Category: Tales of Vatan

Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Return to Duilhac

“Hey Taff, look what’s coming up the road…”

Taff was Edgar’s senior on today’s guard duty. Guard duty, at this post at least, was the tedious business of standing by the Duilhac west gate and looking out for anything suspicious or illegal. It was a bit silly really, he was sure almost everybody looked suspicious and a good proportion of them were likely doing something illegal too, in his opinion. Seeing as it was clearly impractical to detain everyone who came through, the task of looking for anything suspicious illegal really didn’t help him decide what to do at all. He’d asked Taff once and the man had said, ‘just… only look for things that are very suspicious or illegal.’ That had helped a bit. The group coming up the road, though, was an exception. He had to admit they didn’t look either suspicious or illegal. They looked… well countless things came to mind, just suspicious or illegal wasn’t among them, in his opinion, which wasn’t something he often thought.

“What is it, Ed?” said Taff in a tired voice, turning to see what he was talking about.

“There, comin’ up the road. That she elf on the destrier out front?”

“Aye, she’d hard to miss. Impressive looking bunch. Is that a dwarf in that plate armour? Adventurers maybe? Could be trouble. Best call over the Sergeant.”

“Isn’t that that same elven lady at the head of the group? The redhead on that Frisian? You remember the one… her name was… Alagariel, I think, like the fairy tale. Beat Gladiuth on the practice field?”

“Huh? Oh… yeah… I guess it is oh and that crazy elven sorceress from the potion shop is with them too…. You know the one with the turquoise hair?”

“Oh yeah… she’s… pretty though… wouldn’t mind…”

“Yeah all them she elves are. Too weird for my taste though. ‘Specially water elves.”

“We’d best just let them through like we do with all the nobles. Send a runner up to the castle announcing their arrival as well, just to be sure?”

“Yeah, good thinking. They make for quite a sight though, don’t they? Almost like they really did come out of a faerytale.”

It had taken them until the afternoon of the seventh day to reach Duilhac. They slowed down to a walk through the city and people stopped to watch them come by. Ala remembered what Myrthe had said when they had left. The band must look even more like they had stepped out of a bard’s tale about of roving adventurers. The alien looking Talathiel with her exotic robe, an actual mountain dwarf in plate armour on a sturdy pony. Matt, who had on their travels had liberated various daggers and a suit of padded armour and Myrthe, who made for an imposing priestess when she chose that to be her guise. Ala looked around her, at the people watching them as well as her companions. It was not what she had expected when she was a little girl like all the others in Thetwick, almost one and a half centuries ago.

By the time they reached the gates of Peyrepertuse, the guards saluted sharply. A young guardsman stepped forward.

“Lady Alagariel, the Duke will see you at once. Grooms are ready to take your mounts at the doors to the great hall.”

“Thank you, Guardsman.”

They dismounted in front of the great iron bound door. Grooms were there to take their mounts to the stables. Ala spoke to Fulgor in elvish, telling him that the grooms were alright and that she would come check on him later. The grooms looked like they knew what they were doing, so Ala decided not to insult them by giving them instructions they didn’t need. They walked straight into the hall. Ala was somehow, unintentionally, in the lead of the group, with her friends arrayed around her. The Duke was sitting at his table at the end of it, but he rose to meet them. Ala thought she detected a falter in his step. He was not as vital as he had been a few short weeks ago, she decided.

“Lady Alagariel, it is good to see you. Lady Myrthe, Mistress Talathiel, Matt the Thief and I’m afraid I haven’t made your acquaintance yet, Master dwarf.”

“It is good to see you too, your grace,” said Ala, “may I present Ulfberht Ulfberhtsson, Patriarch of his house?”

“Master Ulfberht! Of the famed House Ulfberht? In my hall? Unbelievable!” the Duke had to stop speaking for a moment to cough before he could continue. “Truly, it is an honour to have you visit my family’s ancestral home! Many warriors dream of your blades. I own several examples of your Clan’s matchless craftsmanship!”

“My Lord Duke, I am honoured that you would receive a humble dwarf of Clan Ulfberht in your mighty castle! May chance we will have the opportunity to speak of fine blades later,” said Ulfberht.

“You keep impressive company, Lady Alagariel. I see Caerel is not with you. Is all well?”

“Lord Caerel sent us to report to you, your Grace,” said Myrthe.

It was clear by the Duke’s inquiry that the previous messengers had not gotten through. They had probably been killed by the Phansigar at the Ford Inn. Myrthe told the Duke of what they had encountered in Thetwick. By the time she had gotten to Ala and Matt’s reconnaissance of the hill, where they had gotten a good view of the Oakharrow camp, the Duke interrupted her.

“A moment, priestess. I think I need the Marshal to join us. Seneschal?”

“Yes your Grace?”

“Assemble our best mounted company, they are to reinforce the Ford Inn immediately and with all haste. Also, sound the muster across the Duchy and call in the Master of the Crier’s guild.”

“At once, your Grace.”

The man fairly ran out of the Great Hall.

“Please continue, priestess. I would hear the rest of it.”

Myrthe described the ambush and the trip back to Ford Inn.

“Lady Alagariel should tell you about the events at the Inn, I am afraid I was unconscious for most of it, your Grace.”

Ala described the events at the ford, emphasising that the Phansigar had been there in strength and that she had only been able to defeat them with the help of the dwarves. Ulfberht interrupted her at that point.

“I am afraid that while not strictly false, Lady Alagariel’s version of the events at the inn lacks some important information.”

The Duke looked perturbed.

“Pray tell, whatever else you deem important, Master Ulfberht.”

“I counted the dead my lord Duke. There were sixty eight. My dwarves are, or in a few cases, were, fine fighters, but they did not manage more than three, perhaps four of the Phansigar each, if that. Even that effectiveness was largely due to the gift of fire that Alagariel bestowed upon us for the Phansigar are fierce, well trained fighters. That leaves between twenty and thirty Phansigar that my Clansmen could not have accounted for. I inspected the wounds, my Lord. There is no doubt in my mind Lady Alagariel, raising the legendary elven battle dance, saved us. She was about to brush over it, I could not let that happen. Such deeds should be known and celebrated, so say the dwarves.”

The Duke looked intently at Alagariel for a moment.

“Such deeds should indeed be known, Master Ulfberht. I am in agreement with your custom in this matter. It is good of you to bring it to my attention…”

The Duke couldn’t speak for a moment, wracked again by coughing… after a few seconds he spoke again.

“I wonder, Lady Alagariel, whether there is not more to you than even you are aware of? The documents we spoke of, the patrol reports of a hundred and fifty years ago? They have been found. They are freely available to you and feel free to put my librarian to work should you need anything further. My archives are at your disposal. I am getting to be as curious about what you might find as you are. Now, please continue your tale.”

Ala told the rest of the tale, despite her sense of anticipation about the patrol logs. She included the events on the way back.

“I see. Your service to Taladaria is deeply appreciated, Lady Alagariel. Seneschal, see to suitable quarters for these honoured guests.”

The Duke had apparently forgotten that the man had just been sent off on a different task, but Ala saw one of the servants leave, presumably to make the necessary arrangements.

“I think you will wish to stay with your sister, as usual, Talathiel? You will no doubt not be persuaded otherwise.”

“Right you are, Duke,” said Talathiel with a shrug of inevitability.

“Lady Myrthe, I would appreciate it if you stayed at the castle rather than at the temple in the city. I feel we may have need of your keen intellect.”

Ala noticed he hadn’t addressed Talathiel as ‘mistress’. She looked at the two of them more closely. He coughed again. It didn’t sound good. Talathiel moved closer to him. They knew each other a lot better than just a Duke’s knowledge of a respected citizen she decided.

“Seneschal, summon my war council. Have an evening meal for all brought here, and black tea. We may be up late. I will ask the rest of you to sit in on it too, you may be able to clarify points for us.”

Ala surmised that the Duke had a habit of sending the Seneschal on several consecutive tasks before he had returned from the previous one, as yet again a servant departed, doubtlessly on his way to inform the Seneschal of the new task.

It turned out that Gladiuth was on the war council, he arrived together with the Marshal. Talathiel’s presence was apparently expected as well, which surprised Ala. It explained a little more about the interaction she had seen earlier though. It seemed the Bahar family was better acquainted with House de Duilhac than she had realised. The bumbling court wizard was also present, but that seemed more perfunctory than anything else. Adalbert Horn, High Priest of the Temple of Mars in Duilhac took a while to arrive. He was a vibrant man with a bald head and full red beard. He was in his fifties, wearing mail and plate armour and looked like he had been on a practice field when he was summoned.

Last to arrive was Lady Azaïs de Seyssel, Caerel’s mother and the widow of the Duke’s son. She was an impressive woman, who did not look a day over thirty. Taladarian nobles married young but if Caerel was twenty-two Lady Azaïs had to be almost ten years older than she looked. She had olive skin with dark eyes and hair. Her dress was dark and decorated with intricate embroidery. She looked sophisticated and the dress was expertly cut, accentuating her beauty and cleavage. Myrthe had told her many nobles had vied for her hand after her husband’s death. She had not accepted any of them. There were two scribes to take minutes of the proceedings. Lady Azaïs shot Ala an evil glare, which puzzled her. She had never spoken to, or even seen the woman before and didn’t understand the animosity. The Duke started the meeting.

“It has been years since I have called a war council. I have received news today that the corruption that was uncovered in my Court was a precursor to much greater problems…” He coughed again, “it seems that the Oakharrowers have found friends among some order of religious fanatics known as the Phansigar.”

Lady Azaïs bit her lower lip, but stayed silent.

The Duke continued, “it seems unlikely that the Count of Oakharrow would have acted without his King’s consent. We can’t know for sure, there’s always been some idiot nobleman who decides he needs his own realm through the centuries. No reason it couldn’t be Oakharrow today. The Count may have some misguided notion of creating the Kingdom that Saskill, Oakharrow and the Westmarch were once intended to become or something like it, for instance, but it seems far fetched that the King of Selinus has no knowledge of such a scheme.”

He paused again to cough once more, continuing when he had caught his breath.

“I have called the muster, of course, and dispatched what forces we have at hand to the Ford Inn forthwith. It is currently being held by Caerel and around forty men, so it must be reinforced with all haste, as Oakharrow may have three hundred or more already camped at Thetwick. Needless to say, the King must be officially informed and help requested. My health is not what it once was. Caerel is doing his duty. The only one who is suitable as an envoy is you, Lady Azaïs. I will ask these five brave souls to travel with you, along with as small a retinue as you can manage. I want a light and quick party. By barge to Cucugnan, then overland to the coast. You will board a fast galley at Konigsberg, replenish at Amahle and then sail on to Erythrae.”

Azaïs took the news in stride, only looking down for a moment before she responded, “as you wish, your Grace. It is my honour to serve Taladaria.”

Ala sucked in her breath. She knew Amahle was a city on the coast of the elven Kingdom of Water. Gabriel had told her a little about it, he’d been there once, to ply his trade. He had been full of wonder at the elven city, as well as the elven women, she remembered. It was also where Gladiuth had experienced his battle-dance, practising with an elven sword master. It was clear the Duke expected all speed though, so she was unlikely to have time to find out much about her heritage.

She did the calculations in her head. They could probably do Cucugnan to Konigsberg in around three days on fast horses. It was about a hundred and fifty miles. She didn’t understand why the Duke wanted them to travel from Peyrepertuse to Cucugnan by barge though. The towpath was certainly efficient for heavy loads, but was it faster than a straighter line on horseback? The river wasn’t very fast flowing on that stretch as far as she had heard. She supposed draft horses could walk day and night. The Duke could probably requisition replacements at the Inns along the route allowing them to keep moving that way. As she was wondering all of this, her eyes wandered around the table and eventually settled on the intricate wavelike pattern of Talathiel’s robes. Once she realised who she was looking at, she suddenly had a suspicion about the choice of a barge and galley as the mode of transport. The Duke was clearly an old hand at taking the capabilities of all his people into account.

“Very well. That is decided then. I have already sent out a messenger to organise a barge. It will be ready the day after tomorrow. Be ready to depart at dawn. Talathiel, Can you manage a speedy journey?”

“Yes, I expect so, your grace, river and seas willing.”

“Next then. As I said, I can’t really imagine that the Count of Oakharrow has taken these actions on his own. Master Ulfberht, might I ask what more you know of these Phansigar? Can you think of any way that Oakharrow might have come into contact with them?” More coughing.

“My Lord Duke,” said Ulfberht, “I know they have or had monasteries on the northern edge of the range that starts as the Orck mountains, and becomes Dwarfholme further west. It is not that far to Oakharrow, but it is a different Barony that borders the Orck Mountains near their monasteries, it is called Greythorn. It is the land that lies to the northwest of the Westmarch.”

“Hmm, Greythorn? It is not a land I have had much cause to examine in detail. Do you know any more of it, Master Ulfberht?”

“Gerhard de Crequy is the current Baron, assuming my King’s information is up to date. He and his ancestors have a very poor reputation among us dwarves as well as the commoners of his Barony on account of how his people are treated.”

“A poor Lord then,” pronounced the Duke, swallowing the another cough. “How do these monasteries fit into this geographical puzzle?”

“The Phansigar monasteries started to appear decades ago, perhaps longer, mainly south of Greythorn, though they may have more further to the east, deeper in the Orck Mountains. The nature of the Phansigar only became clear to us of Dwarfholme after some time, they were very insular in the beginning. We generally have no quarrel with those meaning to establish themselves outside of Dwarfholme, no matter how foolhardy we consider such proximity to the orcks to be. We only obligated ourselves to allow none to settle the marshes south of Sanlowe, by ancient treaty. Other than that we take no actions. Once we discovered the despicable dogma of the Phansigar and the toll they take on travellers We have been doing what we can about them. However the very fact that they built their monasteries in an orck infested mountain range makes destroying one of their bases most costly.”

“Considering the geography, then, it’s likely that Oakharrow is at least in collusion with his neighbour, Greythorn?” asked the Duke.

“It is hard to imagine that they could cross Greythorn to Oakharrow without the Baron Gerhard’s blessing,” agreed Ulfberht.

“It would seem to be the logical connection to the lands of these Phansigar,” said Adalbert, the High Priest of Mars.

Ala spoke, “it’s unlikely the number of Phansigar we’ve seen could move through Greythorn unnoticed. Unless they are travelling through the Orck mountains. That would indicate some further arrangement with the orcks, which is worrying all by itself. Should that be true though, it is a little strange that they then are not also encroaching on Thetwick from the south, but only from the direction of Oakharrow. We did not spot any orcks amongst the Oakharrowers, though we can’t be certain that won’t change, of course. I would carefully guess that for now the relationship between the orcks and the Phansigar doesn’t yet go beyond some sort of nonaggression pact. I am worried that whoever managed to orchestrate that, may be able to achieve more in future.”

“A matter worthy of investigation indeed, Lady Alagariel,” agreed the Duke.

“None of this makes any difference to what needs to be done, your Grace. Caerel must be reinforced at the Ford Inn. The cities on the border must prepare for war and more information must be gathered,” concluded Azaïs, rather abruptly.

Gladiuth spoke.

“I agree with Lady Azaïs. While it would be nice to know exactly whom we face, we have no immediate means of finding out. While we must take measures to accrue this information, it has no bearing on the necessity of sending envoys to the King or the fact that the Ford Inn and the east side of the Iceflow must be reinforced and strengthened as quickly as possible.”

“I too agree with Lady Azaïs…” coughed the Duke.

“Anyone disagree?”

No one did. Ala noticed that there were specs of blood on the Duke’s sleeve, where he had raised his arm to cover his mouth. Ala traded glances with Myrthe. She had seen it too.

“My Lord Duke,” said Myrthe, “will you allow me to attend to your cough?”

“It is nothing, Lady Priestess.”

“Please humour me, your Grace.”

“Oh, very well…” It was followed by more coughing.

“This council is concluded”.

The Duke rose shakily and Myrthe went with him. Ala went up to her quarters, which was really an apartment for visiting nobles, complete with rooms for family members, servants and guards. She had none of those things obviously. It was richly appointed with hides and tapestries. The bed had pillows and a duvet filled with down, another expensive luxury she was unaccustomed to. She arranged for Myrthe to share the apartment with her. By his expression she could see the Lord Chamberlain didn’t approve, but he didn’t contradict her. Myrthe came up about an hour later. She sat down on the bed next to Ala, who had taken off her mail for the first time in days.

“It’s not good,” she said, “I was able to make him a little more comfortable, but he’s dying, I think.”

“How long?”

“Months, at most. I’ve asked for the high priestess of Guanshiyin to come and attend him. I’m not sure if she can cure it or slow it, but she can do more than I can.”

“Your magic can’t cure him?”

“Guanshiyin’s magic is not infallible. It can fix bodies and expel all manner of infections and virusses. What ails him is something of the body itself. A known weakness of our magic.”

“What do you mean?”

“Guanshiyin can expel all manner of things out of the body, help it repair itself. When the body attacks itself though… well… it’s as if our healing magic doesn’t quite know what to do. I’m told there have been those who have learned to guide the magic and achieve results, but that’s beyond me.”

“Something that’s beyond you? But you’re so smart?”

“Nice that you think so. But not everything works through learning in books. You can’t learn swordsmanship that way can you?”

“No. True. Your body has to learn. Your… thinking mind doesn’t help much. Is that the same with magic?”

“With this magic, at least.”

“Perhaps you should stay here? If the Duke dies, Caerel needs someone close whom he can trust.”

“It’s better if I go with you. It’s my Sojourn and I still feel like my adventure with you is incomplete. Also, Caerel and I can’t be seen to be close all the time. People will talk. It will cause problems.”

“It’s your decision. But the Duke taking ill, right at this time. It’s just a little coincidental for my taste, Myr. It’s just a little too convenient. What if there’s poison or the like in play?”

“I saw no signs that would indicate it, but almost anything can be done with magic. Why are you concerned?”

“Whoever is the driving force behind what’s going on in the Westmarch and Oakharrow has a plan that stretches beyond those places. Even if it doesn’t a weak Taladaria is likely to help their aspirations.”

“I see what you mean. Can’t do anything about it, except advise the High Priest to be vigilant, I’m afraid.”

“It’s something. Different question. Where is Azaïs from?”

“Oh? Of course, you don’t know. She’s the king’s second, though closest and eldest living, cousin. Daughter to his brother. She’s from Erythrae.”

“She’s royalty? All the way from the capital?”

“Oh my, I sometimes forget how out of the way the Westmarch is. Yes, she’s all the way from The Jewel of the North, as its inhabitants call it.”

“An awful long way for a marriage. Even a noble one.”

“Taladaria is a very important fief in Iurrak, it’s the most important thing between Selinus and the King. It makes sense that the King would want to marry his relatives to the Dukes here. It’s not like it’s on the other side of Vatan, Ala.”

“Ah. Now I understand why he wants her to go, at least. The Duke is sharp. Or maybe I’m just unfamiliar with all these layers that nobles seem to have to deal with all the time. Do you have any idea why Azaïs doesn’t like me?”

“Why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

“Azaïs just… I don’t know. It was the way she looked at me.”

“Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe I can find out.”

“I don’t think I did anything to slight her.”

“I’m good at noble intrigue, I’m sure I’ll figure out if you’re right.”

They were silent for a while as they were both lost in thought. Eventually Ala spoke again.

“You know, I think there’s going to be war, Myr.”

“I think so too. If the Duke dies and Azaïs is in Erythrae…. Caerel is so much less experienced. I hope that doesn’t happen.”

“We can’t delay to see how the Duke’s illness progresses?”

“The Duke would never tolerate it. He’ll insist we go immediately. The King must know. He’s a loyal vassal, so that’s set as stone as far as he’s concerned.”

“Then I suppose we can only hope Azaïs will want to move as quickly as possible.”

They sat up against each other- together on the bed, up against the cushions. Myrthe fell asleep that way, exhausted from the day and their journey and Ala allowed herself to drift into her reverie there too. Despite her exhaustion, it felt like a beginning, rather than an end.

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Taking word to the Duke

The eight of them rode into the courtyard at Hightower. Unlike Ford Inn, which was confined to the hill next to the river, Hightower had vastly more space. Both its courtyard was far larger and the outbuildings were spread over a much larger area too. It was also busy, there were many traders and groups of travellers camped here, despite the lack of activity on the route to the Westmarch. Several caravans were visible, including one with the huge barrel wagons of the kind that Myrthe and Ala had travelled with to Duilhac such a short time before. They would start their search for Phansigar here. Caerel stopped just inside the gateway and Ala came up next to him.

“What do you suppose they’d look like?” He mused, partially to himself.

“They can’t hide their physical condition. Well fed and muscled. They seem practised in not appearing as if they are soldiers missing a uniform and armour though,” Ala said.

“I see lots that could qualify.”

“Let’s just work our way around clockwise. It’d be best to stay together, things can get violent quickly with these men. Let’s not have a repeat of what happened to Myrthe at Ford Inn.”

“Agreed,” Caerel said. They all dismounted and he started towards the first concentration of men on their left. Understandably, the people in question noticed them and it was clear they were wondering what this band of exotic adventurers might want from them. Innocent people became understandably nervous when they approached, most people were at least a tiny bit wary of nobles, dwarves and elves which meant that they ticked a lot of boxes that might lead to people being concerned about their intentions.

Myrthe was by far the most tactful among them when it came to approaching people. She was able to set people at ease and get them to display their forearms and Caerel swiftly realised that it was far more effective to let her lead the conversations. The trouble was that they expected to get into a fight in moments if they found any of the Phansigar, so they had to stay close together when they approached each group that looked like there might be Phansigar among them.

It swiftly became obvious how difficult this was going to be. The third group they spoke to was mostly Phansigar. Immediately the situation deteriorated into an open sword fight. They won but Guanshiyin’s assistance was needed to patch Caerel up afterwards. The patriarch of the farmstead next to the scene of the fight came running out yelling as Ala was kicking the last Phansigar off her sword.

“What in the nine hells are you doing, who are you? Are you bandits? Highwaymen? Is it money you want?”

Caerel was there, clutching a bloody arm. “No you dolt. I’m Caerel de Duilhac, Lord of Taladaria. These people were Phansigar…” when the man looked at him blankly, he added, “enemies of the Duchy, murderers and rapists. They prey on travellers.”

“Lord of… oh… milord? I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand, they… look just as if they were travelling peasants?”

Myrthe quietly approached, whispering softly and lay her hands on his arm.

“Oh, Myr that’s… what a strange and wonderful sensation,” Caerel said, momentarily distracted. Myrthe gestured to the farmer, which reminded him what he was talking about. “Look… here… what’s your name?”

Caerel strode over to one of the corpses and pulled up a dead arm.

“I’m Viktor Trevelyan, milord.”

“Well Master Trevelyan”, Caerel said, dropping the sleeve, “you see this tattoo?”

“Err… yes milord?”

“It identifies this man as a Phansigar, a religious bandit. An outlaw, they join groups of travellers and then murder them in their sleep. They must all be rooted out and brought to the Constable. They are coming down from Oakharrow, through the Westmarch and possibly by boats into the marsh. Unfortunately, as you see, they tend not to give up easily!”

The village elder still looked horrified and confused. Other than the tattoo and a dropped axe, the dead Phansigar looked just like most other pilgrims or peasants. Ala shook her head. She could see this going horribly wrong. Either the Duke’s line could be seen as random murderers or people might take matters into their own hands if rumours started to spread. There would inevitably be mistakes and innocent people would be killed. Ala decided they didn’t really have a choice. They needed a different approach and all she could think of was searching for the Phansigar using the Duke’s own system of local constables. However slow that might end up being, it was less likely to deteriorate into tyranny and random persecution. It did mean that they had to get back to Peyrepertuse as quickly as possible as only the Duke could issue such an order to all the Constables throughout Taladaria.

Myrthe stepped in front of the people that had gathered, whispering something in the language of Guanshiyin. She then stepped forward and spoke to the gathered crowd, in an incredibly clear and mesmerising voice.

“People and guests of Hightower. A group of murderers and rapists known as the Phansigar is travelling in Taladaria. They are a religious and highly motivated cult. If any of you have been east of the Westmarch, you may have heard rumours of them before.”

Myrthe paused for a moment, letting her words sink in.

“The dead men at your feet are members of this group. They can be recognised by a red tattoo of a set of spread wings with two curved swords underneath. They are likely to be disguised as fellow travellers or traders, possibly even pilgrims. Not everyone in a group where they are found is neccesarily one of the Phansigar. If you encounter a suspicious group, please, please remember that the Phansigar are probably holding innocents travelling with them hostage. The Phansigar are extremely dangerous. Be very careful about approaching them, they are trained, fanatic warriors. Inform your Constable at once if you see anyone suspect and warn other travellers about them.”

Myrthe’s speech explained the matter to the gathered crowd. People began to spread out now that it was clear what this had been about. It was still going to start rumours of course, but at least the message here had been clear. After watching the crowd disperse, Ala walked over to where Myrthe and Caerel were now quietly talking.

“We can’t do this everywhere we come by, Caerel,” Myrthe was saying.

Ala agreed with her, “I was just thinking the same thing. We have to get to Peyrepertuse as quickly as possible. The Duke must issue proclamations so the criers can spread the word and it doesn’t look like the Duke’s agents are accosting random travellers.”

“Damn it. The two of you are right. Damn it again. Get to Peyrepertuse. Tell my grandfather. He will have to reinforce the Constables and inform his vassals. I’ll do the same in Pearson, for starters.”

He stomped off towards his men who were still dragging away the bodies.

“I would understand if you prefer to stay with him, you know?” Ala said to Myrthe.

“Oh, you noticed then?”

“It’s rather hard to miss.”

“I did think about it… But no. My Sojourn is with you. I am certain of it. If… there is some chance for this impossible thing, I will find Caerel when it is time. I cannot force it.”

“Myrthe. I will live for another eight hundred years. Well, perhaps not at this rate, but what I mean is… whatever my path is… it could take longer than your lifetime. If there is something there with Caerel, then do it and enjoy it while you can.”

“It’s just,…well… I don’t know enough to know if there’s something there. That’s not all of it. I am an ordained priestess. While there may have been an incredibly remote possibility that a youngest non inheriting daughter might be married to the future Duke of Taladaria, it is certainly not possible for a poverty sworn priestess.”

“You’re sworn to poverty? Really? I didn’t know.”

“It doesn’t generally matter much in practice. Having an extended affair with a Duke’s heir is just… an extraordinary circumstance.”

“I’m probably a bit simple for an elf, Myrthe, but in my two or so centuries of life I’ve learned that where there is love to be had, it’s generally worth embracing it.”

Myrthe looked at her, her eyes dampening. Ala hugged her, which wasn’t something she often did.

“I know Ala. You may be right, but I will be coming with you. For now it feels like what I must do. I am certain of it.”

“Alright. I’d hate to lose you of course, even to one as dashing as Caerel.”

They split ways there. Ala gave Caerel a hug. She was a weird elf and could do things like that and it also meant that Myrthe could do the same without raising too many eyebrows. Myrthe, ever perceptive, noticed.

“Thank you. I had no idea you could be so subtle, Ala.”

“I have a good teacher.”

Matt shook Caerel’s hand. Even they had been getting along passably well. Ulfberht said a formal goodbye and Talathiel managed a nod. They left the courtyard, where there were five new shallow graves at the edge of the field across from the settlement’s entrance. Caerel and his men rode north, towards Pearson and the rest of them continued southeast in the direction of Duilhac.

They made good time on their way to Peyrepertuse, moving fast with only their horses. They had no wagons to worry about which allowed them to cover yet more ground than on the outbound trip. They would have been even faster if it hadn’t been for Ulfberht’s pony. They did run into more Phansigar, which resulted in two more altercations. It cost time too. They had to get the local Constable involved each time. Once he was more than three hours ride away in the village that was responsible for the caravan stop where the incident had taken place. In the end, it took about a week to travel from the Ford Inn back to Duilhac.

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Parting Ways

The next day, Caerel and six men left before dawn. The rest of them occupied themselves preparing for their own journey the following day and assisting with the many tasks that needed to be done to strength the Inn. A very exhausted Talathiel came down from the roof towards the evening, announcing that the river had agreed. The moat clearly wasn’t ready but there were vast indentations in the banks just to the north and south of the ford, and the river was swirling violently there. Ala wasn’t completely sure what Talathiel meant with her statement, but she somehow thought that she shouldn’t be too surprised if the course of the river turned the Inn into an island or connected it to the other side of the river sooner rather than later. Caerel returned a little after sundown with twenty five stout, though lightly armed peasants in addition to the men he had left with. Ala was out in the courtyard when they arrived.

“Caerel, good to see you. Seems you managed to find some men, thankfully.”

“Aye, we did. We’ll also be receiving some supplies and some men who can help with more fortifications. All in all, not a bad day’s result. Some more militia men should also follow in the next few days.”

“Well, that sets my mind a little more at ease at least. Let’s see if Helmut has any stew left. Must have been quite a march.”

“We’re definitely due for that, aren’t we lads?”

Ala heard the men agreeing with him as he led them off to the common room. Ala followed too, eager to hear if there was any other news. They had spoken till quite late and the innkeeper was nowhere to be seen. Ala was about to make her way up to her shared room when she noticed her friend, the serving girl, Alissa was still up and looking at her with an attentiveness that hadn’t been there before.

“Are you alright, Alissa?”

She seemed to be shocked by being spoken to, almost as if she thought she would be beneath notice now that Ala was being adressed as a lady. “Eh… yes… mistre… Lady Alagariel.”

“Please Alissa, call me Ala. We’re friends, that hasn’t changed, has it?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“It hasn’t changed for me, OK? Now, what is it?”

“I don’t… I shouldn’t…”

“What, bother me with it?”

Alissa nodded.

“Look Alissa, Please just call me Ala, like you used to. This silliness about titles and nonsense… I’m still the same person.”

“I… I wanted to know…. Is it true that Abraham Toddson was hung in Duilhac?”

“I’m afraid so…” Ala detected something in the girl’s manner, that it was somehow a deeply important question to her. “Did you know him?”

“I…” she seemed to give up, “he was… a friend I suppose. A bit of a father figure. You know the story of my real father.”

Alissa’s father had been an earth elf who had apparently bedded Alissa’s mother when he was at the Ford Inn. Whether it had been love, or prostitution or even rape, Alissa simply didn’t know. Her mother had never explained. Nothing more had ever been heard of the man.

Alissa’s admission shocked Ala. She knew all about surrogate fathers, it was the same relationship she’d had with Bernard. She’d known Alissa for decades, they’d found common ground in both their heritage and lack of knowledge about the people that had conceived them. Alissa had comforted Ala when she had visited the Ford Inn looking for Gabriel and Ala had known her mother too. They had been friends for a long time.

“I’m so sorry… I… don’t know what to say. I never knew.”

“I don’t know… why he felt he needed to see if I was alright when he was at the Inn, but he always did. I last saw him, when he left here, in a hurry. He was chasing you I think… he was with the Constable’s son and some other rough sorts that he really shouldn’t have been with.”

Ala had certainly had a hand in Abe’s death. Jake’s too, which she hadn’t told Martha. She had managed to banish it from her mind while they were riding around the Westmarch, but now, confronted by someone who had been close to one of her victims, she was having pangs of guilt again.

“I’m sorry Alissa, those men he was with… he and them, they tried to kill me on the way to Peyrepertuse. The Duke… he sentenced him to be hanged for it.”

“I know, the soldiers said so…” she sighed. “I knew the Constable’s men were trouble…”

Alissa’s words tapered off as she looked into the distance, eventually continuing, “he even brought me a little money sometimes, you know. He didn’t have to. Didn’t want anything for it.”

“I’m sorry. I must be honest with you, Alissa, he was hanged, at least in part, on my testimony.”

“I guess I’d not expect different, you… you and the militia have a reputation in these parts. Strict and honest. It was foolish of him to be involved with those men. But then that describes much of his life I guess. He never made the best choices.”

“Not that it makes any difference, but I find the Duke’s justice harsh. Not that that is of any use to you.”

Alissa just shrugged.

“Will you be alright? The innkeeper, your mother was his… great aunt? Am I getting that right?”

“That is right. He still tolerates and feeds me. Doesn’t really approve of me… of Abe, or my mother, or anyone really… He doesn’t approve of ‘the entire disaster of my birth’, as he puts it. I’ll just have to find another way to get by. I’ve managed before. It’ll be alright…”

Ala couldn’t help but wonder what service she might offer travellers to achieve that. It didn’t strike her that a young woman like Alissa had many options if her uncle didn’t provide for her. Ala found it difficult, being confronted by the consequences of her actions in such a way. She had known Alissa before, knew she was related to the Innkeeper, but to find out that you are at least in part responsible for the death of someone who was dear to a friend weighed heavily on her. She knew Abe wasn’t an evil man by nature, just someone with poor judgement. Should she have made some greater effort to protect him? She would have to think about it, she knew, to come to terms with it.

“The Inn is likely to be occupied by Taladarian troops for a while.”

“Better than those Phansigar types, at least.”

Ala couldn’t help but feel responsible for the girl.

“Do you want me to ask Lord Caerel to take you on, in some position?”

“I’d just as soon make my own way, I think.”

“If you’re certain… I can only say, take care then Alissa, I hope your fortunes take a turn for the better. If I can ever help… well… please… let me?”

“You’ve always been nice to me Ala, that’s already more than most.”

“Good luck, Alissa. I really hope when we next meet things will be better.”

Before they left the following morning, Ala found Brugor and explained about Alissa and how she felt guilty about what had happened.

“Not any fault of yours, Lady Alagariel. I’ll tell you what though, a friend of yours, is a friend of mine. I’ll find something that the Duke’s Regiment needs her services for and compensate her fairly? That all right?”

It made Ala happy and she gave Brugor a hug, which caused the big man to blush.

“Thank you Brugor, that makes me feel a lot better.”
\bigskip

Caerel elected to leave with them again the following day to make for Pearson so he could gather yet more troops. The village elders he had spoke to the day before had promised to gather more men and send them the Ford Inn too. They’d also sent messengers to other villages, which would hopefully also yield some results. Everyone was ready to depart at dawn the following day. Myrthe didn’t enter the room Ala shared with Ala and Talathiel until very late. Ala could guess with whom she had been. Caerel, accompanied by three men would travel to Pearson to request proper soldiers as well as militia men from the Baron of Sheffield who had his court in castle there. Ala and her friends were to travel to Peyrepertuse, looking for Phansigar on the way.

They started the first leg of the journey was together. A little less than half a day’s ride to the first caravan stop, called Hightower, the the two groups would part ways. Caerel and his soldiers would make the rounds nearby, raising the muster at the local villages and return to Ford Inn quickly with what men he could.

Hightower was at a crossroads, where the trade road that ran more or less parallel to the river, heading north towards Pearson, met the trade way from Thetwick. It was really a large fortified farmstead with multiple families living and working there. The sign proudly proclaimed it to be a Freehold, which meant that the families there weren’t serfs and held at least some of the land in ownership. Usually that was only a small part of it and most of if was farmed according to a contract with the Baron of Sheffield.

Caerel had written Ala a charter authorising her to inspect anyone from Thetwick to Duilhac or anywhere else in Taladaria if she deemed it necessary. It also instructed Constables across the Duchy to hold anyone she wanted for as long as she deemed it necessary. It was pretty sweeping and Ala wondered what the Duke was going to think of it. She had no intention of abusing the rights afforded her but Caerel’s assigning them to her did feel a little like youthful over enthusiasm. Caerel didn’t seem the slightest bit worried about her misusing the document in some way, he probably hadn’t even considered the possibility. Either he was an extraordinary judge of character, or more likely it was a bit of youthful naivety. She had decided to think of it as a vote of confidence rather than any youthful oversight. The boy had aged immeasurably since they had left Peyrepertuse. He did the Duke proud and Ala no longer had any doubt that he would make a fine Duke one day.

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

War Council

The following day, the Count of Oakharrow’s forces still hadn’t made an appearance. Everyone was beginning to find the lack of pursuers strange. Ulfberht’s kinsmen had prepared their expedition into the mountains. Ala and Myrthe convinced Caerel to write them a letter giving the Duke’s permission for them to conduct their search for the correct ore in the Irin mountains. The Irins were really foothills to the larger Orck Mountains to the south. The Irins were normally infrequently visited by orcks. No one really knew why the Orcks didn’t settle in the Irins, but things were not as they normally were in the Westmarch. The dwarves would be in the mountains proper in a matter of hours after leaving the Ford Inn, which was fast becoming the Ford Castle. They should be safe enough from the Phansigar, at least, if not the Orcks.

Ala and Ulf rode out of the Inn with them. Ulf had found a solid small horse, more of a pony, among the excess horses and he rode quite well for a dwarf. They rode with them to the first foothills and wished them a good journey and good luck. They then rode back to the Inn, in time for the evening meal. A council of sorts came together naturally over dinner. They were all there, Caerel, Brugor, Ulfberht, Talathiel, Myrthe, Matt and of course Ala.

“Does anyone have any thoughts on why we haven’t been attacked yet?” Myrthe asked no one in particular.

“I’m wondering that too. What are they waiting for? They obviously have enough troops camped outside Thetwick to drive us out of here.” Matt agreed.

“Perhaps it is a matter of strategy,” mused Ulf, “if they were planning to invade Taladaria anyway, perhaps they decided to dispense with a separate force to deal with you. They may have thought you were simply fleeing, not planning to take and hold the Ford Inn. It’s even possible that they simply don’t yet know what happened here.”

“That would make sense,” said Ala. “I wish we had some word from the Duke, but he doesn’t know we’re at the Ford Inn yet, does he? Also, it has only been a few days. He would never have been able to gather the muster yet. Even troops from the Taladarian Regiment could not yet have made it here.”

Caerel spoke, “I think we must simply continue to bolster this place’s defences. We will begin with earthworks of course. It seems Mistress Talathiel has kindly taken it upon herself to assist there. We will begin to send out patrols, just to see what is happening within half a day’s ride of here. I will visit the villages on the Taladarian side of the river and we will get them to muster some men from their militias to help garrison here. I also hope to gather some work details to help strengthen the Ford Inn. The threat of the Oakharrowers and the Phansigar ought to motivate them. Are there any other crossing points into Taladaria we should be worried about?”

“As you know, the Taladarian side of the river swiftly becomes very marshy downstream. There are some villages on the river, but I don’t know of any of them having more than very small boats for fishing. Landing is the largest settlement, there may be a barge or two that could be used for crossing there, but Landing is on the eastern, Taladarian bank. Bernard and I always suspected that there was traffic with small boats from Oakharrow into Sheffield but I don’t know where. I doubt it’s a route suitable for armies, though.” said Ala.

“It worth patrolling, but it’s unlikely to be a major supply route then?” asked Caerel.

“I think so. Beyond the marsh, it’s Oakharrow on this side and the main crossing point is Verbridge. I’ve never been there, but I undestand it’s massively fortified on both sides of the river. You and Myrthe will know it better than I.”

“True, Verbridge is a great fortification,” agreed Myrthe.

“Upstream, to the south, it is apparently possible to cross, but you have to climb into the mountains to do so. Ford Inn really is very strategically placed. I assume it must once have been fortified, in the past,” concluded Ala. She knew all this from her time running the Thetwick militia. It had been part of her job to know the strategic considerations of the area and she had been well taught by Bernard.

The innkeeper called over from the bar, “excuse me, there were indeed fortifications here once. The inn is built on the old foundations. They say it was burned a few hundred years ago.”

“Are there cellars?” asked Talathiel.

“Yes madam. Flooded by the river though, except the top level which is above the usual level of the river. There are steps going further down, but it’s filled to the brim with water.”

“I would like to see that tomorrow.”

“Yes Mistress.”

Ala wondered what Talathiel had in mind, but her train of thought was interrupted by Myrthe, “We should also warn the Duke. We have no idea how many Phansigar were infiltrated in the groups of refugees passing through here. A significant number of them are probably already in Taladaria. They could even already be in Duilhac.”

“I had not fully considered that,” said Caerel with a worried frown, “in that light and the need to know what my grandfather is doing, perhaps it would be best if you, Ala and your companions travel back to Peyrepertuse, checking for Phansigar on the way? I will visit the closest villages and call the muster. We simply must have more men here. Brugor will make the best defence possible here, while I quickly gather men.”

“We’d be extra vulnerable here, at least for a day,” said Brugor, clearly considering.

“Aye. Though we all would have expected an attack already. We cannot wait here indefinitely,” said Caerel, “I will gather men from the closest villages, return with them and then perhaps go to Pearson to gather a better equipped force afterwards.”

“It seems like the least bad option, milord,” Brugor conceded.

“You should go tomorrow,” said Ala, “we can wait here another day in case of attack. When you return with the first group of men from the villages and hamlets on the Taladarian side of the Iceflow, we can depart for Peyrepertuse.”

“That is indeed a sensible course,” agreed Caerel.

Ala spoke for everyone, “it sounds as if our tasks are clear. While Lord Caerel gathers soldiers the rest of us can prepare to leave the day after tomorrow. It gives a little time to gather supplies for the journey and do the bare necessities to make this place defensible. Perhaps Talathiel can make a little more progress too in that time.”

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Dwarven Mourning

She was woken by Myrthe who brought her a tub of water so she could clean up. Myrthe brushed her hair, silently removing grime and what could only be dried blood. She dressed, and pulled on her mail. She left the ruined tabard and also discovered that her cloak was just as damaged, so she left that behind too. Outside, she found out that Caerel had stood to what was left of his troops, to pay final respects to the fallen dwarves. In the light of dawn, the silhouettes of the armoured guardsmen and dwarves had a mystical quality that was befitting of the solemn occasion. The fallen dwarves each lay side by side, about a yard apart, on a bier that the dwarves must have constructed during the night. The ceremony was mostly silent, except for things that sounded like prayers in the language of thunder. Ulfberht beckoned Ala forward.

“Lady Alagariel, would you do the honours? It would be a boon to my kinsmen.”

It took her a second to realise what he was asking.

“Of course, Master Ulfberht.”

She had to concentrate to project her fire outwards far enough in six directions to light each pyre at once, but she managed it. All six biers turned into roaring infernos in moments. Behind her, the five remaining dwarves spoke in their thunder language. Ala stepped backwards in line next to Myrthe. Myrthe leaned in and whispered in her ear “Kinsmen, may you be borne to the halls of the gods upon these wings of elven fire.”

It was beautiful. Ala could feel tears running down her cheeks. She hadn’t known these dwarves, but they had been comrades in arms for a short while and the ceremony affected her. It didn’t matter at all that she’d only known them for a few hours at most. Bernard had spoken often of his brothers in arms, perhaps he had meant something like this? The ceremony also left Ala wondering where Myrthe had learned to speak dwarven.

After the ceremony, the dwarves kept their vigil, requesting that everyone go about their business and leave them to it. Ala got some more rest, which was also what Brugor had in mind for his hard pushed troops. They did start to make some small clean ups and repairs. Thankfully, no forces from Thetwick had yet been spotted. Talathiel had climbed onto the roof of the inn after the ceremony, near a point where Brugor had stationed two archers. They looked a little quizzical when the water elf turned to face the river adjusted her stance and began to speak slowly. By the time Ala was rested and went up onto the roof to see if Talathiel needed anything she could already see what the water wizard was doing. The river was swirling, twisting and lapping at the land directly up and downstream of the Inn and the ford. The land was eroding before Ala’s eyes. After a few minutes watching the spectacle, Ala could come to no other conclusion. Talathiel was altering the course of the river. It was a brutal demonstration of the Magister’s power. It was also very cool and quite unnerving. When Ala came down to the courtyard, she had to explain it to Caerel.

“Ala, what is your aunt doing?”

“She’s not my aunt, Caerel. She’s Gladiuth’s aunt.”

“Whatever. What’s she doing?”

“I think she’s making you a moat. When she’s done I expect the Ford Inn will be on an island in the river.”

That left Caerel looking at her in disbelief, but he didn’t press the point. After a moment, he just said, “I guess a moat would be nice.”

He then decided there was something more important that needed his attention and walked off shaking his head, leaving Ala behind wondering what to do with herself. The dwarves had embarked on the next part of their mourning process and that involved ale, cider and beer in no particular order. It was a ceremonial toasting, where anecdotes featuring the deceased were told. They understood that an attack might be imminent from the direction of Thetwick and didn’t seem to intend to get roaring drunk, sipping sparingly as each tale about their lost friends was toasted. Ala settled on the roof of the inn, where she had a good view of the surrounding countryside and could watch Talathiel at work. She stood in a number of poses, always with the knees slightly bent, and usually with her arms spread out, at a downward angle, her hand palms downwards. At some points in the ritual, she clearly had time to speak with Ala.

“This stance is called ‘water’,” Talathiel said. “Try it.” She turned away from the river, towards Alagariel. Ala stood up from where she was sitting, and faced her, mirroring her pose.

“Like this?”

“Yes, that’s about right. Small variations do different things, so there’s no exact right way to do it. You won’t feel anything at first, I think, but if you stand for long enough, you will.”

Talathiel changed her pose. “Earth,” she said and then moved again. “Metal.” She showed her wood and fire too. Ala tried each of the positions. There was something about them… something tickling at the edge of her mind in each one. It was strongest when standing in the fire position.

“This is a part of magic?” Ala asked.

“Not really. But it helps focus magic. Magic can be focused by rituals, though it is the significance of that ritual to the one conducting it that seems to be what is most important to channelling magic. Despite knowing this, I know of none who can channel it without resorting to such ritual. For we elves our rituals focus on the five elements I mentioned. We will speak more of it later. My request needs my attention.”

Ala tried the positions again on her own. Fire, particularly did something though she wouldn’t have been able to describe what she felt. She sat down and looked in the direction of Thetwick for a while after that, then did some sword-forms, allowing the familiar routines to relax her. After a while, she spotted Ulfberht in the courtyard waving at her to come down.

Ulfberht came over to her. “Lady Alagariel, I wish to speak with you.”

“Of course, Master Ulfberht. Why the formality?”

“It is a grave and formal matter of which I speak.”

“Please, Master, go ahead.”

“I have discussed the matter with my kinsmen and we have decided to explain what we are doing here.”

“I’ll admit I’m curious, Master Ulfberht.”

“Your sword. May I see it?”

“I would trust you with my life Ulfberht, but I’ve been told that drawing the blade might hurt those it’s not intended for. I would trust you to know of such matters, so if you wish I will give it to you.”

“Really? One of those? Who told you that? If it’s one of those blades… well I’m all the more eager to see it. You are right though. It could be dangerous. Perhaps you can hold it up so that I can inspect it?”

“Of course.” She drew the weapon slowly and held it up for him to look at it, slowly rotating it so that the light showed the details of the blade.

“Yes… yes… a true elf blade… and a very ancient one at that. One of the first perhaps. Look at the intricacy of those patterns. Beautiful. Would you tilt it please?”

She did.

“Yes, yes, just so, the dendritic pattern is very clear. Exquisite.” His eyes drifted the the hilt, “I see the pommel and grip are not original?”

“No. When the sword came to me, they had been damaged beyond repair by something. Acid I think. I have the pieces that are left.”

“It’s a passable job. Little training, but deft fingers and a lot of time. Did you make those yourself?”

“I did.”

“Then it may suffice. You possess a magnificent weapon, Lady Alagariel. The tales that accompany it must be fascinating.”

“I wish I knew some of them. It’s also my only real clue to finding out if I have any living kin.”

“Somewhere, there must be at least some elves alive who know that sword. With such life spans and learning, I can’t imagine none know of it.”

“I do hope you’re right.”

“Perhaps you will find one who can help. Now, about why Clan Ulfberht has travelled so far from Dwarfholme. I should explain. The ore that is required to forge blades like yours is the reason we came. Patterns, like the one in your blade, are initially formed by certain impurities in the steel. If a suitable smelting and forging process is used, that pattern you can see emerges. The crystalline structures in the steel blade align, achieving an unmatched flexibility and hardness. As good, some even claim better, than an Ulfberht blade. As true masters of our craft, we are required to learn the secrets of this forging process. We know for certain at least, that ore suitable to forge these swords was mined in that mountain range over there,” he pointed South, where the Irin mountains started.

“So, then you are on a quest to learn more of your art. A master craftsman seeking to learn yet more. It’s a noble calling, in my opinion.”

“We launched the expedition to find the ore. If we can, we meant to petition the Duke to be allowed to mine it and use it.”

“You said the pattern was initially formed from these impurities? I was told the pattern changes with use. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I think, actually, that the blades the elves make are also infused with magic or elven essence in some way. Perhaps it is simply the ritual of their forging that does it, magic is a subject largely beyond my ken. Dwarves are notoriously unmagical. I have no idea how that is done, or whether such a thing could be done by dwarves. I have seen too much to discount the idea that there may be some magic in everything however. History makes me think that the elves know much more about unlocking it than the dwarves.”

“Dwarves are the ones with the reputations as the greatest of smiths.”

“A fair point, though I often wonder if that is because anyone can use a dwarven weapon… to fully use an elf blade, well, I think you must have some elven magic. I saw your blade work yesterday. You are fully attuned to your blade I think, but perhaps even greater things are possible. You are young, are you not, for an elf? I have studied the legends of the battle-dance. The greatest of the fire-elven battle-dancers were said to be able to project such fire and heat that they could slice straight through an enemy’s blade or armour, melting it as their blades passed through. Perhaps there is more you can yet master?”

“I am certain there is… and… Ulf… Thank you… for sharing your knowledge.”

“I have told you why I am here. My kinsmen and I are not yet certain of what we must do next. It depends a little on what happens here. Might I ask why you are here?”

“Me personally, or the group I travel with?”

“I can see there are things amiss in Thetwick, so I can understand why the Duke sent a force to investigate. Why you are with them is a little more curious, though. Would you enlighten me?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. I came back here to claim the inheritance my adoptive uncle left me. It was his family home and lands and I do not wish to tarnish his memory by leaving it to the Oakharrowers or these awful Phansigar. He charged me with seeing his possessions are well cared for, so I will see it through.”

“So you are seeking to safeguard your uncles’ lands. That is a fair enough calling.”

“To be honest, if the situation in Thetwick returns to its former stability, I would probably find a steward for his estate. I don’t actually have a real desire to hold his wealth. After that, I had plans to visit the elven realms and see if I could discover who my parents were. I have not given it much thought beyond that.”

“So you mean to take back Thetwick?”

“I don’t see how that is possible, without taking on Oakharrow itself. Thetwick is not really defensible against a determined army. To do that, I would bypass Thetwick, if I were the Duke or perhaps the King, should he choose to get involved.”

“As would I. I am thinking I will do this. My kinsmen will travel into the mountains. Among them is my house’s master smelter. He is the one most knowledgeable about ores. I should mention he is still with us thanks to the ministrations of you friend, the Priestess of Guanshiyin. I have, of course told her of our gratefulness and we will make a grand donation to her faith.”

“Myrthe embodies the tenets of Guanshiyin fully, she did not do it seeking anything from you.”

“I know this, but among dwarves, one good turn deserves another. We Ulfberhts prefer to pay out debts promptly.”

“I understand.”

“Now, to continue, transporting ore is highly impractical. If we find the ore, the ingots must be made locally. To do so, Thetwick needs to be stable and open to trade. I will not deal with the Phansigar. That puts my interests in line with the Duke’s, and I suppose, yours. Therefore my suggestion is that I join you in your travels, at least as long as they are aimed at returning Thetwick to the Duke’s control. If I am to leave House Ulfberht with a legacy, I must pursue the source of this ore to the end. I must endeavour to secure lasting access to the ore and my presence is likely more valuable offering you assistance than it will be mining a few chunks of ore.”

Ala didn’t understand why all these magnificent people she was meeting wanted to travel with her, but the idea of this solid dwarf as a travelling companion set her at ease, somehow.

“I think I would like that very much Master Ulfberht. Your sword with us would be most welcome. Though we’ll have to explain it to Caerel. I can’t imagine he will be against it after hearing your tale.”

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Ford Inn

The four of them cantered towards the Inn, moving much faster than the column with its prisoners, wounded and baggage. It would cut hours off their travel time. They approached the Inn at the end of the afternoon. They drew up and observed for a while. From a distance everything looked normal.

“Looks quite peaceful, doesn’t it?” Ala offered.

Matt offered an opinion, “yeah. I don’t like it.”

“He says that a lot, doesn’t he, Ala?” Quipped Myrthe.

Ala asked Fulgor to continue and the others followed. It was quiet, but seeing as the events in Thetwick had paralysed almost all trade, that made sense. They rode into the caravan yard. There were groups of refugees here, and even a few pedlars who couldn’t quite be described as proper merchants. Ala didn’t think they would be continuing their journey to Thetwick, not once they had apprised themselves of the news from travellers. That was unless they sold weapons and armour, of course, there was certain to be a demand for that in Thetwick now. They rode into the walled courtyard where the caravans typically camped. It really seemed like it was mostly refugees now, even more than the previous time they had passed through, which was only a few days before. The refugees stared at them as they rode in, many with a discomforting, blank, expression. She didn’t see anyone in any kind of armour, making her wonder where the warrior monks that had left Thetwick two days before had gone.

Ala thought about what she had overheard. Could some of the refugees be Mahr followers dressed up as peasants? It was very hard to tell a Oakharrower or a warrior monk from a peasant if you couldn’t go by armour and weapons. Especially if they were just standing still watching you, wearing the customary oversized peasant garb. As they were tying their horses, Ala spoke quietly to the others.

“There must at least be spies. I can’t really imagine that Oakharrow hasn’t placed scouts here. It’s actually strange that it hasn’t simply been taken over by those Mahr worshippers yet, with so many men available in Thetwick.”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” said Matt.

“Perhaps the Count wanted things to appear as normal as possible as long as he could,” mused Myrthe. “If he’d taken this place, word would have spread further into Taladaria by now.”

“Perhaps it’s as simple as that,” Ala agreed.

“I’m going to talk to the refugees, I think Guanshiyin’s hand might be of some use there, even if I learn nothing.”

“Be really careful Myr, some of those Mahrian monks could easily be mixed in with the refugees.”

“I’m just a wandering priestess… no threat. I’ll be fine.”

That left Ala and Talathiel standing in the courtyard. Ala felt uncomfortable with Myrthe’s plan but decided, for lack of a better suggestion, to get on with things. She couldn’t help but wonder if the Mahrians were letting the Inn continue on as normal just to see what they might catch.

In the meantime Talathiel was standing with her nose tilted upwards as is she was smelling something. “Well, that’s still a beautiful river. It is an old friend. I’ve always loved the Iceflow. Its currents is strong, as it has been for millennia. If we must defend this place I will ask it for help.”

“Is that something common to all water elves, the way you can… manipulate… the water?”

“No. Well. I suppose we must all have some affinity. It’s not manipulation though. That would be rude. It’s more like… coaxing. I ask and it comes. But I have cultivated that affinity. It is not uncommon among water elven wizards. It just comes more naturally than other forms of magic. We are water, somehow. Just like you are Fire. My affinity is much like yours. Not all elves have it as strongly as you and I, however.”

“I would love to learn more about it, Talathiel, but we should probably make certain we are safe here first.”

“I agree. We should pretend not to know the human boy while he goes about his business, I think. In fact, that may be sensible even in less contested places. Let us go see what is happening in the common room.”

The two of them went inside. Ala was beginning to lose the habit of raising her hood when she walked into any kind of establishment. Not that there was any point with Talathiel next to her, the sorceresses’ looks skipped right past exotic and were best well in a category best described as otherworldly.

The common room was not as busy as Ala had known it to be in the past. Not that she’d expected it to be, considering the situation outside. The atmosphere was subdued, people were speaking softly if at all, huddled together around a few tables. When Thetwick was controlled by the Duke, traders, minstrels and prostitutes had livened the place up almost every night. There were some refugees coming and going, taking food to the courtyard and Alissa was serving more of them, filling bowls with stew from the cauldron over the fire. There were a few groups of men, and even a group of well armoured dwarves, who were arguing with one another in their own language, which sounded a like thunder. It was a rarity and Ala stared.

She’d never seen proper mountain dwarves before. She’d seen a few plains dwarves in Duilhac of course and there was the one at the Duke’s court, but they had dressed and behaved as short stocky humans. When she was younger there had been the occasional dwarf she’d seen travelling with a caravan. She was fairly certain those had to have been plains dwarves too. This was a full-on band of mountain dwarves wearing angular plate armour and furs, with a wide range of oversized swords, crossbows, picks, flails and axes strewn about them. They had several weapons each, certainly more than any human would customarily carry.

“Your mouth is open Alagariel,” said Talathiel.

“Oh. Sorry. Just never seen a band of dwarves like that.”

“Mountain dwarves. Feisty bunch. Don’t come down from their mountains all that often and never without a pressing reason. I wonder what they’re doing out here? I can’t imagine it’s good.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Hmm… well… they are probably either selling weapons and armour, or they’re mercenaries. If the word has passed to the mountain kingdoms that there’s profit to be had here… well, it’s the most likely reason to find dwarves anywhere… but…”

“What?”

“Normally it’s more plains dwarves in those professions. Unusual to see a group of mountain dwarves out and about at all…”

Talathiel was pensive for a moment before continuing.

“If they are mercenaries or arms merchants, the information would have had to be carried through the Duke’s lands for them to make the trip via the Ford Inn. Such rumours could never have skipped by Duilhac without coming to the Duke’s attention. If they had learned of opportunities here through Greythorn or Oakharrow, they would never have passed through here. I think then, I have no idea whatsoever what they might be doing here.”

Ala couldn’t argue with Talathiel’s logic. The only real population of mountain dwarves she had heard of lived to the southwest in a realm called Dwarfholme. It was said to be entirely underground.

“Good point. Ford Inn really isn’t on the way from the dwarven Kingdom to Thetwick.”

“No. It isn’t. It’s strange that they’re here. It may even be something as silly as coincidence. Who would have imagined that? It doesn’t really make much sense.”

“Can’t we just ask them?”

“Mountain dwarves and elves don’t get along. Metal elves sometimes, but water and dwarf is a sure way to reach a disagreement. I’m not sure how they react to fire elves. Maybe they aren’t either. It’s been half a millennium since your kind was much seen in society after all. They are longer lived than humans of course, but still there will be almost no dwarves alive that remember King Anfos.”

“Do you remember him?”

“Not consciously, it wasn’t really something to worry about before everything happened. I never met him, or anything. After Fire was lost, well, something changed. There was an acute difference to how elven kind… felt… I suppose. It’s difficult to put words to it.”

“It’s hard to imagine for me. I don’t even have a real idea of what elven kind is like today, let alone five hundred years ago,” said Ala, as much to herself as to Talathiel.

The dwarves seemed to have settled matters between them. It was a cause for celebration and they ordered a cask of the innkeeper’s best ale tapped in accented but fluent common.

“This may get raucous,” said Talathiel.

The other two groups of men hadn’t escaped Ala’s attention either. They looked like pilgrims, though Ala felt there was something out of place with them. Too fit, too well fed and too muscular. What pilgrims might be doing here, or on the way to where they might be, Ala had no idea of. She wasn’t aware of a pilgrimage site worth visiting in Thetwick.

“Talathiel. The pilgrims. Their presence doesn’t make sense either.”

“Why not? Humans have flights of fancy all the time. No reason they couldn’t have decided that Thetwick’s bear pits or cauliflowers or whatever are holy or sacred or whatever this week. Humans are prone to such flights of fancy.”

Talathiel had already demonstrated she was extremely dismissive of humanity, but was obviously going to offer new and creative ways of reiterating the point. Ala wasn’t convinced, however.

“I don’t think so Talathiel. They’re all between twenty and forty, muscled, and they appear disciplined. I count sixteen of them.”

Talathiel appeared to reconsider the pilgrims, “hmm, you may have a point. We should really either sit down somewhere or go get something at the bar. We’re beginning to attract real attention from the dwarves.”

They were still standing at the door. Ala led them to one of many unoccupied tables. The half elven serving girl, Alissa came to their table, looking mistrustful and tired.

“Heya Ala… err Lady Alagariel..”

“Let’s not act different about all that, can we? Please?” Ala Asked.

“Right… Sow what can I get ya…. err… Ala, Lady Elf?”

“It’s good to see you, Alissa.”

That finally caused her to smile a little.

“You too. Now what do you want?”

“May we have some watered wine please, and perhaps some food.”

Alissa gave a terse smile, “alright, I’ll get you some stew, it’s all we have right now, I’m afraid.”

Ala nodded agreement. Alissa looked as she had not been having an easy time of it. When she left, one of the dwarves who had been looking at them, got up and approached them.

“Afternoon, Ladies. May I introduce myself?” he asked. “I am Ulfberht Ulfberhtsson, of the Kingdom of Dwarfholme, may we speak for a moment?”

Ala decided to be nice and see if the rumours were true.

“Master Ulfberht, a pleasure. I am Alagariel. This is Talathiel. How may we be of ser…”

Talathiel interrupted.

“You are the patriarch of house Ulfberht? What is such a vaunted smith doing here, at the Ford Inn of all places?”

“I am indeed, it pleases me that you know of our works. As for why we are here? It is a long tale.”

“Not trade?” Asked Ala.

“No. Ulfberht works are well enough known that we need not venture out to sell our wares. We can barely meet demand as it is.”

“Perhaps you should sit, Master Ulfberht,” Ala offered.

“Yes, yes thank you, Lady Alagariel.”

The stocky dwarf manoeuvred himself onto a chair. It was an ungainly process as he couldn’t sit and keep his feet on the floor. Ala wondered for a moment why a dwarf would address her as a noble. Or was he just erring on the safe side like many humans did?

“We are here in pursuit of our craft, I cannot tell you more. The secrets of house Ulfberht’s forge are our livelihood. A true master smith would even be able to guess what we are after just because of where we are looking for it.”

Ala spotted Matt coming into the common room. She pretended not to see him, he did the same to her and Talathiel.

“I understand Master Ulfberht,” said Ala, then more quietly, “there are troubles in these lands, I am pleased your journey is not seeking to become a part of them.”

“I do not seek violence, unless it is just and necessary, if that is what you mean.” He continued, “tell me Lady Alagariel. We Ulfberht’s make it a point never to rest on our laurels, we are constantly seeking to improve. To that end I have extensively studied elven forge works. I notice that the armour you wear is of an ancient elven make and quality that is seldom seen. Your sword, however, appears out of kilter, although the shape of the scabbard suggests that all is perhaps not as it seems.”

The dwarf’s eye for metal work was certainly what you’d expect from a master smith, Ala thought. While they were talking, Matt was moving around, exchanging banter with Alissa and the innkeeper. He was also exchanging words with various patrons and made an attempt at a jest with the two other groups of men which obviously wasn’t appreciated. He apologised and beat a hasty retreat back to the innkeeper. Once the pilgrims attention was not on him, he struck up a conversation with the innkeeper again.

Ala turned back to Ulfberht.

“You are very observant, Master Ulfberht. I am afraid I have a bit more immediate concerns. A fight will break out here soon I expect. Would you and your band please leave the common room?”

“I do not seek violence, Lady Elf. But I do not run away from it either.”

“With all respect Master Ulfberht. You and your band are an uncertain factor.”

“Are we now? Then it is a matter of allegiance?”

“Do you see those men over there?”

“You mean the Phansigar scum?”

“Phansigar?”

“Yes, I am quite certain,” se said with a serious expression, “I caught a glimpse of a tattoo, or the edge of one at least. It can scarce be much else.”

“You call them Phansigar? Why? What is a Phansigar?

“These vile bandits… we call them Phansigar, do you not use the same term? Anyway, we will gladly assist you in dispatching them. I thought it was against the law of the land, it stayed my hand, or we would have long have wet the floors with their blood.”

“We have encountered them before, but the name is new to me. Does the tattoo look like spread wings and two curved swords?”

“Yes, yes, that is their emblem. I was surprised to see them here, Lady Alagariel. They live in a chain of high and well defended monasteries just outside the borders of Dwarfholme, to the east of our lands. How they stop the orcks from running them off I do not know. I suspect some sort of arrangement.”

“Do you know anything else about them? Their motivations and goals perhaps?”

“They are a kind of despicable warrior monks that follow some entity or thing they call Mahr. Their right of passage is gaining the trust of a group of travellers and raping and murdering them in their sleep. They take any children back to their monasteries to be brainwashed. I am certain there is magic involved. They train full obedience and warfare as well as gaining trust. Assassination is a favourite of theirs.”

“You clearly know more of them than I, master dwarf. When things aren’t quite so precarious I would like to hear more of what you know about them.”

He continued on, seemingly not in a rush to start the fight, “they even have a religious dogma on which all this is distasteful behaviour based, or so I’ve been told. Being humans, dwarven travellers know to be wary. They have frequently preyed on those who come to visit with us and trade with us.”

Ala frowned, thinking of the bandits that plagued Sheffield. “Please go one Master Ulfberht?”

“These attacks on folk who mean to trade with us are an intolerable blemish on our honour. The dwarves of Dwarfholme hate them passionately. We have attempted to destroy their monasteries, but many are too deep within orck lands, or so inaccessible that doing so causes great losses among us. Still we campaign against them every year.”

“We have friends approaching. I was going to wait for them to arrive,” said Ala.

Talathiel spoke, having listened intently to Ulfberht’s explanation. “Wait a moment Alagariel. I have heard of murdering travellers. It’s happening around the kingdom. They make it their habit to gain travellers trust and travel with them until the opportune moment. They could be travelling everywhere with these refugees. There may be more of them in the yard, too if that is the disguise they are using.”

“Then the Phansigar are active in Taladaria, I would say, Lady Talathiel,” lamented Ulfberht.

“You are correct. Though, I’m no Lady, Master Ulfberht. That’s just Alagariel here.”

“Mistress Talathiel then or perhaps I should say, Magister?”

“Very observant, Master Ulfberht.”

Ala felt out of her depth. Apparently her educations on elven matters hadn’t covered how to actually recognise a Magister yet. She filed it for later.

“If the Phansigar are in among the refugees in the courtyard, this is not going to be neat. There will be innocent deaths.”

Ala looked around. “Maybe we just take the common room, for starters. We just need to make sure Myrthe is safe.”

The situation took over at that moment. One of the Phansigar had apparently decided something was not in order with Matt and had stood up, drawing a long dagger. Matt, as martially inept as he was, was backpedalling hard trying to get his sword up between them. The Phansigar’s companions were also rising, pulling weapons from their robes. Ulfberht bellowed something that sounded ever so much like thunder. His companions all sprang into action, readying their weapons. Ala got up and made for Matt, drawing her sword on the way. She jumped from table to table, severing the Phansigar’s arm below the elbow before he could really do anything about it because he was busy fending off Matt with his shorter weapon. Losing his weapon hand allowed Matt to run the man through, which he did with a horrified look in his eyes.

There was already a clash going on between the dwarves and the Phansigar. The dwarves were outnumbered, but they were fully equipped, while the “pilgrims” hadn’t been wearing mail as part of their disguise, so they were hard pressed. They did their trick where they simply sacrificed a few lessers, but this time Matt and Ala had been expecting it. Between the two of them, they cut down all four of the Phansigar who had been trying to move away with the blood bought cover. It was to no avail. The dwarves made short work of the remaining monks, except for one, who appeared to have drowned on the spot and was leaking water out of his mouth. Ala glanced in Talathiel’s direction, she looked back and shrugged.

“Matt, can you see if Myrthe is alright? I hope they didn’t hear the fight in the courtyard. Helmut, do you know if these men were with any of the groups of refugees?”

The Innkeeper peeked out from behind his counter, which he had ducked behind during the fight.

“No… no milady…. not that I know of.”

She pulled the arm up of one of the dead Phansigar, and stripped back the sleeve.

“None of them has a tattoo? Like this one? Spread wings with two curved swords underneath?”

“Uhmm… no… I don’t think…”

Alissa raised her head, “I think I’ve seen that, err, milady…” she said uncomfortable with addressing her friend as a noble. “The group at the back of the courtyard. One of the men had something that looked like that on his forearm.”

“Alright, that’s one group anyway. We’d best go and weed them out. We should really check everyone here. Do they have any women in the ranks that you know of, Master Ulfberht?”

“I don’t know Lady Alagariel. I think I’ve heard that they do take female children from time to time. I’ve never known them to travel with like minded women. I a scared to think what they do with the children, in fact.”

Ala addressed Helmut once more, “Ford Inn is requisitioned in the name of the Duke of Taladaria. Lord Caerel will be here shortly. You and your people will assist us.”

“Yes milady…” he managed without including any racial slurs, then under his breath… “it’s about time…”

Matt came rushing back in. “I found a window. Something is going on out there, I can’t see Myrthe anywhere.”

“So we go outside,” said Ala, and led off, unslinging her shield. Ulfberht followed close behind followed by the rest of his noisily armoured band. He seemed eager to continue the fight.

Outside, it became clear that there hadn’t been any real refugees at all. Everyone in the courtyard seemed to be bearing weapons, with the exception of all the women and children. They weren’t refugees either though, they had simply been hostages… dressing to make the Phansigar believable. It disgusted Ala. The Phansigar had murdered these women’s husbands, sons and brothers, burnt their homes then beat and raped them into submission just to make sure they would be more believable refugees. She felt an unfamiliar desire to remove them from existence.

The dwarves and Ala were surrounded, it seemed like there might as many as a hundred of them, though Ala knew one tended to exaggerate the size of groups of people. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be terribly well equipped and armoured. So perhaps seventy, she decided. Still far too many. Caerel was at least another hour away.

“I did not realise today would be my last day when I woke this morning, Lady Alagariel,” said Ulfberht, scanning the Phansigar in front of them with a serious expression.

“Nor I mine, Master Ulfberht.”

“I think under the circumstances, we can be a little more familiar. My friend dwarves call me Ulf. We dwarves cannot run, Lady Alagariel. We are not much built for it as well as being unseemly. Please use the time we can buy to try and escape.”

“My name is Ala, to friends, Ulf. I didn’t know it until just now, but I will stay with you. It is where I should be and it would not be right to leave my fight to you. Talathiel, Matt, I think it is vital that the two of you get to Caerel to warn him and then make sure the Duke knows.”

Neither Matt nor Talathiel argued. She could see they wanted to, but they knew it was pointless. Both of them simply did as she said. Particularly in Talathiel’s case, that surprised Ala. In any event her decision was made, she felt no doubt. She looked around for Myrthe. Probably already dead, she decided.

Ala felt very calm.

“Dwarves of house Ulfberht, may I have the honour of fighting alongside you?” Ala asked.

They responded, apparently as one and without prompting with a battle cry in their thunder language. The dwarves formed a line, to either side of Ulf and Ala, and raised their weapons high. Ala was still calm as she called her fire, concentrating for a moment to let it envelop her and then, to her surprise, her new-found friends, whose grim faces looked up in wonder as the golden-red flames enveloped them in a shell of fire without burning or blinding them.

The Phansigar had gathered, weapons drawn. They had pulled out shields and some had armour. In the middle of their line was an older man, with a warrior’s physique and a beard. He looked angry, apparently only barely able to contain his rage at their defiance. Ala’s calm became deeper still. The dwarves took up a rhythmic chant and began to march forwards, she fell into step with them. The Phansigar also came forward and as the first one lifted his blade to strike, Ala’s world gently changed to the place where time at once went impossibly fast and terribly slow. She could move freely, easily anticipating each opponent’s blow. She didn’t really know where she went or what she did exactly, though she later found she could remember all of it in detail if she concentrated.

Then, all of a sudden, it was over. It was quite a lot later and she stood in a dim courtyard that had been bright in the evening sun until a moment ago. Around her, dwarves were lighting torches. A horn call was heard in the distance. Caerel was close. The whole courtyard was strewn with bodies, among them several dwarves. Ulfberht was still standing, though he had deep gashes. Ala checked herself, she didn’t have a cut on her, though her tabard had countless slashes showing the elven mail beneath.

“Well Lady Alagariel, had I known you were a battle-dancer, I would not have acted so dramatic and emotional. Though…” he said, surveying the carnage, “the legends hardly do you justice.”

Ala looked around all the corpses in bewilderment too. How much of it was she responsible for?

“I didn’t know I could battle dance myself, until just now. I prefer Ala though, truly, Ulf. Surely I am only responsible for a very small part of all this?”

As she said it, she realised that probably wasn’t true. For almost all the corpses that lay in her field of view, she found she could remember how they had met their end on her blade.

“Well, we dwarves accounted for a fair share of course,” he said with a grin, “but, truth be told, not as fair as yours. My kinsmen fought bravely and well, I will mourn the passing of my friends who fell. They have honourably earned their place in the halls of the gods. Still, I think great friendships are forged on such days where there is also great tragedy, Ala.”

“I am honoured.” It seemed the only appropriate response. Suddenly a panic came over her. “Have you seen my friend, Myrthe? She is a priestess of Guanshiyin. Talathiel and Matt?”

“There do appear to have been some genuine refugees spread in amongst them. They tied them up over there. We’re untying them one by one, checking forearms. I think I saw one in a priestesses’ robes among them. The water elf and the human did as they were told. They scaled the wall over there. I think they just saw the beginning of your dance, perhaps, perhaps not.”

“It’s a strange thing. Like it wasn’t me, but it was at the same time. But I must find Myrthe, first,” she said as she rushed towards where the refugees were gathered.

Ala found herself crying with relief. Myrthe was alright, except for a nasty bump on the head and looking dishevelled.

“Oh, thank god you’re alright Ala. Was that a battle-dance?”

Ala nodded self consciously.

“It was beautiful and terrible all at once… and all that fire…”

“What happened to you, Myrthe?”

“I noticed something was wrong about the refugees, I didn’t feel Guanshiyin’s urge. It didn’t make sense. They saw my discomfort. That’s when they overpowered me, just after Matt went inside. I’m not sure what set them off.”

Once Ala had freed her and checked her for any hidden injuries, Myrthe started moving around to help where she could.

“Myrthe, would you check on the dead and wounded dwarves?”

“Oh yes…. yes of course.”

Ala looked at her bustling about, decided she was alright, and headed for the gate in the courtyard wall, calling to the dwarves as she went.

“Master Ulfberht, I would like you to meet the Heir of Taladaria.”

Ulfberht nodded, stood and followed her through the gate, just as Lord came riding up, with Matt and Talathiel on either side of him.

“I thought you two said none of them would survive? Though I’m glad you were wrong. It’s good to see you Ala. You do look a little the worse for wear. Who is this?”

“May I present Master Ulfberht Ulfberhtsson? He and his brave dwarves were instrumental to my still being alive. Master Ulfberht, this is Caerel de Duilhac, Lord and heir of Taladaria, his grandfather is the Duke himself.”

“Lord Caerel, honour upon your house. The lass exaggerates. I think she may well have managed it all on her own.”

“And on yours, Master dwarf. Just how many were you facing in there? You make it sound like fifty or more.”

“Perhaps we should simply count? It would be better to know for sure.” Suggested Matt.

“We should indeed know how many they were with,” Caerel agreed, “it may give a little more insight.”

They walked back into the courtyard. The unlikely carnage was still there, despite Ala’s dreamlike feeling. Myrthe had managed to save one of the badly wounded dwarves. He wouldn’t be doing any fighting any time soon. Several more dwarves were beyond help.

By now, it was getting dark. The dwarves had liberally placed torches around the courtyard which bathed the grisly scene in faint torchlight. Caerel walked around and ordered the bodies gathered outside the wall. Everyone helped, dragging the corpses out of the courtyard. Even Caerel participated, somewhat to Ala’s surprise. She found she had to concentrate for a few moments to remember each corpse and how she had killed them. On one hand it was amazing that she could remember at all. On the other, it still felt detached, which she was actually sort of thankful for.

It was well and truly dark before the bodies were out of the courtyard. The count had come to sixty-eight, not including those in the common room. There was no way of knowing how many had been killed by the dwarves and how many by Ala. Ala supposed she could try and recognise each one by concentrating, but she really didn’t want to replay each death in her mind. Brugor set the guardsmen in shifts, to keep watch during the night.

When they were finally finished they retired to the Inn. There were two large private rooms in the inn, and Ala shared one with Talathiel and Myrthe. Matt, Caerel and Brugor shared the other. The dwarves had elected to keep vigil over their fallen, building funeral pyres through the night. They were to be lit at dawn. Ala could hardly stand on her feet, now realising she was truly exhausted. She insisted on being roused just before dawn to join the dwarves in their farewell ceremony. She had lain down to meditate after she had told Caerel what had happened. He didn’t ask how it was possible, he just listened silently, letting her rest immediately afterwards.

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