all wild cats in Amriath and the Kingdoms in surround. This creature was an Astalanic Golden Puma. This was a creature that had been visioned in the Dreaming of The High Goddess Elaiana to be a peerless killer; nothing more, and nothing less.

The great cat held Eldamar in a golden, unblinking stare. T'was as if it could read his thinking. Laurana watched the wary countenance of Eldamar, and laughed, saying;

'Hold not any concernment, My Lord. Shonah has ever been my friend and guardian. My father brought her to me when she was, but a tiny cub. Her mother was despatched in the hunt, and he brought her to me for safe-keeping. We have grown together, she and I; but I have seen her not, for close an age in passing... not since I was taken by the barbarians. And is she not well pleased to see me once again?'

Eldamar regarded the great cat with a jaundiced eye. No matter what aspire Laurana held... this creature was a killer; finely honed as the sweetest sword-blade. He would keep his counsel in this matter, but elected not turn his back upon this creature of more than the slimmest moment in passing.

Making dismount from their steeds; led by Laurana and the great cat, they progressed into the forest. T'was not long before they came upon the first scattered bones that lay strewn about. Here, Shonah had prosecuted in sturdy sum, her guardianship of this place. These bones were Horanaurk... here, a torn off arm; there, a crushed, and shattered skull. Any and all Darklings that had broached the forest had been taken. It was not for nothing, Laurana said; that no Darkling now dared to make step into the greening.

At length, the Hunting lodge of Amberdrove loomed before them. Eldamar had not known quite what to expect, but whatever it was, t'was not this. But then... Amberdrove was a Royal Hunting Lodge. At the first; there stood before them a great stone wall; being some twenty-cubits in standing, and compassing the Hunting Lodge all about. Before them stood the great oaken gates spanning a sturdy Gatehouse. They entered therein, and the surprise was complete. Within the compass of the walls stood, not so much a Hunting lodge; more a Great Hall, with roof of stone and the walls sturdy-buttressed all about. It stood as an open square, having, but three sides. The Hall formed the nether side, and subordinates stood to left and to right; being kitchens, granaries; the forge, and stables. Within the compass of these subordinate buildings lay a great, open courtyard, all paved with great flagstones.

The Hall itself spanned perhaps, sixty-cubits from end to end, and close, half of that sum in deeping. The casements were all mullioned in stone, and a gallery was thrown across the reach of the upper floor. There, before them, stood a great, carved portico embracing a stout oaken door. They entered therein. And this, they called a Hunting lodge? Within the welcoming chamber stood a great stairway leading to the chambers above. To the left, and to the right, were great, galleried, Dwelling Halls; each and all, panelled in oak, and in walnut. Each possessed a great fire hearth of carved stone, and the floors were flagged with marble. Eldamar had never seen the like, even in all the Halls and Palaces in his knowing. Yet, this was not the finest thing here to see.

Laurana led him abovestairs to a singularly opulent chamber. This had been her father and mother's chamber. The whole was cased with carved panels of flawless Amber. It glowed in the light of the sun, streaming in through the casement. T'would be as like, sleeping in the embrace of the rays of the Sun. Laurana said this would be the chamber he would share with Artanis whilst they remained in Amberdrove.

Progressing the diverse chambers abovestairs; it stood plain, that if such chambers were divested of such singular beds as they contained and laid as if, garrison quarters; then above one score, and ten... perhaps, two full score might be contained therein, in common accord.

Leaving the containment of the lodge, they repaired to the gardens thrown about the rear of the Hall. These gardens spanned in depth, close one-eighth of a league; compassed all about by the sturdy stone wall. Here, was not just a garden; here were meadows of grain and fodder; here, was a burgeoning spring that tinkled merrily down through terraces to a tranquil, deep pool. Here, were all manner of plantings of trees and vegetables.

Eldamar saw why Laurana thought to make Amberdrove the Partisan stronghold. It could hold in singular prevailment for such span of time as need be, as long as the spring held sound. For, with the waters of the spring, the meadows and gardens would flourish. No Siege laid here, could ever succeed. Those within the walls could prevail far beyond any who might besiege them.

The Hunting lodge and its surround were also defendable. The compassing stone walls were gifted with a corbelled stone bratticing, striding all along the inner reaches of the walls in sum. From here, the defenders could impose doom upon attackers in manner the same as if it were a besieged fortress. For, in simple truth, Amberdrove was more a Fortress than it was a Hunting lodge.

The maids' horses and Starshadow were put to stable. These too, were singularly spacious; but then, they were built sturdy, to accommodate the mounts of Royal Hunting parties. Therein, were great containment pens, still filled with hay and oats. By reason of the sturdy build of the stables; all was yet sweet and unspoiled, 'though all had languished here at least for three summers. Laurana told that the Palace of Astalan had been breached by Berenvag and his War-host, some three summers past. Her father and mother, in company with her, and her younger sister had ridden to Amberdrove, protected by a squadron of the Royal Guard.

In approach, they were fallen upon by a company of Galdor Huskaars. Her father and mother, together with the Royal Guard were slain; she, and her sister had been laid into thrall in the Horanaurk Naigias; there, to pleasure the barbarians. Amberdrove was never found by the Mordbrood as they pillaged northwards. With good cause; they held great fearing of what prowled the Forest of Aldreth, and thus, ventured not therein.

Eldamar asked of her sister. Laurana replied, there was no knowing where Sanya... for that was her name; was held. There were some six Horanaurk Naigias compassed about that part of Astalan; she might be in any one. One thing, though, was certain-sure. She would be found. The Horanaurk Naigias would be the targets for their raiding. Here, they would free all captive maids that were to be found therein. In this, then, would they fatten the Partisan band. The Princess Sisters of Astalan would ride again in company, to prosecute revenge upon the Galdor vermin for their misuse, and for the deaths of their parents.

Meantime, Yara had repaired to the forge, to begin fitment of the parts she had crafted to the remainder of the crossbows. The forge was most singularly perfect for the fettling of Arms. All the tools she would ever need were to be found here, and the forge-bed was the finest she had ever seen. The great bellows was linked to cunning levers, and thence, to a great shaft which pierced the nether wall. Beyond this, the shaft was coupled to a water-wheel, fed by a deep millrace from the pool beneath the spring. Thus, was there no require for bellowing with vigour; all was gifted by the turning of the water wheel.

The forge-bed was cunningly contrived; needing small sum of the charcoals laid therein. In this, the white heat might be accomplished in a slender measure of time. When done, the ash and spoil could be raked away, by reason of a shallow slotting to the base of the forge-bed, wherethough the ashes might be dropped into the spoil pile beneath.

She laid the forge-bed as her father had taught her... kindling first; and then, the charcoals. She struck spark to kindling with tinder and flint, and watched as the kindling took to cheerful glow. As the flame rose, she pulled upon a lever hard by the side of the forge, and with squeak and rumble, the water-wheel began to turn. The levers progressed up and down, and the bellows began to gift blow to the charcoals. Faster the levers danced - harder the bellows breathed; and the forge-bed began to glow brightly. In, but the span of a quarter Sundial-shadow, it glowed white.

Yara needed only to craft the rivets to join together the two levers of the crossbows as she had so done with the first. She laid a rod of Iron into the heat and watched until it glowed cherry red. Then, t'was to the anvil, to cut lengths from it with hammer and chisel. This done, all were laid to heat once more. Each length was then taken to the anvil. In the anvil tail... to the rear of the anvil table, were bored holes; one being square, and the remainder being round... in sizes diverse. These were for piercing horseshoes therethrough to fashion the nail holes. Each portion of rod was laid in its turn, into the hole specific to its size. Then a hammer of three cloves weighting was gifted to flatten a rivet head upon this length of rod.

At length, all the portions of iron rod lay crafted with one end formed into a rivet head. They were then laid back into the forge-bed to gather heat, whilst the diverse levers were laid ready in pairs. There, too, upon the bench were laid thin discs of iron with their centres bored thorough with holes. These, Yara's father had called washers. One was to be emplaced beneath each rivet head so that the head would not bind and chafe upon the metal that it held together. Thus, when the rivet had gathered heat to cherry redness, it was laid upon the anvil face. A washer was laid over it, and then the two levers were placed thereon, with one more washer betwixt them. One further washer was then fitted, and the whole hammer-struck with a forge hammer of some six cloves in weighting. The rivet was flattened with care to form one more head at its nether end, until the sum were close- clenched together, yet still gifted freedom of movement to the levers. They would not now easily come asunder, held as they were by the rivet. This skill, Yara's father had called "Peening." Duly, all the levers were thus assembled and made ready for fitment. Now, she turned her hand to the fitment of leafing spring to the "Prod"... the curious named "Prod" being the bow portion of each crossbow.

As she had winnowed the forge for slender Iron rod; or perhaps, shoeing nails with which to craft the rivets; she came upon a curious store of metal. It held hue of a blueish-grey, being heavy to excess; and seeming soft for metal. Now, a fearsome sentiment formed in her thinking. In her father's forge, she had listened as he had communed with the armourers and fletchers who came to him for arrowheads and crossbow quarrels. They all elicited that his work be tempered sweet. It was not beyond the realms of knowing for slovenly-tempered pointings to spread as they struck armour, which decried them proper piercing.

In this; her thinking lay thus: Crossbow bolts and quarrels held small imposition to be drawn out from woundings, by reason they were not barbed. The nature of the bowstock denied this. If over-soft Iron spread upon striking armour; would not quarrels tipped with this curious metal, spread in manner the same, whence they struck these Galdor vermin? For these barbarians wore no armour, save sturdy leather; and it was, as like, that the force of the sturdy-loosed quarrel might pierce deep into their flesh, as it so spread. This would perhaps, fully deny ease of drawing forth of the quarrel... as if, t'were barbed neat. But, how to so tip a quarrel?

Yara gifted this conundrum sturdy thought as she affixed the leafing springs to the Prods. Then came the answer. If she cut the square head from off the quarrel, and then made a singularly careful boring to the remains of the shaft; and quarrel heads were moulded from this curious blueish-grey metal in measure, specific, to slip snugly into the boring; there, they would hold, perhaps, strengthened with a pin pierced through the flanks of both. Such a pin would pass from one side of the quarrel shaft to the other, and if, filed smooth; would not impede the flight of the same. Further; if the tip of the blueish-grey pointing were hollowed; then perhaps, if beset thus, with a sharpened edge all about the girth of the tip; this would ease the passing of the tip through such cloth and leather as these barbarians would wear, and not cause the soft tip to spread before it had pierced them to sturdy deeping.

What Yara could not know was this: In her bright, and open mind, here… by chance, she had conceived a most dreadful weapon with which to smite the Darklings. Perhaps, t'would prove to be more dreadful yet, than the black powder of the Khallis Master Alchemists that had laid such terrible, flailing doom upon the Mordbrood at the assault on Rhom; and again, with Beckstrider's Gambit in the dropping of Windlemoss Crag upon the heads of the second Mordbrood Host. But the sum of this conceiving was not for now. For now, the need stood to furnish the remainder of the captured crossbows with Yara's 'bellishments in manner, the same as the first crossbow. Soon enough, the crossbows in remain all stood fortified and beset with the cunning levers in manner as did the first.

Now, she turned to the quarrels, and within a pair of spans of Sundial-shadows; there lay on the forge bench, eight blunted and soft-nosed harbingers of a dreadful doom. Yara had thought that the pointings, beset as they were with the strange, soft, blueish-grey metal, might deny the ease of drawing out the quarrel from the wound. This, as she would see in due course, would be the slimmest imposition that such a quarrel would impose upon its victim.

The next morning, Laurana said they should prove this new weapon. And where better than the Naigias that lay some three leagues to south of the Forest of Aldreth? They would ride out and lay in wait for such Galdor Huskaar vermin that chose to prevail themselves of their pleasure in this place. Laurana called four maids to her. They would each arm with a crossbow... but with common quarrels. Yara would arm with the crossbow possessing most sturdy of throw, and use her freshly-crafted quarrels. So they rode out, and within a short span… with mounts held cloaked in the tree line; settled themselves upon the hillside above the Naigias. There, they lay in wait, the passing of the span of the morning.

Their pleasant repose in the warm sunlight was breached in due course by the sound of horses. They took station amongst the long grasses, and spied a parcel of Galdor Huskaars in approach. There were six in number, and they rode indolent; never expecting the manifestation of doom that would soon be laid upon them. They reined in before the Naigias, made dismount, and idled without for a while. One Horanaurk led off the horses to stable. The Galdor Huskaars jested of their proposed despoilment of the captive maids within as they made to turn towards the door of the Naigias. They would not have laid jest so lightly if they had but known that each of them was held in the sight of a crossbow.

At Laurana's signal, each maid loosed her quarrel at her victim. Five Galdors fell as one. The shriek of the quarrels brought the last Horanaurk from out of the stable at a sturdy pace. They saw him cast a swift, and fearful gaze about, as he perceived his comrades sprawled before him. Then, Yara loosed her quarrel.

It did not shriek in flight, as did the others. The sound it made was more a moaning whine... much like night wind in the treetops. Though they were close on a quarter-league distant, they heard his scream as plainly as if he stood but a handful of paces before them. He crumpled, shrieking and writhing into the dust. Then he was still.

With wary prudence, Laurana and her maids made progress to the Naigias. The five Galdors lay there, cleanly shot. But, the victim of Yara was not cleanly shot. He lay upon his back, with a great pool of his black blood spreading beneath him; and his ragged, yellow teeth snarling through tight-drawn, warty lips. Upon the wall behind where he had stood, was spattered a great sum of his gore; shreds of his flesh; soft, wet things, and diverse bone shardings; all sliming down the stonework. Indeed; this misfortunate barbarian had embraced a most dreadful, and gruesome death.

Laurana gazed at him. There was, but a small puncture in his chest... but t'was singed about its edges... as if he had been struck by a night arrow. She turned him about with her foot, and there; before their wincing stare; stood the ruination of his carcass. They beheld a great hole torn in his back; close as sturdy in compass as a serving platter, wherefrom all manner of soft and mangled wet things protruded. A portion of his spine was not there to see, and the nether reaches of his ribs were all splintered away.

Most of this ruination was mingled in the splatter upon the wall, wherein the iron shaft of the quarrel had embedded itself. And this, from close on a quarter-league distant. They looked in amazement at this ruination complete, and the pair of maids turned away, pale, and retching. Yara beheld the destruction of this Horanaurk that her design had wrought; and she smiled… a cold, and shiversome smile.

They entered into the Naigias, and there, upon the floor lay the keeper; a corpulent and ugly Horanaurk female with her throat slashed across. The captive maids had prosecuted their revenge as they hearkened to the slaughter without. They stood, awaiting their liberators. There were seven in sum; none holding beyond ten, and eight summers. All elected to join with Laurana and her band; so then, they gathered the weapons of the slaughtered Galdor Huskaars, and made ready to ride out. But, there was one thing left to do.

The carcasses of the barbarians were hauled up to the rutting chambers, and thrown upon the dirty, stained ticks; one each to a chamber. Then, Laurana moved from one to the next; dagger in hand; and carved either a letter "C," betokening Cirnelle, or a letter "S," betokening Seremela, into each forehead. Those Galdors who would find the carcasses could not fail but to perceive the cypher of "The Partisan, Yellow-Haired Slut"; or, as they now called her, in their own tongue... "Vagehal Hetenloske Mahok," standing brazen upon the foreheads of their comrades. In this, they would grasp the chilling truth that no longer, were they all-powerful; that they could now be gainsaid in their designs. Here, might be sown the first seeds of fear amongst these barbarian vermin.

The liberated maids mounted the horses of the Galdor Huskaars, taking such unsoiled raiments as were to hand, and cumbered by the seized crossbows and Kelek-Berskers; rode away from the Naigias. As they progressed through the Forest of Aldreth, bound for Amberdrove, Laurana communed with Yara on this thing. T'would be of consummate advantage whilst they were so slender in number, to recur this strategy as they assaulted those Naigias in remain; and too, any Galdor Huskaars who came to their sight. This, they would call "Skirmishing" rather than the laying on of full assault. For, with their fortified crossbows and store of Yara's quarrels, why then; they could prosecute a dreadful dooming from a sturdy span of distance, and the barbarians would have no knowing by which means they were so smitten if the skirmishing maids lay in cloak in the deep grasses.

Compassed safely once more within the walls of Amberdrove, the liberated maids were given quarters. There, they might attend their ablutions to wash away the stink of the Galdor Huskaars. The memory, however, would not be so easy to cast aside.

The captured crossbows and Kelek-Berskers were taken to the forge, where Yara might craft them in manner of the first haul of weaponry.

At length, being washed and fed, the maids were gathered together by Laurana, and the tell of the endeavour was laid upon them. Each was permitted the choose of whether or not, she would join as Partisan. The tell of their fate if captured as such, was laid clearly before each. Not one maid decried fellowship. So then, time to begin the tutoring in skirmisher tactics. Artanis had watched, as the first band of maids had embraced her tutoring. She saw there was one who held a consummate skill with the re-forged Kelek-Bersker. This maid, who held name: Daeralda; would be singularly perfect for the settlement upon her as Mistress-at-Arms of this company. She could lay tutorment to such maids as would be liberated in future days.

Artanis laid her thoughts before Laurana, who found such thoughts stood well. Artanis would remain for three moons to hone the gift of Daeralda; then Eldamar and she, needs must progress onwards in search of the secluded green valley of Rhonas-Mhoir, deep in the Shire of Ardaltun. One of the freshly-liberated maids, Gliriel; told that she knew of the valley of Rhonas-Mhoir. The Shire of Ardaltun lay some twenty leagues to the south-east; behind the smoky-blue hills. But, here, was the danger; the Shire of Ardaltun stood close to the Old Palace; now, the Citadel of the tyrant, Berenvag.

The land all about was patrolled in depth, by his Guardian Cabals, the so-called "Tur-anion," who enforced his will upon those Astalanians who yet prevailed. Their progress would be fraught with danger; for any strangers were swiftly intercepted. The skies were swept in constant compass by Kaaroks. Even cloaked as Galdor Huskaars, they would be imperiled, for how could they cloak Starshadow? No creature of The Darkness rode a Unicorn.

There was much concern in this thing. Laurana pondered this; and at length, she spoke:

'There is, but one subterfuge we may yet employ to our advantage. To the southerly-west there lies a Manor house. The Mordbrood dared not draw near to this place as they pillaged the land thereabouts. The Manor is held by The Mage of Eredun. She is a mighty, and fearsome Sorceress. She holds no allegiance to either The Light, 'nor to The Darkness. In my father's time, she was harried with persecution by the County Lords for not gifting her magick to their aspirations and designs. They lay false witness upon her, and would have had her burnt as a witch. My father laid a Royal Protection upon her; for he was wise and just. Perhaps, if she yet prevails, she may furnish you aid in your quest.'

She crossed the chamber to a closeted niche in the oak panelling, pressed a latch, and opened a secret door. From within, she brought forth a delicate Amethyst signet; the stone, deeply graven with her Initial, all bewreathed with Harebell blossoms; and laid the same in Eldamar's hand.

'This is my own signet seal; that of the Princess of Astalan. Show this ring to The Mage and tell her it is my wish that she gifts you aid. She will not refuse; for, as a youngling I played at her hearth. She was once, close as my grand-dam was to me, and she will remember.'

At hearing the tell of the name of The Mage of Eredun; Artanis spoke forth:

'There is grave dispute in this thing. I have heard The Revered Mother of the Wiccen Rede Priestesses of Arfeiniel tell of this Mage. Her humour cannot be prevised. She might, as like confound our endeavour, as gift us aid.'

Eldamar contemplated the two maids. It would seem there was little choice in this thing. Laurana was speaking true; to ride Astalan in broad daylight, with prowling Darklings abroad... and more; with those singularly ugly birds quartering the skies; held not a sturdy hope of prevailing. T'would seem, on the face of it, they would better chance their fortunes with this Mage.

So it was; three moons hence, they rode out of Amberdrove to the south. The Forest of Aldreth would hold them cloaked from the sight of the prowling Kaaroks for at least, a slender measure of time. They would not breach the cover of the trees until dusk. Then, t'would be the space of a Sundial-shadow span before they accomplished the dwelling of The Mage of Eredun. T'was a barter with fate; but Eldamar hoped that the Kaaroks would not venture abroad in the glim of the dusk; for even garbed as Galdor Huskaars, there was no deny that Starshadow would lay the truth of their deceit. For, as the maid Gliriel had said; no Darkling rode a Unicorn.

Laurana had charged two of the maids to ride escort until sink of the sun; then, they would be on their own. Their progress was couched in subterfuge. As they passed out of the Aldreth tree line, the two maids had galloped forth in arrogant manner as if they were indeed, Galdor Huskaars. They accomplished a stand of trees something above a league distant, and having perceived no watchers; signalled Eldamar and Artanis to stand forth to them. This would be the ploy as they progressed south. They rode from tree clump to spinney; spinney to copse; copse to thicket.

T'was a perturbing progress; with never the knowing if a Kaarok might spy them; never the knowing if they would encounter the ominous "Tur-anion." Only once, was there a speck in the sky that turned far distant, flying north. Their good fortune prevailed, and the maids took their leave as dusk fell. Now, it would be perhaps, half-a-league to the Manor of The Mage of Eredun. With singular care, they rode on. There was no knowing what might lie in wait here. If The Mage of Eredun was as mighty a Sorceress as had been prevised, she would most certainly hold the knowing of their approach.

At length; there before them lay the Manor. And there! Waiting at the gates was a woman, garbed all in black; hooded and cloaked against the night chill. As they reined in before the gates, the woman swung them open and motioned that they should enter therein. Then she spoke:

'You are expected; Eldamar, Lord Guardian of The Light; and Artanis of The Cabal of Bradda. Tarry not without; for the Tur-anion are abroad, this night.'

A maid, dressed in doublet and breeches, took charge their mounts, and they entered into the Manor. The woman divested her cowled cloak and turned to them. She held in receipt, many summers; her hair was white, her face was lined with wisdom. She spoke:

'I am Beriana, also called The Mage of Eredun. I know of your quest from the despatch sent to me by my sister's daughter at Calverstock.'

Eldamar could not cloak his surprise. This must be Calelindi that she spoke of. But how? It must be that Calelindi had flown out her eagle to this place. But, then; how did Beriana know of Artanis? He saw the smile in Beriana's eyes. She spoke again:

'Ainariel Fefalas gifted me the knowing of your companion, my Lord Guardian, and of the great benevolence that you have laid upon the Wiccen Rede at the settlement of Bradda. There now stand twelve Cabal maids in that place, possessing bellies that will swell before comes the golden tumble of the leaves. The Cabal is secure through your endeavours, and for this, the Sisterhood gives you thanks.'

She led them into the Great Hall of the Manor and bade them be seated. The maid who had taken charge of their mounts entered, bearing a great pitcher and goblets. She was most boyish in her demeanour; even to having her hair cropped, as would a Court pageboy. Beriana smiled at their faint-cloaked curiosity.

'This is Alyx, my companion. I have never held shred of interest in males, and we share our span in bond together.'

Eldamar made to excuse their curious gaze, but she continued:

'Fear not, my Lord; there is no cause for you to to fret. I know you hold no thorn of intolerance; but t'was amusing to watch your confusion at first sight of my Alyx.'

The maid smiled, and sat beside Beriana, who then laid forth her thoughts on their endeavour.

'There is 'naught can be done to cloak Starshadow. There is no spell nor enchantment that would hold for Unicorns; being such bright creatures of The Light; but I have pondered upon this whilst I attended your coming. We cannot cloak him with magick, so we shall cloak him with War-mail. There is no dilemma in this, for I may commune with him, having never known a male; and I shall assuage his disrelish to this thing.'

Eldamar brought forth the Amethyst signet of Laurana. He asked:

'Do you remember this ring?'

Beriana's eyes widened; she took the ring and gazed at it as if t'were Moon mist and would drift away to nothingness.

'Laurana. Little Laurana; is she still alive? Where did you secure this signet?'

Eldamar smiled; saying Laurana had laid it into his hand, not six Sundial shadows since passed. He saw the tears on her face; she had thought her long dead... as were her parents. Eldamar 'nayed her; Laurana was, even now, prosecuting her revenge upon the Horanaurks. She was "Vagehal Hetenloske Mahok"… "The Partisan, Yellow-Haired Slut." Beriana's eyes became suddenly cautious. She had heard of this Partisan. Even now, the Tur-anion Death Cabals were out, combing the countryside for her. Though she had not prosecuted her partisan disobedience to the will of the tyrant Berenvag for more than a slender span of moons; she had slighted two Naigias and slaughtered the Galdor Huskaars therein, who were taking of their rightful pleasures. Or so avouched the proclamation, recently laid.

The tyrant Berenvag was not amused by this thing. His troops whispered in their quarters of the mark of the cypher of "Vagehal Hetenloske Mahok" carved into the foreheads of their fallen comrades. In this, might lie the creep of chary. It needed to be shuttered out in all haste. Better by far, for Eldamar not to lay the tell of where Laurana might be. For what Beriana did not know could not be dragged out of her, even by the Tur-anion torturers; and they were consummately gifted to drag out confessions. It was not as like that they would ever come to this place. The Mage of Eredun was held in careful regard, even by these barbarian vermin.

At length, when they had taken of refreshment, Beriana led them to the Ostler quarters of the stable. Here, she opened a great chest and drew forth horse War-mail. Eldamar recognised it at once. It was heavy cavalry mail out of Elisriendell, as last seen during the Great Suhai War. There it lay; the linkings of the mail wrought in finest Elisriendell Leissor. For Starshadow's head, there were two segments: Chanfron for his face and Crinet for his neck. For his body; three more: Peytrel for his chest, Flanchards for his sides, and Crupper for his nethermost parts. Here, Eldamar saw the guile of Beriana; for the Chanfron was beset with a mighty war-comb, and herein, they could conceal Starshadow's Horn. Beriana said his snow-white hue was of no consequence. The Galdor Huskaar Captains had a taste for white chargers.

She stood to Starshadow and made whisper to him; he looked to Eldamar, thence looked back to her, and nodded his head. Swiftly, 'else, he changed his assent; Beriana and Alyx laid the war-mail upon him, and when they were done; it was not for the knowing that he was anything other than a common, albeit imposing war-charger. Having perceived this subterfuge, they divested him of the war-mail, which was laid again in the great chest, then they returned to the Hall.

Beriana told of how she had the knowing of their arrival at her Manor. Her Sister Aistara; an Enchantress, who had lived deep in the Singing Woods of Lothluthil, had tended a Wraith-Hunter's sword from out of far Astalan. This was the same sword as was gifted by The Lord Calamar to young Eldamar; the sword that Aistara's friend, the young Sword-smith Elshore, had elicited for his master. This was the sword that held name: "Eitheltuil Eledhwen"; in short, spoke... "Eithelhwen"… "Wellspring of Algethi Light."

Aistara had journeyed to Calverstock Outpost with her daughter, when came the Suhai War; there, to read from the Glass of Revealment to lay tell of Suhai intent; and with her, she brought her bond-mate; a Captain of cavalry. This war-mail was that, with which his charger was furnished. He was lost at the cavalry charge on the field below Cirith Bhriac, where the Lothleitha heavy cavalry wiped out the Southern Suhai Horde. He now shared the Great Sleep with his Brothers-in-Arms in the mighty cairn raised in the Vale of Carasdhel. The same sword that Aistara had tended was the one which she, Beriana, now perceived scabbarded at Eldamar's side. The hilt, bepommelled with crystal; carved, as like, a Star; was plain to see... the sword could be none other.

Upon the losing of her bondmate, Aistara had remained in the Calverstock Outpost with her daughter, Calelindi. There, she had mourned him, hiding herself away; weaving her enchantments across the western lands. This was her part to hold in balance, the circle of the Wiccen Rede which bolstered The Light, and compassed all the Kingdoms and Realms of Amriath.

Beriana had journeyed into the Western Realms to comfort her sister. She had brought with her, two things. The first was the War-mail of Aistara's bond-mate's mount, which had been taken from the field of Battle below Cirith Bhriac in honour of remembrance of him; but Aistara had decried the same, saying the remembrance it laid was too dismaying to her humour. Thus, it had been brought back to the Manor.

The second thing was a young eaglet which would serve in time, as Calelindi's guardian and confidant. But this was no common eaglet; this was a Karandin Imperator eaglet. These were much prized; and thus, had been hunted almost to the last few. For these Karandin Imperator eagles were possessed of an awesome gift. They were one of the few creatures remaining that could commune with those not of their own kind. The Karandin Imperator eagles had prevailed in the far southern reaches of Astalan since the time of The First Age of The Light; remote in their high aeries in the Mountains of The Shadowed Moon.

They still held the tongue of Archaic Charybon Runic; that, which was spoken by all living things in The Time of The Beginnings. In this, they were most prized by those who had the wealth and substance to possess such rare treasures. Karandin Imperator eagles were kept as amusement; for carrying messages which needed no vexsome cyphering; and not least, for gathering intelligences concerning rivals or enemies in most covert of array. In this; by flying out her eagle, Calelindi had furnished Beriana, The Mage of Eredun, with all informations concerning The Matter of Amriath, and the coming of Eldamar.

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