The fresh spring air was everything Cara needed. The days since the dwarves’ sudden departure had been filled with anxious thoughts and fitful sleep. The cave-in, the waking dreams, the eyeless woman (whom she’d begun to doubt she’d even seen, despite the guards reassuring her there was in fact someone on the wall), all seemed to be swept away with the brisk wind that swept down from the northern slope of Cavanal. Her brother shouted for her to catch up with him and Howl. She spurred her silver and galloped over the long, thick grassy sea, grateful for the rumble of her horse’s hooves, the cloudless blue sky, and the warm breeze that tossed her red curls across her face.

When she caught up to the boys, they spurred their destriers and tore across the fields. Very well, then. “After them, Arrow!”. She spurred her stallion again and took off after them. Arrow was a long limbed and lean bodied courser, far swifter than their bulky destriers. She easily overtook them, and laughed when she heard them cursing at the clumps of loose soil her stallion‘s hooves flung in the air.

Arrow sped along, and Cara lost herself in the endless green land of her home country. She was far from Cavanal when she finally stopped. Hale and Howl took several minutes to catch up, and both they and their steeds were sweating and breathing hard.

“Good girl, Arrow.” Cara leaned forward and stroked her mare’s neck, then rode her to a grove of apple trees nearby and plucked her horse a ripe moon apple.

“It’s only because you don’t weigh anything,” Hale said with mock indignance.

“I put on more than half a stone in Thrond,” she protested.

Hale laughed. “The dwarves do put on a hearty spread, I’ll give you that.”

“They aren’t called the Stout Folk for nothing,” said Howl. “I wish we could have spent more time in the mountain, but my father felt unwelcome and insisted we remain in the camp. I think he wanted to butter up that Casimiri peddler and swindle him out some jewels for his child bride.”

They all shared a laugh. Howl’s mother, Lady Altair, had died in her birthing bed, a tragedy to be sure. But when Lord Luhmen finally re-wed, the whole realm laughed to see that his new bride was two years the junior to his son.

“What sort of fellow did Malaad seem to you?” Cara asked. “I hardly shared a word with him. Whenever I saw him he was deep in conversation with my father.”

“He kept to himself, mostly. He kept a small army of servants, mostly gold skinned elves from Miur. They only spoke in hinter-tongues, which Malaad seemed fluent in.”

Cara scrunched her brow. “I don’t recall seeing any hinter-kin on the road.”

“They came pouring out of his tent after the camp was set up. And they only came out at night, and ran strange errands, then returned at dawn and disappeared into their pavillions. It was rather queer, truth be told.”

“Howl!” shouted a voice. They looked about and saw a half dozen horses riding their way. Most were palfrey’s, small with dappled gray hair, and there was a pair of black destriers and a chestnut rouncey. Cara squinted to see through the glowing sun. It was Lady Altaire, two of Lord Luhmen’s household guard, and three of Lord Atheon’s seven daughters.

“Ho there, mother,” Howl said.

Lady Altaire was beaming, as she always seemed to do. Cara looked with envy on her dark brown skin, and how she seemed to glow in the sunlight. Hale and Howl greeted each of Lord Atheon’s daughters, somehow managing to match their names to their identical faces without mishap. Cara always felt unnerved by the Ebonfield brood. Lord Atheon’s fraternal twin sons were so different one would never guess them to be brothers. In like manner his daughters were born in two batches of twins, and one of triplets. The triplets were by far the most queer. The two sets of twins all tried desperately to appear different from one another, but the triplets were never seen apart, and often even wore matching clothes.

“A fine morning, Highnesses,” Lady Altair said in her distinctive Casimiri accent. “My lord husband is breaking fast with your king father, and we have Lord Atheon’s sweet daughters for the fortnite. You look well, Princess. It must feel grand to feel grass beneath your feet after treading upon all that hard stone.”

“It does, my lady. And I missed being in the saddle. Thrond was marvelous, though.”

“I imagine so. Such a shame the dwarves had to leave so suddenly. I’d hoped to present Lord Atheon’s daughters to Prince Halfur. It seems Princess Idana has started something of a trend.”

There was something in Lady Altaire’s voice that didn’t sit well with Cara. Comments on Cara’s friendship with Ror were expected, but she seemed nervous when she spoke of Halfur and Yemi’s departure.

“I am most sad they had to leave,” she replied to the lady, “but I’m glad they left before coming to harm. The cave-in was most alarming, and so shortly after Prince Halfur recommended improvements on the undercroft to my father.”

“They are most skilled with masonry. I’ve heard tales of the carvings on Thrond’s walls that make my head spin. What did you think of Malgond, Highnesses? Was it a thousand feet high, with the entire history of the world carved upon its face in black mannarim?”

A sharp twinge shot through Cara’s belly, and she said nothing. Lady Altaire seemed worried, and looked to her brother.

“Two thousand feet tall,” he said with a grin, “And the histories of three worlds are carved on its face.”

Lady Altaire laughed. “Well, I must task my husband with arranging another trip there, and force him to take me along this time. I ask Howl of Thrond every day, but he only speaks of the merchant and his sneaky foreign minions, as if he expects all Casimiri to know each other.”

Howl laughed. “He asked after you enough times. Either you are all acquainted, or your family is more famed than you admit.”

“Why were you not at court while the dwarves were still here, My Lady?” asked Hale. “I sang a most splendid list of songs.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, Your Highness. Your voice is as famous as your humility. But I had things to attend to. Business from home. If your wedcousins call again I’ll be sure to see them.”

“I expect they’ll first want to know that our undercroft is safe.” Hale was grinning as he spoke, but Cara’s stomach continued to tighten. A sudden dread gripped her. She worried of being caught in another waking dream. Please not now, she thought. Please not ever. I’ve seen enough. She heard a fluttering sound and whirled about, expecting to see a white banner snapping in the wind. Instead she saw Ichar soaring overhead, cutting through the sky with a shrill scream. Her father was riding their way with Lord Luhmen and a host of guards. A pack of hounds was loping ahead of the horses, and a thin old dog with black, wiry fur was following a ways behind.

“It’s that old dog again,” said Hale. “Do you remember that dog, Cara?”

She blinked for a moment, then shook her head as if she were waking from an evening doze. “I… yes, I think. He tried to lick father’s boots when we returned from Thrond.”

“The poor mongrel looks half starved,” said Howl. “He sees the castle dogs and their shining coats and hopes to feed on their scraps.”

One of the Ebonfield girls said something in a strange tongue and the other two laughed. Lady Altaire responded in the same language, though in a scolding tone. “I’m telling them not to speak in Casimiri while amongst those who can’t,” the Lady explained.

“You speak Casimiri?” Cara asked with surprise. Admittedly, she knew very little of Lord Ebonfield’s children. His sons were far older than her, and while inseparable, they seemed to constantly be at odds with each other, but there was no telling why. They came from another time than Cara, and never paid her any attention beyond the common courtesies. The daughters all blended together in her mind, in particular the triplets.

“We speak every tongue known,” said one of them, whether it was Daina, or Diana, or Danina, Cara had no clue.

“Don’t brag, Diana,” said one of the others.

“There’s no boasting in truth,” said Danina. “Our father saw to it we were well schooled in linguistics. We even know a bit of the snarling of gnolls, and the hinter-tongues of Miur.”

“You would have been useful at Thrond,” said Howl. “Malaad’s elves were constantly prattling on in their wilder-speech, when they bothered to show themselves. Hey now, where are they going?”

Her father and Lord Luhmen had wheeled their horses about and the guards rode ahead. Her father whistled and Ichar returned to his arm, and the dogs were baying wildly towards the south. “Send word to Dennel!” her father shouted. One of the guards sped back to Cavanal.

“What is it, Father?” Cara asked as she spurred Arrow to the men. Her stomach was now almost turned to stone. She felt a cold bead of sweat trickling down her back, and the heat of the sun had turned to ice on her cheeks.

Ichar screamed as she wheeled over head. Her father finished giving orders and then raised his arm for the peregrin to perch. She tried again to ask him what was happening, but so much was going on at once that he seemed not to notice her. Hale and Howl caught up, and her father commanded Howl to ride to Cavanal and rally the militia. “Have the city walls fully manned and all defenses prepared, and bid your father to have all his household guard ready for battle as well,” he ordered the young knight. Howl bowed dutifully then rode with speed to the city.

Cara desperately wanted to know what was going on, but every time she tried to speak her father gave some order to a man nearby. Hale offered her his spyglass and pointed eastward. She looked instinctively to Obrus. Other than a thick, black cloud billowing over the Brow, the mountain looked as it always had. She looked downward and closer to High Alden, then saw a thin line of smoke blowing on the east wind from behind the far hills. A long train of people were marching through a dell midway between Cavanal and Corn Hill. Their heads were bowed low and many of them looked wounded. Few were armed, and there were no carts or asses bearing goods. The people had fled their city with nothing but their clothes.

She closed the glass and returned it to Hale, then spurred Arrow to follow her father as he set off towards the train of refugees. He gave an order for the women to be taken to the castle, but Cara managed to avoid notice and followed closely behind Hale, who helped shield her from view. Dennel rode out and met them partway to the refugees. Noxi was with him on Bolo, along with a hundred or so mounted soldiers with lances.

The refugees were in a pitiful state. Almost all were wounded, and many of them seriously so. Many were delirious with fear and mumbling incoherently. Some told of monstrous beasts and the spawn of the Hidden Lord devouring their soldiers whole, armor and all. Cara had learned the tales of High Alden’s founding well, and new the description of the gnolls and their baleful cavalry.

She kept close to Hale, and they heard Dennel speaking to a haggard old man in a kettle helm with a bent rim and a bloodsoaked tabard. He was Corn Hill’s Master at Arms, and gave Dennel an account of what happened. The gnolls had gathered in force under an alpha they called the Black Ohm. They claimed Corn Hill was the watch tower of their ancient underground home, and demanded the humans depart. They gave them three days to leave peacefully, and promised to attack on the fourth if they refused to leave, which of course they did.

“They came in the night,” the old man said weepingly. “There was nought we could do.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Dennel pressed him. “Or send word? I could have be met them with six thousand lances, with twice as many footmen close behind.”

“The Corn King said there was an army of elves coming out of the south. He said they’d marched from Solstice to make war on the gnolls, and we weren’t in any danger. But the elves never came. Oh Ser Dennel, I saw their lord, the Black Ohm. He’s a woeful creature. He…”, the man was taken by a sudden and violent tremble and almost fell from his destrier before Dennel caught his arm. “Our King is dead,” the man whimpered on, “fed to the Ohm’s beast. Worm, he called it, his pet centaur. Ten feet tall it was, and twice as long, and its flesh was grey, so dark it looked black in the dead light of the moon. Oh Ser…”

The man leaned forward and clutched at Dennel. Cara’s stomach twisted to hear the tortured way he wept. She saw the centaur in her mind’s eye, dark and terrible and wrapped around the centaur army as the black worm coiled itself around Othomo’s walls.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

They rode back to Cavanal an hour later. Their soldiers formed a protective wall on either side of the refugee train as they filed into the city. Cara’s mother came with a host of servants, and under her direction tents were built in the tourney grounds and open spaces under the walls. Cara did her best to help. She made sure people were fed, found people to look after orphaned children, and held the Corn King’s daughter’s hand while she wept.

“It was almost me,” said a smallish man with rounded shoulders and a sloping forehead. “I was magistrate, and ran for the high office, but the guild barons wanted elected old Barleycorn in the end. My luck, I suppose.”

“You’d have turned tail in the night, Hollen!” shouted a wizened old woman cradling a swaddled babe nearby. “Barleycorn was elected ‘cos he had no fear!”

“Had no sense, you mean!” said another angry voice. The dead man’s daughter sobbed quietly, but her hand tightened around Cara’s at the shouting. Anger welled in her heart at the callousness of the people around her. How could they be so heartless as to criticize the poor girl’s father in front of her less than a day after she watched him die, and in such a gruesome way? She wanted to shout back at them, to threaten to have them thrown out of the city to fend for themselves, but something held her back. Then she heard the strong and clear voice of a dwarven princess in her mind. Are we not the daughters of kings?

“They picked Barleycorn ‘cos he was a patsy!” the man with rounded shoulders was saying. “I’d have turned Corn Hill around. Cleaned out the swamp, and put new blood on the counsel, but they wanted another puppet, and now their puppet’s dead. Good riddance, says I!”

Cara let the girls hand go and shot to her feet, the walked to the man and struck him across his pudgy cheek. “How dare you, sir?! That dead man’s daughter is weeping in this very tent, and you mock him while she grieves? One word to my father, King Salimod Gace of the line of Alden, and I can have you in stocks outside the walls. I’ll make you a peace offering for the gnolls, I will!”

The man stared up at her stupidly, moving his jaw and blinking his large, dopey eyes. The old woman laughed, but Cara whirled to her and pointed a finger. “I’ll have you next to him, crone. Now out, all of you! Let the poor girl weep in peace.”

They looked at her in shock that seemed about to turn to anger. Not one of them moved, and she worried she might have to call in a guard or two, though she knew she’d likely be scolded by her father for insulting such highborn guests.

A booming roar echoed outside, jolting most of the people in the tent to their feet. Noxi came in with his narubit sword drawn. Bolo’s horned head poked through the tent flap after him and he bared his wide, flat teeth. The fading sun glistened on his pebbly red hide, giving him a fierce look. The tent was full of fearful gasps.

“You heard the princess!” Noxi strode about, waving his sword wildly in the air. “Now do as she says or I’ll feed you all to my tarrasque. Bolo! Out of the way, you lumbering lummox! How are they supposed to vacate with you standing in the exit?”.

“I could kiss you,” Cara said after Noxi cleared the tent.

“I’ll remember you said that, Highness. Though I’m somewhat aversed to human maids, begging your pardons.”

She smiled weakly, but lacked the humor to laugh. “These poor people.”.

The girl had stopped sobbing, but there seemed to be no end to her tears. “We’ve done nothing to them. We left them alone when they filled the grottos to the north, and made no trouble for them when they hunted in the woods on the slopes of our hill. My father was careful not to provoke them, and then they just turned on us. They’re truly animals, aren’t they?”

Cara wondered. Her own ancestors rallied the other five kins to drive the gnolls from Konistra’s shores those long years ago. The song was sung at many a feast and tourney, how Alden led the Great Sortie, followed by Narvi the Blooded, Aldebaran Skylance, Oessus Ran’thenix, Goron’Dor Oldtusk, and Queen Anak Gurgu Anak. The gnolls were the ancient enemy, and it worried her that they had gathered en masse outside her homeland’s borders. She felt frustrated with the girl’s dead father for not sending word to hers. The Corn Kings may be no more than glorified mayors, but he could have asked for help, then they would have had warning.

“Why didn’t he send for aid?” Cara asked the girl, trying hard to sound gentle.

She sniffled pitifully, and didn’t answer for a moment. “Everyone begged him to, but he refused. He said the elves would take care of them, but the gnolls fought the elves and drove them away. That happened the first night. No one knows. Please don’t tell them.”

“I won’t, but you must explain to me. Why would he not send word to High Alden? My father never disputed Corn Hill’s secession. He would have gladly sent men to defend you.”

The girl was silent as a tomb, though something in her eyes told Cara there was something she wanted someone else to know. She crouched down and took the girl’s hand. “I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”

The girl took a deep swallow and wiped her nose. “He had visitors in the night. They told him not to fight or send for help, and that all the hollow hills were important and would be protected by a vast army.”

“Who were they?”

The girl almost began to cry again, but managed to squeak out a few words first. “I don’t know. They said no names, and were of no kin I’ve never seen. They wore pale robes, had skin as white as milk, and…” She covered her face with her hands and shook while she wept. Cara sat next to her and wrapped an arm over her, starring blankly ahead while the girl tried to get her composure back. She knew the girl’s next words before she said them.

“They had no eyes, Your Highness.”

Noxi whistled, and Cara followed him out of the tent when the girl had calmed somewhat.

“You know who these people are?” she asked him.

He nodded.

“Who are they?”

“Ghosts from old legends. Why’s you so interested?”

“One came to me.”

Noxi’s eyes opened wide. “I heard about your nightly visitor. I thought it was just that cheeky bedswerver, come to sire him a royal heir. Was it really one of the blind folk? Did it speak to you?”

“She. And no. I fell over the wall and she caught me, then leapt over the other side. She’d been following me since we left Thrond.”

“Have you seen her since?”

Cara shook her head. “You’ve travelled the world, right? Where have you see these people? Are they from some hidden isle?”

“I’ve only seen them on the Isle of Parchment, Your Highness. They’re the Miralu, the spies of the Hidden Lord.”

“Noxi, please. Ever since I went to Thrond I’ve felt like I’ve been completely losing my wits. I’m having nightmares while wide awake, seeing a strange, eyeless person in the night…”

“Princess!” Noxi threw both his hands up in an exasperated shrug. “You think you’re losing your wits? You met me ole’ boss…”

“Your old boss?”

“All right, fair ‘nuff. I give information to the Whimsey. Information I wouldn’t be privy to but for me spot here.” He pointed a long finger at her. “But I ain’t never done any of you wrong.”

“I know Noxi. And I trust you. Please, if you now anything that can help me make sense of what’s happening to me…”

He folded his arms and regarded her through an single raised eyebrow. “For starters, get used to the notion that it ain’t all spinnin’ ‘round you. You see these people? They got bit by dogs shaped like people. And you saw one eyeless woman in the night. That poor girl saw a whole pack of ‘em. And you had a few wakin’ dreams? Well, you’ve met me ole’ boss, the one livin’ soul who’s climbed the Old Oak and lived to tell of it, without losing his wits altogether. Don’t hear me wrong, now, he’s lost ‘em somewhat, but not all, and he’s still the cleverest and craftiest critter that clevers a crittery craft.”

Cara couldn’t help but smile. “My father also had waking dreams, when he was a boy.”

Noxi’s faced turned in an instant to complete curiosity. His head shifted to one side, his other eyebrow raised, and a leering smile crept up one side of his thin, green mouth. “Has he now?”.

“Yes. And when he was in Thrond, wouldn’t you know?”

“And where in Thrond did his dreams occur?”

“When he was looking at Malgond. He didn’t tell me until he heard of my own visions. I suppose he was too embarrassed. I don’t blame him.”

“Do you still have your stone?”

“It’s in my collection. Ridzak said it was cold, whatever that meant, and I don’t feel anything when I hold it anymore. Why do you ask?”

“Just a hunch. You might leave it in your papa’s solar for a day, and see if the blind lady follows him around instead of you.”

“You think she wants the stone? My black mannarim? What for?”

“She ain’t got no eyes, and it made you see things. Just a hunch. Driggz would know better, and you’re sayin’ he was sayin’ that it’s gone cold, so I’m probably sniffin’ at the wrong rump altogether.”

Cara sighed. She was beginning to feel ashamed at how focused she was on herself. Noxi was right to call her out for it. She was surrounded by suffering people who’d seen in the flesh a horror Cara had only read about. She had skipped the page that described what happened to a centaur’s prey, and the girl in that tent watched it happen to her father. Either she and her father were not close, or the shock was still setting in. She expected the girl to be half mad by the morning. The thought of her own father being taken from her flashed through her mind and nearly stopped her heart. That won’t happen to him. He’s nowhere near as foolish as the Corn King was. He would never trust a group of strangers from some foreign land if it put his whole kingdom at risk.

“You’re right, Noxi,” she said after a moment of thought. “I’ve been selfish. I just… so many things are coming to light that I’ve never seen before, and I feel as if the world I’ve grown up in is turning into a whole different place around me.”

Noxi laughed and gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I’ve felt that way meself, Your Highness, many a time.”

“That’s comforting to hear. So what do you know about these eyeless people? Are there many of them?”

“I’ve only just found out they’re real, so I can’t say how many there are. But in the Book, they’re told to be the spies of the Hidden Lord, though they only served him outta fear.”

Cara cocked her head in confusion. She was no expert on the Book of Tides, but she’d read the Empire of the Hidden Lord once at least. It wasn’t her favorite story, even though the Hidden Lord was defeated. “I’ve read the Tide, Noxi. I saw nothing of blind spies. The Hidden Lord was a chimera, and he was defeated by the panther men and the Adar; the star children with skin of gold and bronze.”

Noxi pressed his large tipped fingers to his head and rubbed his temples. “Your papa is always readin’, and so it’s been a mystery to me why he doesn’t show a bit more smarts when he lays out his plans. Now I know why. He’s got a cheap, watered down tavern’s copy of the most important book in the world. The panther men are called the Kzinti, and the Adar have no more to do with the stars than Bolo’s farts.”

“I’m confused, Noxi. Who cares what copy of the Tides we have? I want to know who this blind woman is that’s haunted my steps since the Titan’s Arm.”

He put his hand back on her shoulder and looked her square in the eye. “Cara, you’ve been to some strange places recently, and seen some things most folk never do. It’s time you start shinin’ the lamp inward and openin’ your other eye. I’m going to give you a present, but you’d best promise me that it won’t be wasted on you.”

She promised, and they went to his chambers in the guard tower in Dawn’s End. He handed her a book wrapped in a length of rich purple cloth. She bid him good night, then went to her own bedchamber. She set the book down while Keelie and Kylie bathed her and Gislaine and brushed their hair. The night went rather strangely after that, as much of the castle was astir over the attack on Corn Hill. She and Kylie had to reassure Keelie several times that the gnolls were not encamped outside the Tall Hill, and it was extremely unnerving to hear the constant drumming of sabatons on the floor outside her chambers. Gislain too was in a fitful mood and insisted she couldn’t sleep, so Cara offered to read her a story. She unwrapped the book Noxi gave her. It was bound like any other Book of Tides, though much larger than the ones in their library. The word Esper was stamped into the cover on the bottom corner. She thumbed through the pages, looking for something happy or pretty to calm her handmaid and little sister.

“Here we go,” she said, stopping on the page titled ‘Imanna’s Fire’.

“Ooh, yes!” Gislain said excitedly. “I love the Fire Mother stories.”

The four girls sat on the bed and Cara turned the page. She was expecting to see the familiar tale of Deep Within the World She Sleeps, but instead she found a title she didn’t recognize. Well, time to start learning what Noxi wants me to know. “All right, Gissy, this is an Esperian copy, full of lost Tides we’ve never read.”

Gislain clapped her hands and bounced on the bed. “Like Audun’s?”

“I’d near forgotten about that little degenerate,” said Kylie.

“He is a strange boy,” Cara replied, “very strange. All right girls, we’ll read a couple we don’t know, then a couple we do, then to sleep. Now, this is one of the lost Tides of Imanna, one I’ve never even heard about, it’s called Thunderbolt.”