Chapter Twelve.

The Smiting Down of "The Dread Imposition."

Gwythlyn crouched in an old bramble-arched, and dried-out dew pond on the edge of the Yeranoor Woldings, scarce daring to draw too sturdy a breath. She had pulled her Rhola mare down beside her, silently beseeching her not to whinny 'nor snort. She had ridden into Yeranoor to gather a few keepsakes from the Moat-tower of Ghlinngar, and her old farmstead close by. There was now no peril lurking the Woldings since the rout of the Darklings, a pair of summers since past; and she had ridden lacking escort.

She had traversed Yeranoor untroubled, and had discovered that the Moat-tower was beginning to crumble away, and her farmstead was all be-clung with Ivy. She had gathered those things for which she held sentiment, and had gathered an ample pouch of Alfirin seed from the carpet of plants that thrived within the dappled shade of the small stand of Wychwithy trees in the dale that stood before her farmstead. These, she would sow in the Shandalar Citadel garden. She hoped they would flourish, so there might ever be store of Alfirin blossoms to hand from which the efficacious Tincture might be crafted.

With all complete, she mounted her Rhola mare and rode out to the south. The rolling Yeranoor Woldings were deserted. All was quiet, save for the occasional bird cry on the soft breeze that rustled the grasses. The sun was shining; the sky was an endless azure blue, with scarce a cloud in sight. It was a beautiful day.

She was little more than three leagues from the wide flooding plains of the great River Claidell, when she saw them. They came from out of the Wastes of Plenmellar, deep in the Yeranoor Shadowlands... a black knot of riders some five leagues distant; and they were moving swiftly.

Pale, on the wind, came the hollow booming of a war-horn; for they had seen the lone rider out on the Woldings and upsurged their forward gallop to intercept this lone rider's hastening escape. Gwythlyn cast gaze about. The Forest of Raventhorn Scar was far to the west… too far to outride whomever they might be. She could not rely on any chance encounter with the Shadaiian Wraith-Hunters… not this time.

Gwythlyn knew she had, but one choice. She must ride like the wind for the flooding plains of the great River Claidell, to strike the ford at the edge of the northerly reaches of Lankriggen Forest. She laid heel to her Rhola mare and made wild, and reckless gallop into the south. She saw the lead riders wheeling in pursuit. She saw that they did not ride horses… their mounts were some manner of creature that she knew not of. They bore a likeness to... for want of better presentment… Wolverines.

She perceived at distance that their coats were brownish-black, coarse hair, with stripes of a lighter brown along their flanks. Their legs were longer than a common wolverine, and full-muscled; and the creatures possessed a blunted snout. They ran, not as does a horse; but with both legs to the one side thrown forward at the same time… and they possessed a frightensome turn of speed.

The riders were runty and thickset. They were pale…almost white of skin. Gwythlyn did not linger to make further study. She crouched over the neck of her mare and rode as if the very Hounds of the Abyss were hunting her. And in this, she was not so very far from the truthing olf this thing. These were the creatures that would come to be known as "Chutaks."

What could never be known in all the lands that lay in The Light, was this… wrathful of his thwarting, yet again; The Dreadful, Dark Entity: Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark" had elected to wipe these insolent Algethi from off the face of the land, once, and for all time. Then, he could bring forth the so-called Sath-Ninduru… the dreadful "Night of the Shadows Rising," and turn all back to Chaos, as it was in The Beginnings. To this end, he brought forth from the very bowels of The Abyss, creatures so terrible that none might prevail against them.

These creatures were "Chutaks"… merciless, and frenzied flesh-eaters. They held stature of some three cubits; being stocky and well-muscled, with short, sturdy legs, and a singularly fearsome countenance. They possessed large mouths… more lipless maws beset with sharp, needle-like teeth. They had no nose in the common manner… nor did they possess eyes with black centres. Their eyes were 'naught, but pale, yellow orbs. They wore scurvy leathern helmets, jerkins, and breeches. Each and all were armed with dreadful black Karuk blades.

Now, close on two score of these horrors laid quarry to Gwythlyn. Albeit, she rode with desperate haste, they were gaining ground. Their mounts hurtled with an easy lope. Her time was running thin. She swept over the crest of a rolling valley and was lost from their sight for a fleet span in passing. There!... A brambled hollow; and the grasses about here were a pair of cubits high, and sprinkled with tangly hawthorn and furze. If she went to ground hereabouts; to her hunters, she might be anywhere.

She swiftly chose the bramble thicket. The smell of the ripened berries might cloak the reek of horse-sweat and that, of her fear. She found within, a dried-up dew pond... 'nigh perfect for concealment. Rolling in under the clutch of the briar thorns, she pulled her Rhola mare down beside her. T'was not a moment too soon, for on the rise came the first of her hunters. She lay still…as still as if she were dead. The riders were casting about hither and thither; thrusting blade into bushes and thickets, as they winnowed the long grasses.

One of the riders was making a slow, sweeping approach to her conceal. By singular good fortune, he was up-wind of her. His creature was snuffing the air with its ugly snout. She saw that it too, had great yellow orbs where it should have had eyes; and too, had long, needle fangs. The stench of it drifted down into the bowl of the dew pond. She struggled not to retch. Her Rhola mare was rolling frightened eyes. She silently beseeched it not to move 'nor whinny in its fear. The creature was peering hard into the thick brambles.

She must be discovered in a moment… then, there came a sharp call from the leader of the band, and the gruesome rider looming above her pulled his creature about and decamped back up the rise. She heard much coarse shouting in some vile, rasping tongue, and the riders turned away.

She lay there for a lengthy span... she could not tell how long in passing. Now, all that could be heard was the whisper of the breeze in the grasses. With her teeth worrying her nether lip, Gwythlyn crawled to the crest of the rise. Raising her head with the greatest care, she made furtive glance above the crest. The riders were there… a black knot, about a league distant, moving to northerly-east. She moved back down to the bramble thicket and brought out her Rhola mare. Making mount in the hollow, she laid heel and galloped away to the south. She did not look back… she dared not look back. She rode hard; and at last, there lay before her, the River Claidell and the ford at the edge of the northerly reaches of Lankriggen Forest… once, a dangerous place; 'nigh perfect for Darklings to lurk.

But now, as she broached the ford; the old Algethi trail lay silent, before her and she knew it was, but half a league until the trail stood broader; and there, like the stump of a rotted tooth, would crouch the ruinous Ragnor Redoubt. A little further on would be the most eerie Scourings of Ragnor where stood the great burial pits thrusting out naked, as the first day they were dug forth. Not one blade of grass, and not even a sturdy weed yet grew there, the ground was so befouled with the mouldering Darklings that nothing could flourish… not even one seed. From here, there would be, but a league to accomplish the western plain of Shandalar.

She rode the Scourings of Ragnor, keeping careful watch, but there was nothing there to mar her progress. Cresting the heights, she perceived the great Shandalar Plain stretching before her, all washed in sunlight, and there! Five leagues on, stood the spires of the Citadel.

She accomplished the Citadel within the passing span of a little more than one Sundial-shadow. Cirion was waiting in the Muster yard, having been called by the sentinels. They had watched the plume of dust in swift approach from Ragnor, and guessed that it would be the Grand Duchess. As Gwythlyn clattered into the Muster yard, striking sparks from the cobbles with her mount's hooves; Cirion saw that something was amiss. The demeanour and begrimed aspect of Gwythlyn told the tale plain, that something had befallen her on her ride. She leapt from the saddle and ran to lay the truthing of it to Cirion. She told of the gruesome creatures that had hunted her. She told of her slender prevailment. They were out there prowling the Yeranoor Woldings, and they could be 'naught else but Darklings.

Cirion attended Gwythlyn's tell. So, The Darkness was prevailing yet again. Lorimer was far to the north. She must command a Merlin be flow out in despatch to gift him a forewarning. The Citadel would be secured. The Guard would be doubled. Rhom must be apprised. There was now much to be done, and perhaps, small span in passing in which to do the same.

Cirion; Ice Queen of Shandalar, sighed. Scarcely two peaceful summers since passed, and now it seemed the shadows were gathering again. She recalled her Grandfather's counsel. Always, The Darkness lay ready to engulf the Land. Always, it probed for some weakness. But there was always hope whilst The Light still prevailed. For, as Eldamar had wisely once laid tell…

"T'is sound fancy to be prudent in watchfulness, child; but, if you elect to be always looking behindwardly, then t'is as like, that all that you shall ever see shall be the shadow of your past."

Early in the morning of the morrow, that dawned bright and soft; at about the seventh Sundial-shadow, the great gates of the Citadel of Shandalar were thrown wide asunder. Two troopers galloped forth, turning into the south, and riding for the great Redoubt at the Low Riggs of Striding Edge. Leastways... so t'would seem to the common gaze; save for this... one trooper rode a mighty, white Unicorn stallion. The other rode a Rhola Bay Mare.

Queen Cirion of Shandalar, and her Armourer, Moyna, rode out in cloak of common troopers; their cuirasses and helms glittering bright in the early-morning Autumn Sun. This had ever been an efficacious deceit. None would imagine the Queen rode out in lack of stern escort. Were The Queen to ride out, then she would ride protected by a squadron, 'nay, perhaps… even a company. Thus, Cirion could dis-avail herself of any imperilment in this ploy. Two common troopers did not garner stern interest from those who might be watching. They were a mere patrol, or perhaps, a despatch ride. Two troopers were not worth the sum in concernment of intercept.

Cirion and Moyna progressed the southern plain of Shandalar unseen and unknown. Within the span of three Sundial-shadows, they were past Ling Beckside and riding down the further reach of the Low Riggs of Striding Edge. Little more than half of a league forwardly, loomed the Great Redoubt. The sentinels watched their approach, calling out their Guard Captain. He stood, hands upon hips, as the two troopers eased gallop and came into the yard of the Bastion.

He stood forward to enquire their business, and then… he did not ask. For Cirion had lifted her helm. Golden hair tumbled down, and he found himself looking into the sky-blue Agate eyes of his Queen. He opened his mouth to blurt some apology, but, the words came not to his lips, for Cirion spoke...

'La, Captain, be not a'feared. All is well. We seek passage into the High Pass of Ling, 'an you would be so inclined.'

The Captain gazed at her, as if not grasping her presence in full sum. Then, finding his voice, he gasped.

'Aye, Majesty.'

And ran to the Inner Bastion Ward, calling for the great ratcheting engines to be turned to open the gates. There came the singing of straining chains, and the great Iron-sheathed gates began to yawn asunder. The Captain returned to Cirion, in breathless accord, saying,

'You would require an escort, Majesty?'

Cirion replied,

'Nay Captain; we ride to seek out my grandfather, who… as we speak; progresses the Heights of Rhyddu. There shall be no imperilment where we venture to ride this day. Calm yourself. 'An you wish; so that none may later dispute with you, I shall lay upon you, Royal Edict not to apportion us escort. You shall, 'an the need arise, lay tell that we rode 'gainst your counsel in this matter.'

Turning away, Cirion and Moyna rode out through the great gates, wheeling to the left, into the High Pass of Ling. Some quarter- league to east from the Redoubt lay the ancient packhorse track that led up onto the northerly shoulder of the Heights of Rhyddu. Eldamar would have taken this track… up to the old Washpool of Rinan.

There was no way of knowing how far across the reaches of the Heights of Rhyddu he had accomplished, but they would seek him out with all speed. Two leagues to the south, on the Lorenfalu border of the Heights of Rhyddu, rose the first of Tristan's great chain of watchtowers. They would ride there and lay enquiry as to the progression of Eldamar.

The sun was creeping to its zenith as they came to the watchtower. Cirion laid question to the watchers. When since, had The Lord Guardian of The Light passed this way? The watchers told of what had manifested here, and that The Lord Guardian had laid an enchantment about this place. He had ridden on towards the next watchtower a moon since past; and the bursting of blinding, violet-white light... such as had writhed and flashed about the base of their watchtower, had glowed again... the same pale, and icy blueness, but three Sundial shadows since past. The bursting of blinding, violet-white light had sped across Rhyddu from out of the south where lay the second watchtower. T'was as like, The Lord Guardian was now riding for the third watchtower on Cobblestone Pyke, some six leagues distant.

Cirion thanked the watchers and elected that she, and Moyna would progress to the second watchtower, and there, spend the night. The ride would not be easy. The Heights of Rhyddu gathered in steepness betwixt here, and their goal. The ride would as like, take the sum of remain of the daylight, and the Heights of Rhyddu were not the place to stumble about in the darkness. So it was; that as they made approach the third watchtower, the sun was gathering its crimson and gold in the west. They were made welcome by the watchers and accorded the best of the frugal chambers the watchtower offered.

The watchers knew Cirion for whom she was, and made great effort with such meagre victuals as they had to hand, to furnish The Ice Queen of Shandalar with seemly fare. When the meal was brought forth, Cirion insisted that they all take a share of the same... for were they not all her sword-brothers? There would be no creep and prowl of protocol here; not this night. Further; she would seek out Tristan at Rhom, and arrange for proper victualling of the watchtower chain. These meagre rations held all the signs of parsimony besetting Rhom's Masters of Purse. How might these watchers keep a steadfast, and assiduous vigilance here, if their bellies were always grumbling?

On the morrow, a young watcher came to the chamber, and gently wakened them with, of all things… two goblets of clover and elderflower cordial. He was beset with sturdy blush as he perceived that the Shandalar Queen and her Armourer had divested all of their garments 'ere they took to their beds the night previous, and were naked 'neath the covers. He set down the two goblets, and, dog-rose pink of countenance… almost ran from the chamber.

Cirion permitted herself a gentle smile, saying to Moyna:

'Poor Lamb… but does not his demeanour remind you of your Lukas, that first morning that he awoke in your arms in Shandalar?'

Moyna laughed,

'Aye, and of Lorimer too; that first day he laid eyes upon you in the High Pass of Ling, with you fresh out of Lorenfalu and not yet Crowned Queen.'

Indeed, much had come to passing since those sweet days. They fell into silence as they drank of their cordial and wondered together, how went their lovers' incurse far to the north.

In a while, after they had taken of their ablutions, and garbed and armoured themselves, they took their leave of the watchers and rode out to the south, towards the watchtower on the shoulder of Cobblestone Pyke, some six leagues distant and a ride of clamber, all the way.

As they rode; suddenly… there came, all writhing and flashing across the Heights of Rhyddu, a bursting of blinding, violet-white light that snaked past them and wreathed about the base of the second watchtower, now half a league behindwards. The watchtower shimmered, a pale, and icy blueness… and then, the river of light was gone. Startled, Cirion looked at Moyna.

'Methinks we have just seen the sum of The Old Magick. The Lord Eldamar must be up on Cobblestone Pyke. Come, sister; let us ride.'

They both laid heel to steed and galloped towards the third edifice of Tristan's great watchtower chain.

Eldamar stood back from the watchtower on Cobblestone Pyke and gazed out to the north. The Girdle was secure from here to the High Pass of Ling. Torbair must be close now; perhaps they would meet at the fourth watchtower on the Huddlestone Ridings... so called because of the six great standing stones that stood here in a circle, seeming to huddle together, as if, in covert whisper. Anciently, War horses were exercised on the gallops hereabouts. As he gazed across the sweep of the Heights of Rhyddu he perceived two riders, far distant. One rode a snow-white mount. He knew this mount as well as he knew the lines upon his hand… Starshadow! This would be Lokari riding in intercept. So, he had returned from out of Arfeiniel and would carry the Dragon flask.

As Starshadow drew closer, Eldamar saw that it was not Lokari who rode. The rider was armoured with cuirass and war-helm glittering in the sun. The companion rider was armoured in like manner. What then, was this? Had some calamity befallen Lokari as he rode out of Arfeiniel? The two riders came closer. Still, Eldamar knew not who they might be. They must be out of Shandalar, and here was conundrum indeed. Starshadow would permit few to ride him. Could the rider be Cirion, or perhaps, Gwythlyn? Soon enough, the truth was laid to view. The lead rider reined in and raised helm. Golden hair tumbled down from thereunder, and Eldamar looked into the sky-blue, Agate eyes of his granddaughter. Her companion was her armourer, Moyna. Cirion spoke.

'We are well-met, this fine day grandfather. Look you not so troubled. Lokari is secure. He has ridden north with Lorimer, and petitioned me to seek you out. We see you weave a fearsome enchantment hereabouts, but you needs-must return to Shandalar. Much has come to passing, and the shadows are gathering once again.'

Eldamar hearkened to what Cirion laid before him; then spoke,

'Aye; T'is a sturdy girdling enchantment of The Old Magick, called by name, "Tincya en'Russe Tuulo Elea"… "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting" that I lay across the borderlands. It will deny The Darkness all hope of incurse into Amriath. But, now… Is the Loki flask brought safe to your hand; and too, the content of the second pannier?'

Cirion made respond. The flask was safe in the Citadel, but there was no second pannier. Lokari had spoken of it being torn away as he breached Ling. He had told of two blue flashes as Starshadow made hurling gallop betwixt the two Mark Stones in the Throat of Ling. Flash… the first; he knew not what it might be. Flash…the second had portended the pursuing Shadow-Wraith's destruction.

Eldamar made solemn ponder. Perhaps, the Witching Bracelet was destroyed; perhaps, it was not. A foray must be laid to seek the truth of this thing. He spoke.

'I needs-must lay the last of the Girdle across these heights. Torbair progresses up from the south; and t'is my best hope to meet him at yonder watchtower to complete the Girdle across the Eastern rampart. When this is done, then I shall return to Shandalar and take up the Dragon Flask from your keeping. I shall then ride for Storien-Rhudd. When the Dread Imposition be cast down, I shall return and lay tell of all that has come to passing in my quest to the east.'

So it was; Eldamar progressed on from the watchtower on Cobblestone Pyke, bound away for the Huddlestone Ridings. Cirion and Moyna rode back into Shandalar to attend his return. Starshadow would be over-quartered in the great Shandalar Stables to take of his ease, in lieu of his heroic flight from out of Arfeiniel.

Meantime, Torbair of Aiuthal was progressing to the north, broaching the southern reaches of the Huddlestone Ridings; which, being the ancient training gallops of Horses of War; lay in sum above two-leagues in span. His ride was not hard; he could follow the old gallops, and need not ride unbroken ground. Eldamar though, needs must ride the wildness. All he had in sum to progress were the faint goat tracks and sheep wanders. In this, he consumed some two Sundial shadow-spans in passing 'ere he rode up to the watchtower. There waiting, was Torbair. Who laughed,

'Methinks you are becoming too sturdy in span of summers for an endeavour such as this. Why; I have attended you a Sundial- shadow in passing, old one!'

Eldamar snorted,

'Pshaw! You have not, this day, ridden horse in places where sheep would pale in contemplation of the same. We do not all embrace the fair fortune of having wide gallops to prance upon!... But enough of this puffery; how lies the Girdle of Enchantment?'

Torbair replied,

'It is settled from the cairns on the Knoll of Rhyddu, to this place. If you would lay the last closure, then I shall return to Rhom, and on the morrow, lay the next parcels of the Girdle into the west.'

Eldamar smiled,

'Aye, I shall make it so.'

And stretching out his arms, he intoned the Spellbind. Again, as before; 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 up to the watchtower on Cobblestone Pyke. From his right-most hand, the bursting surged all about the feet of the watchtower of the Huddlestone Ridings, which glowed the same pale, and icy blueness, as had all those before. Torbair nodded;

'Aye, now the Girdle is settled across the reach of the eastern border. On the morrow, I shall lay the next linking from the Knoll of Rhyddu up to Grimspound Brea, above Calverstock Gill. Thence, I shall overnight in Calverstock, and strike out to westwards. Methinks the next place to secure shall be the Whetstone of Curwean.'

The Whetstone of Curwean was a great, deeply grooved, grit-stone rock; where, since times long forgotten in the mists of forgetfulness, warriors had laid edge to their blades. It lay some ten, and five leagues to westwards of The Delvlings… close on half-distance to The Great Crystal Castle on The Cornflower-Blue Mere. T'was a sturdy ride that Torbair chose to embrace about himself. He spoke again,

'From the Whetstone, I shall ride to the Vale of Caehrig, a little to the south of The Great Crystal Castle. There, I shall secure the next linking all about the broken Henge. When the Vale is secured, I shall ride to pay visitation to Marcus and Chelaine, lay tell of all things, and elicit a bed for the night.'

Eldamar laughed,

'No call for elicitation; they shall be well pleased to see you, and as like… insist you spend the passing of the night embraced in their hospitality. I shall ride back to Shandalar, and on the morrow, strike out for Storien-Rhudd to cast down the Dread Imposition. It is good to re-awaken The Fellowship of The Knights of the Eternal Watchtower; we must ensure that it does not sleep again. So, I bid you farewell and fair speed, old friend.'

They clasped hands in the manner of the old Knights… hand to wrist, each and both. Torbair mounted his horse and turned to the south, raising his arm in farewell. Eldamar watched him ride down the gallops; then turning again, laid heel to flank, and made ride for Shandalar.

Far to the north, the Armed Incursion Squadron led by Lorimer and Lukas were riding the Riggs of Grey Prestor. In the early morning, as they tarried; taking the first victuals of the day at the old bothy on the high, upland plains of Camas Mhor; the Merlin-flown despatch from Cirion had made presentment. The tell therein, stood ominous. Within the span of perhaps, a half Sundial- shadow, the flanking scouts had ridden in, saying that as they had ranged to the west of the Riggs, skirting the Yeranoor Woldings; by the early light of dawn they had spied a knot of riders coming from out of the south, and they were coming on in swift array.

One scout had remained, emplaced in covert conceal to gather intelligences. It was not for the knowing at the first, who, or what were the knot of riders; they were too far distant. In this, the odds stood not sturdy that they would hold alliance to The Light. They rode from out of the Yeranoor Shadowlands, and none held alliance to The Light in those grim, and sinister lands.

Lorimer called swift muster. They would ride to the south in intercept. These might well be the creatures that had harried Gwythlyn. Lokari elected to ride on to Storien-Rhudd. There he would entreat a flight of Lokis to bolster Lorimer and Lukas, and the Shandalar squadron. As they came down on the Riggs of Grey Prestor, the scout brought to Lorimer the intelligence that he had garnered. The Ride of whoever they might be, had joined with a parcel of creatures, the same, that had forayed from out of the northerly-west. Their strength stood now, at something close to four-score. They were, but three leagues distant. and moving swiftly.

Lorimer resolved that, with such a number, t'would not be prudent to engage them with 'naught but a squadron. So, he laid a bold design of entrapment. The squadron would show themselves to this ominous ride, and when so espied; they would retire to the north, as if, in flight. The incoming ride would lay pursuit, and with good fortune, Lokari's entrapment would be sprung about them. Needs must though, this endeavour needs-must be measured with singular care.

As Lorimer and Lukas made ready to reveal the squadron; Lokari was laying tell to Khanis, Brood-Sire of the Eyrie of Dragons, of what was coming from out of the Yeranoor Woldings, and too, of Lorimer's intercept. He asked that a flight might be raised to support the squadron.

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Khanis turned about in seek of Tahkaiia… but she was, even now, rising into the skies with her throng of four in company. She had hearkened to the entreatments of Lokari, and squandered thin span in passing to raise the four youngling Predator-Wanderers that she mentored. She turned into the south, flanked by her throng; and soon, they were, but a smudge in the wide blueness of the skies.

On the Riggs of Grey Prestor, Lorimer and Lukas made reveal of the squadron to the swiftly approaching ride of creatures from the south. As they were spied, a dreadful howl arose from the creatures; and with booming War-horns they took up the pursuit. Their steeds were swift… too swift; and soon enough, these dreadful beings began to gain advantage of ride on the Shandalar squadron. This would be a close-run thing.

Lorimer made silent beseech that Lokari would prevail. Were the squadron to turn and engage; t'was as like they would all hear the song of Sathulinan that day. Lorimer and his companions held no fear of death, but t'would be more pleasing to choose the when, and the wherefore in true battle, and not some mischanced entrapment plot that was in truth, doomed to fail… 'less the Lokis made their appearance within a slender span in passing.

Here, it should be told… for those who have not the knowing; that the Algethi know much of their fate after life. It is written in "The Scrolls of the Beginnings," called too, "The Great Dream of Creation," that when their span be fully run; be it from the simple time of their passing, or of grief, or of wounds... but not by disease... 'less they be wilfully blighted, as it was with Feawen Arcamen; then their Charas shall rise out to the sound of Sathulinan, the Song of the Holy Ones, and journey to Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island.

The Algethi know themselves as two different parts: the "Charas," which is best called their spirit; and the "Arcan," which is the vessel, or body in which it is embraced. These two parts are not bound to each other; but without the Arcan, the Charas is as nothing; and, with no spirit, the body is dead and will soon fade as will Moon-mist over still water. As the Algethi spend their allotted span; which may compass perhaps, two-hundred or more, summers; the Charas is disposed to "consume" the Arcan until all that is left of it is a vague shape; and thus, it is indeed immortal. These vague shapes may be the fabled "Hith'dae"… the misty shadows that are sometimes seen in the Deepings of the Forests.

The forsaken, and homeless Charas will be summoned to Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island, by the Song of Sathulinan, and it will journey there of its own free will. Most Charas obey such summons, but if an Algethi should perish at the hands of a Darkling Wraith, or the like; 'less a swift, and great enchantment is invoked; they will become a "Shadow" of the Algethi dead, wandering the Dying Realms until the world ends. Then, the Charas shall not return to the nature of all things; melding with all living things in the forest; all things in the air, and the cool, crystal Meres. There is, but one way such a Charas may be freed, and that is the destruction of the Wraith at whose hands its vessel has perished.

Those who follow the summons may, if they wish; be incarnated in a new-born body, identical to the previous. The others will stay in Carmanthyr until the Time of The Algethi has passed. For the Algethi are bound to the world, and cannot leave it. Whichever way is chosen; all must wait in Carmanthyr for a time.

Such span of time depends on the heretofore deeds. If the keeper of the Charas has done evil in its previous life, it must 'oft times wait longer 'til it is allowed to return to life. On occasion, if such evil was profound and malevolent, it must remain in Carmanthyr forever.

Those Algethi that are reborn are in all ways, younglings again, and hold no remembrance of their previous lives until their experience and knowledge has grown. Then their lives become twice-richened, since they will have experienced two childhoods and have memories from both. However, it not common for an Algethi to be reborn more than once.

Here, it should also be told, that it is said in myth; that, deep in the Enchanted Forests there is a Great Tree... the Mother Tree of Valediction; called "Tel'Ornamarie." Here, it is whispered, the Algethi whose spans are close-run will hang their swords, their bows and their jewels upon her branches as they pass by on their last great journey. T'is, but a sweet and plaintive tale, much revered by minstrels and tellers of tales; for such possessions are, in truth, left in the keeping of their living kin to be passed down through the generations. Many, beset by greed and avarice, have winnowed the Forests in seek of "Tel'Ornamarie." She has never been found for she does not exist; and many have become hopelessly lost in the searching, and have perished.

Though this cautionary tale holds much in virtue, such embracing of the Oneness of Things was far from the thoughts of Lorimer as he saw the ride of creatures closing upon his squadron. They must now stand. Wheeling the squadron about, he arrayed them to engage these oncoming creatures. Were they now condemned to go down into The Darkness? Well, 'an that were the lie of it, they would embrace the same in such manner as minstrels would sing of for a thousand summers.

Thus, the squadron of Shandalar drew sword, and charged. They had advanced perhaps, four-score cubits; when out of the northern skies came the five Loki Predator-Wanderers in arrow-head array. They swept down upon the oncoming creatures and, as one, laid their flume in a wide, roaring, rolling blossom of yellow-red fire; engulfing their prey in the Shrivelling Doom... roasting all in the span of a heartbeat; and 'naught to be seen 'nor heard, but hollow shriekings, and rolling, foetid black smoke.

As one, the Lokis lifted into the sky, sheering round in a circle for their second assault. In this, there was not the need; all that remained of the creatures were smoking and sputtering carcasses licked by thin flames; and charred, and smouldering grasses. Four-score creatures and their dreadful mounts were little more now than cinders. Here… lay the odd, scorched skull or long-bone. There... lay a steaming rib-cage. All the rest was smouldering ash.

Their imposed destruction complete; Tahkaiia and her throng lifted into the skies, turning into the southerly-west. She had elected that they would range the Yeranoor Shadowlands in seek of winnow of Darklings for one last time, 'ere they returned to Storien-Rhudd, where t'was hoped, The Lord Guardian of The Light had, by now progressed to cast down the Dread Imposition.

Lorimer came to the carnage. What had these creatures been? There was little to tell the truthing of this… 'naught but the charred and reeking bones. Even these scattered bones were fearsome to gaze upon. Never had any such as these, ever been seen by him. He made dismount and walked amongst the still-smouldering ashes. There! A skull, less burnt than the rest. He elected to take up this skull and bring it to Eldamar. If any would know, t'would be Eldamar. Lifting the still hot and blackened gruesomeness from the scorched and withered grass, he wrapped it about with a cloth and emplaced it in his saddle pannier. Then, mounting again, he rejoined the squadron. They would ride to Storien-Rhudd; there, to await Eldamar.

Having made secure raise of the Enchanted Girdle... "The Chain that Shimmers Beyond Sighting;" Eldamar rode the Heights of Rhyddu for the span of two moons to northerly, bound away for Shandalar, and overnighting at the watchtower on the shoulder of Cobblestone Pyke. Soon enough, he came down on the High Pass of Ling, and turning into the west, rode the quarter-league to the great Redoubt of Striding Edge. Entering in through the great Iron-sheathed gates, he over-rested at the Bastion. T'was but a pair of Sundial-shadows to the creep of twilight and there was small virtue in riding the Plain of Shandalar to the distant Citadel by light of the moon.

On the morrow, he rode out early, following the dawn-shadowed scarp of Ling Beckside, until he broached the wide, spreading Plain. There distantly, lay the Citadel, some three Sundial-shadows span in easy ride. The day was fine; the skies were blue, but... to northerly-west, there arose plumings of smoke from out the Yeranoor Shadowlands. Eldamar had seen such plumings once before... when he rode out of Yeranoor, across the Woldings.

At that time, it was the tell of tale of the imposed shrivelling doom of Darklings, prosecuted by the Silver Predator-Wanderer Loki... Tahkaiia. Might it be the same again? Were there Darklings abroad in the Shadowlands? And if so, for what purpose? He resolved to embrace a sturdy prudence. There was small chance of Darkling incursion this far to the south, but... the Plains of Shandalar were not a place to be caught alone in the open.

He chose to gather pace, urging his mount into gallop. The Rhola mare rose faithfully to his command, but he wished she were Starshadow. The mare ran bravely, and within the passing of two, and one-half Sundial shadows, there before him rose the lofty edifice of the Citadel of Shandalar.

As he cast off the last quarter-league, there came from the battlements, the blare of signal trumpet. The Citadel gates yawned wide, and he galloped into the great muster yard. From the inner Bastion, came Cirion; armoured, and flanked by four Men-at-Arms. Then too, came Gwythlyn, armoured and helmed. Eldamar made dismount and stood before his granddaughters. He spoke,

'What is all this? You stand as if, prepared for war. What has come to passing since I was last here?'

Cirion smiled a tight smile of greetings, but her sky-blue, Agate eyes were hard and troubled. She told Eldamar of the word recently out of Storien-Rhudd, that the Loki Keeper of Dread Imposition had been assailed, and had perished. She told of the interception of Gwythlyn out on the Yeranoor Woldings by the gruesome creatures from out of the Shadowlands. The Darkness, it seemed, was stirring. Lorimer and Lukas had ridden an Armed Incursion to the north in seek of the truth of this thing.

Lokari had passed over the Loki flask to her keeping and ridden with them, bound away for Storien-Rhudd. She, and Gwythlyn, together with a squadron of the re-formed Queen's Guard were resolved to quest the western border of Shandalar for sign of irruption by these repellent creatures.

She commanded one of the Men-at-Arms who stood as her personal protectors… albeit, she had no sturdy need of the same, being possessed of singular prowess with blade; to repair to the stables and bring forth Starshadow in full equipage; and too, the pannier from the coffer room. This done; Eldamar mounted Starshadow and made to ride away. As he wheeled Starshadow about, Eldamar's gaze fell upon Gwythlyn, who stood silent; scarce-able to look her grandfather in the eye. He saw that she was beset even yet, with heavy remorsefulness, and self-reproach prowled about her in the matter of Arlanna. He held forth his hand to her, and spoke.

'Gwythlyn; come child. There are none to be held to account in the matter of Arlanna, save for myself. For I should have known The Darkness would come a'prowling whilst I was away. Wrap not this blighting ruth about yourself as like, some winter cloak. She would not have had it so, and 'nor shall I.'

Gwythlyn looked into his eyes…

'But, grandfather; had I not…'

Eldamar spoke,

'Enough! This shall be an end to it; t'is time to turn the page. None can presage what might have been, had we chosen a different path… and had you been there, I might have lost you as well. Now, I must away. I bid you good hunting, and I shall foretaste with felicity my return into your company.'

He laid heel to Starshadow and clattered out of the great muster yard; turning to northwards and Storien-Rhudd.

The ride across the Great Plain of Shandalar was without issue. As he passed the Henge of Dromnmhor. Eldamar gazed to the east. The Blue Ice Mountains of Shandalar glittered in the sun. Today, they embraced no cloaking of cloud. The remainder of the day would stand fair, and he could prosecute a worthy progress. A little to the north, beyond the Henge of Dromnmhor, he paused at the little Dromn beck which tinkled merry and clear from out of the Blue Ice Mountains. Here, he would 'plenish his water pouch and give Starshadow to drink.

The water would be most efficacious for pouring within the Loki flask when the time of the unmasking of the riddle came. Whatever it might be that would stand in reveal upon the Great stone tablet of Storien-Rhudd would not be marred, 'nor slighted to the eye when perceived through this crystal-clear, mountain water. When all was done in this place, he rode onwards to the north. Were he to ride the Corries of Thar, he might reach the old bothy on the High Upland Plain 'neath the shadow of Camas Mhor, 'ere the sun sank in the west.

The Corries of Thar were silent as the grave. He saw that little now remained of Gilmar the Meditor swinging in the chains shackled to the great Iron rings in the rock face that guarded the throat of the Corries. 'Naught now hung in the fetters, save the hand, and wrist, and forearm bones. The remainder was a tumbled ruin at the foot of the rock face. He mused; the Justice of Cirion had indeed, been robust. Word of the doom of the defiler Gilmar had been carried across the Realm and, with the knowing of the sum of the price to be paid; there too, came the knowing that there would be no appeal for those found blameworthy.

From the time of Cirion's grave proclamation; from the time that Gilmar's victim, Karina had imposed her gruesome levy of slow gelding upon him; there had been no more despoiling of Shandalar women by force, leastways... none that had come forth in accuse. Indeed, word had spread across all of the Realms, even unto Arfeiniel; and such resolve of Justice had been embraced by all. T'would seem the time of pillage and despoilment of maids at whim had passed... and no cavil there to be found. The Justice of The Light needs must be seen to stand in equal measure for one as it would for another, 'else t'were no Justice at all.

'Aye, his granddaughter had laid a sturdy equality that would prevail long after they had all journeyed to Carmanthyr… The Tranquil Island. He smiled; she had blossomed into a true Guardian of The Light.

Enough of this… he must progress onwards into the north. High Camas Mhor and the Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd were above twenty- leagues in the travel, and the sun was a half-Sundial span beyond zenith. He would strike the bothy on the High Upland Plain 'neath the shadow of Camas Mhor within the remain of the day if he tarried no longer in this place. Laying heel to Starshadow, he rode up and out of the Corries of Thar; and no rue to be gathered in the leaving.

Thirty-leagues to the south, two riders forged a progress northwards along the far western borders of Shandalar. Soon, they would strike the Riggs of Grey Prestor, and beyond, would turn to progress the High Upland Plain 'neath the shadow of Camas Mhor. These two riders had journeyed far. In three moons, they had spanned Lorenfalu and the Khallis wastelands.

They had entered the Khallis Redoubt and ridden for the Citadel; there to be greeted by Thoris Barandor, Chief of The Clan Buhrodar; who apportioned them a squadron of Khuzud-Mahin to ride escort the Northern Outlands of Khallis. They rode to north-westerly until they accomplished the southern border of the Great Plain of Shandalar. There; the Khuzud-Mahin bid them farewell and turned again for Khallis.

Torbair of Aiuthal and Artanis Seregon rode into the wide plain. In Rhom, she had beset Torbair with sturdy harassment of her wont to journey to Storien-Rhudd to be with Eldamar when he cast down the Dread Imposition. Torbair had, at the first, gainsaid this temerarious notion. She was with child… The Golden Child. She could not ride eighty leagues in such blithesome condition.

He had prosecuted his contention in sturdy measure, but soon enough, had seen her contumacy, and had chosen that prudence were the better part of valour. So, he had yielded to her wont. She had told that the Golden Child was sweetly settled; and laid covenant with Torbair that there would be no galloped progress. They would journey to Storien-Rhudd at easy pace. Torbair yet held concern in this matter; but seeing the look in her eyes... chose to hold his counsel behind his teeth. The raising of the western links of the Enchanted Girdle would have to wait.

Now, they rode the Riggs of Grey Prestor, and to their sight stood Camas Mhor… still distant, but within striking 'ere dusk fell. Artanis knew of the old bothy by way of the tell of Eldamar of his ride into Yeranoor on his quest for Moat-Tower of Ghlinngar the Seer, and the seeking of the Tarsius of Yeranoor. T'was, as like, that he would over-rest there, this night. So, they would ride thereto. As they came onto the High Upland Plain… There! A rider upon a white mount, some five leagues distantly before them. It must be Eldamar… it could be no other.

Artanis would have made gallop, but Torbair decried her. Had she so soon forgotten their covenant? She bestowed upon him a petulant pout, yet hearkened to his admonishment. She knew full-well, he embraced 'naught but concern for her well-being in this matter. They would progress on at like pace, and meet with Eldamar at the bothy.

As they lay trail to the lone rider, they perceived that he was indeed progressing towards where Eldamar had said the old bothy was situate. There were some two Sundial shadow-spans in remain of the day. They would accomplish their goal before dusk. Their ride was without issue. They rode steadily; the lone rider kept distance. As the pale Moon rose over the shoulder of Camas Mhor, the bothy stood to their sight. There! T'was Starshadow, who watched their approach in manner, unconcerned. They made dismount and entered into the gloom of the bothy. Therein, stood Eldamar, as if awaiting them. He spoke,

'What means this? Why have you elected to lay upon yourself such grave imposition of ride when I left you safely at Rhom?'

And then, he smiled.

'But, it is good to see you, nonetheless.'

Artanis hugged him.

'Thought you to leave me behind when you rode to invoke the casting down of the Dread Imposition? Thought you to relish such a wondrous transformation by yourself… when it was I who brought the Loki flask out of the chest to your hand? I think not, My Lord.'

Torbair laughed,

'She has you there, old friend. No more of the book and the pipe-leaf for you, in your newly raised Halls, methinks!'

Eldamar smiled. The very same words he had reflected upon when he had, at the first; brought Arlanna into his Halls. And in this, as he smiled gently at this whimsy of remembrance... he felt the Circle of Amriath turn softly about them, and knew all would be well.

They passed the length of the night, secure in the old bothy, and having taken of victuals in manner the same as if they were on campaign… bannock and cheese, and water; they prepared to ride for the Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd. As they rode the High Upland Plains, it was seen that a single rider was coming on in the far distance. This rider had appeared on the shoulder of Camas Mhor, and had turned towards them. Perhaps, it was Lokari; for there would be no Darklings this close to the Eyrie of Storien-Rhudd. They progressed some two leagues, ever watchful of this rider, and then… by chance, Torbair glanced back into the west. There, on the edge of the Yeranoor Woldings, stood a cloud of dust. Some ride was making stern progress, a little to the rear, and some pair of leagues distant to their westerly flank. They too, were riding for Camas Mhor. He called a warning, and Eldamar turned to see. As he did so, there came the flash of sunlight on armour, and the call of a signal horn came soft upon the morning breeze. An Algethi signal horn… a Shandalar signal horn.

An answering horn call came from the lone rider before them. Eldamar cast off his concern. The ride could only be Lorimer and Lukas with the Armed Incursion Company. The rider before them would certainly be Lokari, riding out from Storien-Rhudd to meet with them.

The surmise of Eldamar in this matter was not long in the proving. Within a quarter Sundial-span, the rider before them was 'nigh close at hand, and seen to indeed be Lokari who raised his arm in welcome. There could now be no dispute as to the descrying of the oncoming ride, for as Lokari drew close, there came from around the shoulder of the heights of Camas Mhor, a flight of Lokis. The lead Loki, in turning, glittered silver in the sunlight. Tahkaiia!... And her throng of youngling Predator-Wanderers, who overflew Eldamar, Artanis and Torbair; swooping down towards the approaching ride. Here, was no laying of Shrivelling Doom; as the flight lifted into the blue skies and turned again for Storien-Rhudd. Here was all the whyfor that could ever be needful, of whom they might be. For had she embraced the slimmest notion that they might be Darkling… Tahkaiia would have cindered them in a heartbeat.

Within the span of a little above one-half of a Sundial-shadow, Lorimer and Lukas, together with the Armed Incursion Company had joined them. Lorimer spoke;

'Fair morrow My Lords… My Lady; all is well. We have winnowed the Yeranoor Woldings, even unto the boundings of the Shadowlands, and no Darklings there to be seen. All that was found was this…'

And he threw down the blackened gruesomeness of the skull he had carried in his pannier; saying...

'Know you what manner of creature this is, my Lord?'

Eldamar made dismount and studied the skull. It was indeed, a gruesomeness... being heavy browed, and deeply socketed of eye… 'nigh on no allude to nose, and a wide, and stumpy jaw beset with needle-like teeth. A coldness clutched at him. He had read of some horror that close-tallied this thing in the pages of the Tarsius of Yeranoor. Ghlinngar the Seer had told of these loathsome creatures that had appeared at the fifth dreadful engagement of what is called by name: The Eternal Watchtower. This… the mighty, continuing battle fought betwixt The Forces of The Light and The Forces of The Darkness.

The Dreadful, Dark Entity: "Baelar," called too, "The Lord of The Underdark," had elected to wipe these insolent Algethi from off the face of the land, once and for all. Then, he could bring forth the so-called Sath-Ninduru… the dreadful "Night of the Shadows Rising," and turn all back to Chaos, as it was in The Beginning. In this, he had consummately failed... four times beforehand.

To this end, he brought forth from the very bowels of The Abyss, creatures so terrible that none might prevail against them. These creatures would come to be called "Chutaks"… merciless and frenzied flesh-eaters. These were the creatures that had beset Gwythlyn. These were the creatures that might yet, tear down The Third Age of The Light.

Eldamar pondered. Casting down the Dread Imposition would doubtless cause Baelar to embrace a fervid wrath at this impudent disdain for his self-perceived Majesty. What he might elect to exact in revenge for this thing was not for the knowing. What now might be unleashed as Eldamar honoured his part of the Covenant? The Lokis had made good their part, and the very thought of renouncement of the same was unthinkable.

Mindful of this, Eldamar chose now to ride on in all haste to Storien-Rhudd. The company formed up, and they rode the last pair of leagues through the High Pass of Camas Mhor, and came at last, to The Eyrie. Two chary Mal'Lokis stood guardian at the portal. Eldamar elected that the Armed Insurgence Company remained without, whilst the six of them rode in.

The Mal'Lokis permitted them entry and there, in the greeting, stood Khanis beset with the Loki High Council of Storien-Rhudd, who reposed in half circle about the Great Tablet of Stone. Eldamar made dismount, as did the others, and walked forward in greetings to Khanis. Who spoke:

'I bid ye, and thine companions welcome, my Lord Guardian of The Light. The Silver One has told of thine coming; and we are prepared. All here are eager to assume their true form as it was in the Dreaming of Elaiana, in the Age of The Beginnings.'

Eldamar held solemn counsel. Were all mindful of what they might become? Had all been pondered in full sum? There was no knowing of this thing. If any decried for a while; might the key to the Dread Imposition prevail a second time… or must all embrace the same, at the first? Khanis spoke again,

'All here have been evinced of this thing, and all have elected that they shall embrace the same, at the first. So, now we shall proceed, 'an ye would, My Lord.'

Eldamar nodded. Here now, would be invoked the Bequeathal of The First Dragon Lord. He reached into his saddle pannier and bought forth the Loki Flask. Drawing forth the stopper, he eased out the ancient, rolled parchment. Artanis stood close by as he unrolled the same. She made read the first line of riddle:

"Give to drink, the Mal'loki that clasps the crystal all about..."

With care, she poured a sum of the clear Dromn beck water from out of his water pouch into the flask as Eldamar held it steady. When it was full, she turned again to the riddle. The second, and third lines read thus:

"At Camas Mhor, stand on the Dexter Portal Stone, whilst gazing out

across the Eyrie; as would arrow fly, towards the Keeper's Hall,"

Eldamar walked across the Eyrie in company with Artanis, and clambered with care, up onto the great square stone to the right-most hand of the Portal... as it would be seen from without the Eyrie. He turned to face the northern reach of the Eyrie, where stood the great cavern; its Portico intricate compassed, and bound with weathered, carved Charybon Runic devices… "The Halls of the Keeper of The Dread Imposition." Artanis read the next line of the riddle:

"Hold me at half cubit reach; regard the tablet through my all."

He held forth the Loki flask to the reach of one half-cubit, and set it before his gaze, which he laid upon the distant cavern Portico. There to be seen through the depths of the flask was the great stone tablet. And Here, was a curiosity… the flask was round-bellied; and as he gazed therethrough… that which was to his left-most hand was now to his right, and that which was to the top was now to the bottom! This was indeed, a most curious, and subtle deceit. Without the riddle, the truth of this thing might never be laid in plain sight! Artanis read the last pair of lines of the parchment:

"There, I shall show in turn... the sum; though at the first, I may gift frown,

Tenacity will gift the word to tear Dread Imposition down."

He stared at the Great tablet, but there was 'naught to be seen. In truth, the golden filigree chasings masked some of the carvings, but there was nothing there that might be read as a word. He puzzled. Then Artanis gave a little laugh.

'Of course! The riddle reads: "There, I shall show in turn... the sum." My Lord, turn the flask about in your hand whilst you gaze therethrough; Methinks, the Golden filigree work will, at length, match the carvings!'

Eldamar nodded,

'Aye, you have acuity as well as beauty, Artanis Seregon… now perhaps, we shall see.'

He began to turn the flask about… and slowly a word began to stand forth as the golden filigree dragon crept across the flat of the tablet. With slender turn and lift… the carvings were cloaked, one by the one, as the filigree chasings matched to them. Suddenly… a word sprang out of the tablet, seen through the golden dragon's wings. Eldamar drew breath, and spoke the word in a clear, and sturdy voice…

"Kaeraka."

For a little while in passing, there was 'naught… nothing at all. Eldamar cast a puzzled gaze at Artanis. Then, she clasped his arm. For slowly… so faintly, as if to be imagined; weavy tendrils of mist began to rise from the common ground of the Eyrie. As they rose, they grew in substance; much like the mists that rise from the marshes of an autumn night. As they curled into the air, they thickened, until all was cloaked in deep, cloysome fog. The skies became darkened, and lightning licked across the mountain peaks. The lightning danced; a spider's web of blue flicker round and about the bounds of the Eyrie. It grew cold, and a chill, and whispering wind moaned all about that place… but it did not stir… it did not even touch the fog-bound Eyrie.

Artanis clung to Eldamar. What would now prevail?

As if, in answer to her unspoken question; suddenly, and without warning; from out of the swirling skies there came a pure, golden bolt of lightning spearing down into the Eyrie and smiting the great stone tablet… all shattering it in sum, then lancing away all round and about the foggy, blanketed expanse of Storien-Rhudd. With it came a dreadful crash of thunder that shook the very ground they stood upon.

The golden light danced about the Eyrie. Here and there, where the fog lay not so thickly, could be seen the Lokis in shimmer; seeming to haze and shiver in their glowing forms. Still; the web of blue, flickering lightning danced above the Eyrie. Still; the thunder rolled and echoed about the mountain reaches. And then, the fog slowly faded, and cleared... as if it had never been.

The skies became blue again, and the sunlight poured into the Eyrie. But, it shone down not upon the gathering of Lokis. It shone down upon a gathering of creatures that bore a singular likeness to Algethi. Who stood, gazing at each other in complete disbelief. From the far reach of the Eyrie, there came a creaking and grinding of stone upon stone; and the carved Portal of the Halls of the Keeper of The Dread Imposition began to crumble. Its Portico; intricately compassed, and bound with weathered, carved Charybon Runic devices, gave slump and sag, and tumbled down until all that remained, was the dark maw of the cavern.

The Algethi-like creatures had turned, and now gazed in awe at this manifestation. Whether they be male or female, not one wore a shred of garment. Each and all stood naked in company with their comrades. The females stood full in the startled gaze of Eldamar and his four male companions, as did the males in the gaze of Artanis. All there, embraced no hint of discomfit at their nakedness. Yet, they remained at distance. All… save one.

She stood perhaps, a little below four cubits; lissomely framed, yet full in bosom and hip. Her ashen-blonde hair fell all tumbling to her waist. She held Lokari in the steady gaze of her soft amber eyes as she walked towards him, proud and imperious. Standing before him, splendid and unashamed, she spoke; her words couched with a pretty lisp,

'So, My Lord Lokari; what think you of me now, in my true form? Am I pleasing to your eye?'

Lokari stood wide-eyed and voiceless before her. At length, he found his tongue.

'Tahkaiia? Is it in truth… You?'

She smiled,

'Aye, my Lord, it is I; and what think you of me now?'

Lokari said 'naught. He did no more than open his arms to her. She ran to him, throwing her arms round about his neck, kissing him; hugging him, whilst he enwrapped her in his arms, stroking the softness of her skin. Eldamar smiled; he cast his thoughts back to that day in Storien-Rhudd, when Lokari had, at the first, elected to ride upon Tahkaiia when she held the form of dragon.

He had seen here, a bond beyond friendship, and recalled how he had wondered if perhaps, his quest would fully prevail; what form Tahkaiia might hold as an Algethi Maiden; for she stood, as a dragon; most comely, indeed! Now she was transformed; "comely" was, but a thin shadow of recount concerning this glorious maid who stood embraced by Lokari.

His musing was cast away as a voice spoke close by.

'Well, My Lord; t'would seem thou hast truly smitten down the Dread Imposition. And for that, I thank thee, and am forever indebted.'

Eldamar turned, and beheld a giant standing beside him. He stood well above four cubits; being in receipt of close the same clutch of summers as Eldamar; broad of chest and narrow of hip; sturdy in muscle, and of a strong, and noble bearing. His hair was grey and curled to his shoulders. His eyes were wise, and dark amber of hue. He was naked in body and chin.

Eldamar saw Artanis's eyes upon him; for this giant, who could be none other than Khanis; Sire Lord of Storien-Rhudd, was most sturdily endowed. Eldamar raised eyebrow in her direction and saw her cast her eyes demurely away… then glance once again. He spoke, with a wry smile…

'Well, my Lord Khanis, are you content in your true form? For you seem to have garnered the attentions of the Lady Artanis, as doubtless you shall with all the maids that you encounter from this time onwards.'

Khanis smiled,

'Aye, this form suits me well. Ye have no notion of the diverse vexations embracing a Loki… how best to fold wing in slumber, and the like. Methinks I shall relish this true form ye have bestowed upon us, My Lord Eldamar. There is, but one pother that I find in all of this. This ancient tongue that we have embraced is troublesome to me. We now stand in need of stern tutorment in the speech and the ways of the Algethi. I hold cognisance that the most pressing need is for garb. It is bitter cold in this place at night and my companions will rue their lack of scales in swift measure.'

Eldamar nodded,

'Aye, that is the truthing. For now, you may garner some shelter in the Halls of The Keeper; but, needs must; we address this conundrum in swift order.'

He made beckon to Lorimer, who stood silent; making brave endeavour not to lay surfeit of approving gaze upon the diverse, and naked females in surround.

'Lorimer, send out the company with Lukas, empowered with Cirion's warrant, to winnow the settlements and farmsteads all about the Northern Plain. Instruct him to lay request for such diverse garb as might be spared in these places. But bid them to gather only that which be freely given. There must be seen to be no plunder in this endeavour.'

Lorimer made reply.

'Aye, My Lord; it shall be done.'

He turned away, and walked with Lukas to the portal of the Eyrie, communing earnestly with him. Lukas nodded, and made mount. The company gathered about him and rode away.