Politics - Chapter Six

Ava rode as fast as she could through the gates all the way to the castle. She dismounted and ran in towards Alterian's office. Just outside his office, Ava was stopped by Alterian's guard.

"Slow down, how may I help you, Madame?" the guard asked as he stepped to intercept her.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Wolfhere had already wasted to much time asking around the Swan and the city. He had nothing to show for his efforts there eithier. He had decided that if anyone knew anything about this it would be Alterian. He had just reached the castle and had been admitted into Alterian's parlor.

Alterian entered. "I hope that the reports are not true. Did you really assassinate the Nethbian King?"

"Well it depends on what you consider assasination. If you mean sneak into his castle and stab him in the dead of the night. Then no. but if you mean honorable combat one on one. then well yes I did and I am proud of it." Wolfhere said while relaxing in a chair and sipping a glass of wine that had been brought for him.

Alterian smiled. "I would like to congratulate you but I am not sure that the new rulership will be a better climate to work with. What can I do for you, Sir?"

Wolfhere returned the smile. "Really the Lady Lleucu seemed like a really charming person to me. Well anyways the reason I came. I am hoping that you will have information regarding some children from Nethbo travelling in Abertawe."

Alterian's eyes narrowed. "There seems to be a LOT of interest in these children? What would be YOUR interest?"

"How about the fact that one of them possibly two could be MY children!" Wolfhere said his smile dissapearing.

"I thought you said your children died at the hands of the very King you killed for the deed?" Alterian asked in confusion.

"That is what I thought as well. But recently I have been given some very convincing information to the otherwise. Also you, yourself, just confirmed that there are actually children from Nethbo in Abertawe." Wolfhere said. He still wasn't completely sure about any of this but if these children were actually here then the rest was probably true as well.

"There is... or... there was." Alterian answered carefully. He wasn't sure how to tell the young man the bad news.

"What do you mean was?" Wolfhere asked. He was ready to chase these kids across the world if he had to.

"Quarra and a Knight named Gwilym were taking the children to a safe location. Gwilym was found injured; the children and Quarra still are missing." He said slowly.

Wolfhere frowned. "Where were they, I will find them." He said standing up. Wolfhere remembered the first time he thought them dead the pain that he went through. He could not go through that again.

"Gwilym left. Check in the guardhouse. I am sure their direction is known there as many men went with him including a trusted guardsman of mine. I will send word that you are to be given all you need."

The two couldn't help but pause to hear a commotion outside of Alterian's office between a woman and Alterian's guard…

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Ava was in no mood to mess with guards, "I'm here to speak with Master Alterian about the Children of Nethbo, now step aside," she demanded and tried to pass.

"Milady, I must insist that you stay your ground. I'll get master Alterian once he is done with his current appointment." The guard would not let her pass.

"I'm sure if you told him it was in regards to the children, he would wish to see me this moment!" Ava did not mean to raise her voice, but she was too flustered from all that had occurred.

Wolfhear suddenly stood up. "They are speaking of the children outside." He strode outside. "What about the children?" Wolfhear demanded.

Ava looked to Alterian's doorway to see a large man exit barking orders at her. A sudden burst of fear fell over her.

Alterian followed Wolfhear and his eyes widened. Alterian could see the fear on Ava's face, "Lady Ava, come in? Come, sit down, please." He ushered the woman into the room.

Ava let Alterian lead her into the room. The terror of the past week caught up to her and she began to cry. So many had died, including her close friend Reys, while protecting these children. she buried her face in Alterian's shoulder.

Alterian looked at Wolfhear helplessly and then put an arm around the woman to ease her grief.

After a few moments of grief, Ava sat back up and looked at the two men, "I'm sorry, Master Alterian, for crying on your shoulder. My friend, Reys, died just an hour ago. He sacrificed his life to make sure I could reach you with information on the children as well as an escort to bring them back."

"It is of no consequence, milday. Tell us what has happened?" Alterian said gently.

Ava took a deep breath and told them the whole story. First, she told them about the ambush and Father Niddian, Gwilym, and the gaurds getting killed. The note that was found at the ambush site speaking of two other groups looking to kill the children and signed by Urianus. She, then, spoke of their journey to the cave followed by her decision to come here for help. Last, she told them about how she ran into Gwilym and the men with him that were sent by Urianus. How these men were the ones who killed Reys to try and prevent her from reaching the castle. She ended it by saying she wasn't sure what had happened with Gwilym and Eli, and that another guard had broken off, she thought, to go inform Urianus of all that was taking place.

She spoke very fast but the two men were able to follow. "I don't have any time. I need to get an escort back to those children before its too late. The other men are still out there and plan on killing those children. Justin said the cave was defendable but there were not enough men to properly defend it. They need help!" she grabbed Alterian's shirt as she pleaded with him. She was obviously in a panic.

"I have almost a hundred men. We will leave as soon as you are ready. Please lead me to them." Wolfhere said almost begging. The panic showed clearly in his eyes. He had just found out his son was alive. By the gods if he would lose him again.

Alterian nodded. "You have my blessing sir. Bring them back."

"My men will be ready in a half of an hour. Be ready to go." Wolfhere said to Ava. He then quickly headed out the door at almost a full run.

Alterian head with Ava to get her clean garments and food before she tried to lead them back to the children. It was clear, the King would owe the young woman a debt of gratitude.

The Earl Sanglet had been the first on Alterian's list, and therefore had been the first Feirha sought out. He gave no undue significance to the earl's leading position on the list of suspects; he was a prominent figure in court and so would have come more easily to Alterian's mind. However, Sanglet had left on some unknown errand, his staff had no idea, or no intention of revealing, how long before his return. So Feirha had picked another name from the list at random.

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The Priest-Knight of Abertawe rode through the estate, slowly approaching the great house. The manor was grand. It would have housed a dozen families without the slightest crowding. The lawns were well cared for and people and animals milled about. It was a well cared for estate and it showed from dog to the uniformed livery.

Once before the house, Feirha dismounted his horse and knocked on the door of one Ultán ap Mac Teale. The door was opened by a manservant and Feirha was shown into a warm parlour filled with books and items of art. He knew that his horse would be cared for without the words even being spoken; in fact two young grooms had moved in to attend the mount even before the main door had fully closed behind them. A few minutes later a portly Lord entered the room. "Greetings and good day to you Sir. How may I be of assistance," the man offered his arm in greeting.

"My Lord," greeted Feirha, taking the man's offered arm in a formal grip, "thank you for seeing me so promptly without prior arrangement." He gave the man the courtesy of getting straight to the point. "As you are doubtlessly aware, the Lady Audrey, the King's mistress and betrothed, was found dead in her room five nights ago. That is common knowledge by now. What is not common knowledge however, is that, in fact, she was murdered."

Ultan's eyes widened with surprise. "Murdered, within the castle proper?" He moved to a board and poured to drinks. He took one and indicated the other was available should his guest want it. "And what brings you here?"

"I have been charged, by King Gwalchmai himself, with investigating this murder, and bringing the killer to justice."

"I see? And what brings you here then?" The man was definitely now more reserved and had a guarded look upon his face.

"A reliable source informs me that you may have information that could help me in my duty," Feirha said non-committedly.

"I go to court on a regular basis, this is no secret. But I have never met the King's bit of cloth nor do I know who may have killed her." He took a swift drink of his wine.

Feirha noted the less than respectful term Ultan had used to refer to Lady Audrey, but he had expected a similar reaction; how else would one be expected to react when accused, if only by association, of such a crime. He had prepared a response to try and ease any tension and hopefully draw out anything the lord might know.

He held up his hands, palm outwards, "it is, as you say, no secret that you regularly visit the court," Feirha said, walking over to the drink waiting for him. He took a small sip. "neither is it a secret that you are a man of great influence, and popularity among the nobles of Abertawe." A little flattery was often an excellent oil to lubricate the wheels of diplomacy. "I was hoping that you may have heard things, either in confidence, or through the rumour mill, that may shed some light on the mystery. Perhaps it did not seem significant at the time, but anything even a little unusual. Your daughter also, I hear, is an eligible suitor for any young noble and we know that the ladies of court gossip almost as much as the nobles," Feirha winked at the lord, as if sharing a private joke, and took another sip.

"Furthermore Lord Ultan, you are most obviously a worldly man," Feirha scanned his head around the eclectic display of art in the room - that at least seemed to be true - before he continued, drawing something from out of his tunic. "What can you tell me about this," he held up a black feather, "found at the scene of the crime." In fact the feather had been picked up in a hedge just outside Ultan's estate, and had probably belonged to a crow rather than a raven, but there were few, if any, observers who would tell the difference.

The man paled at the sight of the raven feather. "I know what it represents." He said hoarsely. He downed the wine and refilled the glass. "There are rumors around court, but it would not be court without them. It was no secret that many nobles felt that the King's courting of a commoner was unacceptable."

Feirha nodded, placing the feather on the table next to the wine as if absentmindedly, while he took another drink himself, though he noted with grim satisfaction that the man's eyes never left the item. The sight of it had clearly unnerved him - more so than might be expected if he had had dealings with the symbol before - but it was useful to keep his nerves drawn taut; he may let something slip that he might otherwise keep carefully guarded.

"I had heard as much myself aye, but disapproval and murder are two entirely different things my lord, do you not agree? You say 'many' nobles felt this way, but there must only be a very small number of those who would feel the need, and have the will, to correct the king's faux pas in so direct a fashion?"

"There are a few who may be so bold. But the feather lends a different credence. All know that the Raven seeks the child seer, so why she would send someone to kill the King's mistress does not fit into the sect's past actions?" The man took another long pull from his tankard. "Perhaps it is a diversionary tactic? I cannot see what gain a religious sect would have in the woman's death?"

Feirha was impressed with Ultan's deductions, this man was clearly more intelligent than first appearances indicated. The knight took a seat and indicated that the lord join him. "That a diversion of some sort is involved is becoming increasingly clear my lord, and you are not the first to suggest it, though I have begun to wonder on the nature of the diversion.

"It is thought that the feather was left to divert attention towards this Raven sect, to move it away from the true culprit, but perhaps that is too narrow a thought? In battle one of the most vital skills any warrior must learn is the ability to 'read' his opponent; to predict their next move. The most obvious counter to that is to attempt to be unpredictable in combat. Yet that is nothing like as easy to do as to say. Training, foremost among several factors, makes unpredictability very difficult, if not impossible. But there is an much more effective tactic to out-fox an opponent. Lay down a pattern just long enough for your enemy to be lulled into the confidence of wisdom, and then break that pattern at the vital moment. Perhaps this Raven, by implicating herself so obviously, is ,in fact, attempting draw attention away from her sect?"

The Lord had sat as Feirha spoke. He did not answer for a moment, mulling over the knight's words. "It is possible, but a woman to be so clever?" He shook his head. "I still do not see a reason why she would want the King's mistress dead? Does not such a difficult crime require a reason? It is not like it was a crime of the moment? It must have been planned with great precision. Why it is known that the woman was rarely not in the King's bed, how did they know she was alone? Nay, I think it could not be the sect."

"Does the rumour-mill speak any more of this child seer that they seek?" This was the first time Feirha had heard of such a goal for the cult, but he mentioned it smoothly as if it were old news to him.

"The raids on the outlands have yielded many dead but not a single body of a child. They are taken and to where or for what purpose is not clear. However, a druid stopped by in his travels and mentioned trying to find this child first. It seems that this child will be able to influence what is to come as well as the fact that it can see what will be. There is more then one who would pay highly for such knowledge." The man licked his lips. The momentary flash in his eyes, showed that he too, would probably pay for such a privilege. He paused and then suddenly his eyes flew to the knight's. "All have been assuming that the woman was killed because of her relationship to the King? What if she knew of this child? Then the Raven would want such a woman dead, especially if she too, had discovered the child's identity?"

Feirha raised an eyebrow and nodded as he thought. What children might Audrey have come into contact with? The knight was new to Abertawe and its court, but one child came instantly to his mind: Princess Rowena! It was Feirha's turn to pale and he took a deep draught of wine before rising to his feet. He calmed himself, with some effort, and offered a hand to Ultan. "Thank you my Lord, your clear thinking has given me much to ponder. You have served your king and kingdom well. I would return to the castle to think over what you have told me." And trying very hard not to run, Feirha left the room.

"The joining together of Man and Woman in the Sacred Rite of Marriage brings together great forces from which may flow the seeds of future generations to be nurtured within the womb of Time. Within every Masculine nature lies the Feminine, within every Feminine nature lies the Masculine. The interplay of Masculine and Feminine forces when flowing freely in a union based upon true Love finds many expressions. This union is truly Holy." Intoned the Druid. "Who walks the Path of the Moon to stand before Heaven and declare her Sacred Vows" Bronwen stepped forward a little bit. "Do you Bronwen come to this place of your own free will?"

"I do." She answered.

"Who walks the Path of the Sun to stand upon this Holy Earth and declare his Sacred Vows?" Seth stepped forward. "Do you Seth come to this place of your own free will?"

"I do,"He answered with a smile.

"Hold." Jon suddenly said. "That man is not a druid? What game do you play McCullen. I have seen that man drinking swill in the city?"

Seth glared back at Jon and asked,"What do you mean? I had it on good authority from the people of this town that he was a good druid. How would you know him if he is from this town anyways?"

"Because, McCullen, unlike you I am not afraid to admit I visit the seedier sides of town." Jon looked at Bronwen. "I do not know what game this man plays Princess but that is no druid."

"I beg to differ sire, I am as much a druid as any who wears their robes." The man said quietly.

Bronwen looked at them all, tears filled her eyes. She did not know who to believe.

Seth looked to her and said,"I was promised that this man was a druid from more than one good source here. If there is any fault it is in Sanglett's words. Please my love, believe me. If you do not, we will find another druid. Either way I love you and I want us to be together always."

Sanglet moved foward and at the signal his men did as well. They surrounded the druid and pulled off his robe. The man was armored and wore a sword beneath it. "He deceives you princess." Sanglet said simply.

Bronwen gasped for druids did not wear swords and armor. She did not know what to do. She was bound to Seth by the gold cord still.

"How much were you paid, curr." Sanglet demanded.

The man was clearly outnumbered. "He paid me 10 pounds. He said it would be an easy job and none the wiser." The man's eyes rolled with fear. "I am sorry milord. I didn't know she was a princess." The druid turned into a whining mass.

Bronwen gasped and her eyes flew to Seth's. "You paid him to pretend to marry us? Why?"

Seth growled at the false druid and Sanglett and said,"I have been decieved and somehow you are responsable for this Sanglett." He turned to Bronwen and said,"i swear I had no idea he wasn't a druid. I never paid anyone to pretend to be a druid and i certainly wouldn't do it for our marriage. I love you and I would want it to be real and would settle for no less than such."

Bronwen untied their hands. Tears filled her eyes. It did not matter which of them did the deed of a false druid, the fact was, he was not one and she was unwed and with child. She looked up at Seth, pain reflecting in her eyes. "Why would he say you did?"

"He's a liar and perhaps Sanglett has paid him to make it appear i did. i do not know, but I swear to you that I did not arrange for a false druid. I swear on my life."Seth said seriously.

"That is not much of an oath." Said Sanglet mockingly.

Seth ignored that and said,"You know me better tha anyone else possably could and you know I would not do this. I love you and you also know Sanglett is nothing but a coniving man who may still be trying to pull us apart. We cannot let him do it, because we love each other. Please my love, what do you say?"

"There is no priest?" She pointed out. "There is no druid so there is no marriage. Maybe I should just go home." She muttered with defeat.

"I'm sure we could find a true druid this very day and be married my love. Please do not lose heart love,"he said desperate to piece together what he believed Sanglett had elaborately fixed to fall apart.

"Aye, let us find you another false preist McCullen. Or you will never wed her before she blossoms." The men around Sanglet chuckled. "Come Princess, return with me and have the Father of our faith marry us properly. Can you not see that this ill bred oaf cannot hope to give you what you need. Look where you slept last evening?"

Tears began to fall down Bronwen's cheeks. She was beginning to chill. She was frightened and confused. She wished her brother or father were here. They would know what to do. Bronwen had not a clue.

Seth moved infront of Sanglett blocking him from view entirely and said,"Please do not cry my love. Do you not see what he is doing. He is manipulating just as he did before. We can return if that is your wish, but i beg of you to not return with such a man. I love you and can never stop loving you. Please trust me as you alwasy have my love." he was staring into her eyes showing love,concern, and aguish over what had happened.

Bronwen was silent for a long moment. Then Jon let out an angry snort. "Fine Princess, you have made your bed, you lie in it. I have tried to save your family from disgrace by witnessing your marriage. But if you leave with this man without chaperone, you will be so disgraced that it will be beyond ruin."

Bronwen turned on Sanglet, anger flashing in her eyes. "Better to be called a whore then your wife."

Seth dared not intrude upon her anger as he cpould see it in her eyes. He nodded to Sanglett telling him with his eyes to get the hell out. Seth had figured that this had to of been setup by Sanglett. He just hoped that Bronwen didn't hate him for how the day had turned out.

"I, Princess, wouldn't offer you my name again if my life depended on it. For I will not bed another man's whore." Sanglet beckoned his men to him. The princess disgrace was now complete. There was no way these men's tongues would be held and they had seen that Sanglet had attempted to rescue the princess from her folly and she had spurned him.

Seth now spoke and said,"Leave then. You have no business here." Seth was defiant and staring sanglett down.

Sanglet left chuckling as he did so. His work here was done. He had brought with him the most talkative of his men.

Bronwen waited till he was out of sight and then turned to the druid, but he was not there. "Where did this so called priest go?"

Seth looked around and said,"He escaped and I'll bet you Sanglett arranged him. He's alwasy hated the fact that we are together. Perhaps he did soemthing to the original priest and replaced hi mwith a loyal servant of his."

"It does not matter. We are far from home and we are not wed. We cannot go back? What should we do?" Bronwen's tears misted up with unusual emotion. She hated that she should come so close to tears so often of late.

"We can find another town my love and be wed there. Do you wish to do so?" He asked with concern. He knew she had been through very much as of late.

"I don't want to stay here." She answered.

"We can move on and find a new druid. Would you rather just leave this town and rest somewhere first?"He asked wanting her thoughts on the table.

"I want to leave." She answered. "Sanglet knows we are here. We should go."

Seth nodded and said,"I'll get the horses ready." He offered his arm still trying to be half chivalrous. Bronwen waived him off. "I wish to be alone for a few minutes whilst you prepare to leave."

Seth nodded and went off to arrange for their departure sure that she was veyr upset and he felt like a failure in her eyes. He would have to see.

The body of the stag lay crumpled under a tree, it's chest still rising and falling erratically. Drych sidled over to the beast, a cocky expression already obvious as he surveyed the results of his handywork. "Dam' fine strike, as I said so," he said happily. He withdrew a long hunting knife and moved around nearer to the head to finish it off.

Amlyn thought briefly about the medicine Niall had given him, but it was clear that it would be wasted. A quick death was the best that the beast could hope for. As he watched Drych begin the work of cutting the animal's throat, he wondered about any reason why the positions shouldn't be reversed. The killing of any animal was something he genuinely never paid much concern for, but in this case he could claim to be as superstitious as the next man. The omens were bad, and Drych should be made to pay. The prospect of enforcing it didn't give him much motivation however. It was just as likely things would be looking up from now on.

As if in direct contradiction of Amlyn's thoughts, Drych cried out and slumped over the carcass of the stag as a arrow found it's mark in his back. Amlyn spun around and began to take long steps to the sword strapped to his horse, as the forest around him came to life. There was some some yelling from behind as he began to reach out for the pommel, and a flurry of movement to his left preceeded a smashing blow to his skull. The world then felt like an earthquake, the ground shifting and spinning around his head furiously. He almost fell over there and then, but instead he caught his fall, taking another agonising step and colliding with his horse, knocking himself to the ground. Flailing about did him little good, as many hands then grabbed Amlyn, and a fist put him beyond any last vestige of the waking world.

**********

Amlyn swam up from the bottom of unconsciousness. The cool, dark embrace of the sea in his first delirious moments of wakefulness actually turned out to be the icy and foul smelling residue from a wooden bucket thrown over him. He was lying on a cold, hard floor of stone. His skull felt like someone had reached in through his mouth with a hot iron and then pulled it inside out. A bag had been placed over his head, but he did not have much opportunity to ponder the origin of such a mask, for rough hands then clawed about his face and tore the covering away. More darkness, mingled with blurry images of a source of light, a lantern perhaps. Silhouetted figures began to move about.

"What do we do?" The one guard demanded.

"Hell, I don't know. The mistress probably would question him and then kill him."

The second swore. "Guess we better do the same."

Mistress?... Amlyn tried to get up, and found that they had not even bothered to restrain him. But it felt as if the entire room was rotating about his head, and the ache from his bruises and the time spent lying on a cold hard surface made his muscles rigid and sore. Sitting up was the best he could manage, and even that was under great duress.

"Best not move much, my friend has a desire just to severe your head where you sit." Said a scathing voice.

"I did not realise I was such a threat," muttered Amlyn. He waited, allowing his eyes time to adjust. The objects about the room began to take on recognisable shape.

The room was some kind of cellar. There were racks of wine and ale casks. The room had no windows, and very little ventilation as evidence by the amount of building smoke from the torches. The door was large and wooden with small grates in the upper half. Amlyn had been tossed down in a heap of molded straw. The smell of ripening tubers and fruit filled the cool air. "Depends on why we've had to bring you here," answered the other one lazily. He was cleaning his fingernail with a knife. He leaned against the door clearly unhappy with the situation. The first guard was a slightly older man, his stance was more battle seasoned and his sword while not drawn, was not far from his hand.

"Shut up Cedric. We will take him in. I am sure there is more then one use for a man of his stature. He obviously is important." The man held up Amlyn's sword and looked at it with admiration.

For a brief moment Amlyn thought about making a reckless lunge for the sword, but then he remembered that the other guard would cut him down before he could even get off the floor. He looked about the room again and thought morosely that getting drunk would be pretty easy if he was ever left alone and unbound in this room. "Aren't you going to question me?" he said, in way of a reminder. He needed to rest, but he couldn't do it while these two guards worked out what they were going to do. Neither did he see any sense in bravado or being smart-mouthed.

"Later. You stay here for now and we will see what our... leader wishes done with you." The second said, he motioned the other man out. The two left Amlyn to his own resources and barred the door from without.

Amlyn crawled over to the mound of hay and did his best to scrape up as much of the cleanest straw as he could find. Settling down to try and find sleep, he would have been surprised at the ease in which he found his eyes closing and his consciousness ebbing. But of course, darkness took him before that very thought could be fully formed.

Alterian sent immediately to the kitchens to prepare for a journey for the King. A cook would be sent along with Sir Shannon and Dame Mae if he could find them in time. This would be in addition to the guards that had been gifted to the King. He waited for the two knights to attend him as he sent page after page running with missives and directions.

Mae quietly hummed a tune as she ran a brush through the sleek white coat of her horse. She had been training the new soldiers and was rarely seen outside her work. The day had been slow and she took the free time to take a ride with her mare and the pair had just returned from their little jaunt.

A page ran up. "The King commands your presence. You have till the bottom of the hourglass to have your things ready to depart on a mission in attendance of the king."

Mae's heart skipped a beat. Finally away from this mundane training and on to a task fit for a knight of her abilities. She turned to a young stablehand, "You there boy, ready my horse."

She took Satchel's muzzle and pulled it towards her face. "Be Nice." She ordered and kissed his cheek. Brushing back her bangs she ran back into the castle to pack.

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Shannon was finishing the edge upon a sword whish he had just completed. taking long broad strokes with his hone. He was lost in thought wondering what tomorrow would bring when the page ran up delivering the same information. "Where are we to meet?"

"Outside the main steps by the bottom of the hour, milord." The page answered. He ran off before Shannon could answer. Twenty minutes later, horses and supplies awaited the two knights and the King.

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"Blaen, Gwawl!! Prepare for battle. We ride with the king! ...And get that whoreson Galen up from the Swan!" Vaughan bellowed at the two off duty guards.Taking up his own weapons and sack, he fairly vaulted out the door of the guards' quarters. Blaen and Gwawl immediately scrambled for their own weapons and kit.

"Finally the young whelp leaves the kennel!" a smiling Blaen said, belting his kilt and grabbed his spear.

"You should shut your hole about the 'young whelp' lest he stop it up with his fist," Gwawl replied with a smile.

Gathering up the last of their gear, the two bolted to stable. Sending a page to find Galen, they quickly prepared their small hill ponies to ride, and were soon awaiting the arrival of the king.

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Hawk had packed lightly after he had said goodbye to his mother and father. His father had not been pleased to see his son leave like that. But both his parents understood that he needed to get away to stay sane. He had not talked to is little sister, he couldn't do that. But he had told his mother to assure her that he would keep his promise to return.

Hawk Met the assembled nights and bodyguards down the stairs. "I am glad to see you all so soon. We ride now, and we ride fast. I have serious reason to think that my sister is in great peril so we have to save her."

Shannon bowed before the king. While fixing his pack to his mount he smiled to himself, ' Finally, some action, I was beginning to think that I was to flounder in the forge.' He looked to the king ready to travel.

The four bodyguards sat stoically on their rugged ponies waiting for the others to mount, their nostrils pouring forth clouds of steam into the cold damp morning air. To a distant observer the close huddled quartet of outlanders, bundled in their kilts and bristling with spears and other weaponry, would have looked more like a fire breathing hedgehog than a body of men.

Hawk had mounted by now. He was very impatient to get going. Because his sister's elopement was his own idea, he had a pretty good idea in which direction to search for her. So now without waiting if the others were ready, he spurred his horse and galloped out of Castle court yard.

The outlander guards spurred their ponies to follow, splitting into pairs in order to flank the king as he road.

Shannon spurred his mount to follow. Since no one had issued a riding order he fell to the rear, not minding to eat others dust, he felt safer in the knowledge that he didn't have to rely upon someone else to watch his back.

"Thank you, Master Alterian, but I will attend to myself and meet you at the stable in half an hour's time," said the outlander in a voice that was entirely stoic.

Avalynn stepped rigidly from the chamberlain's office, her face an indecipherable mask of the torment which encompassed her being. Like a spectre, she traveled silently through the castle, oblivious to the living. She was not herself this day; she was undoubtedly lost. A lord bent forward and offered greeting, yet Avalynn floated past him, her gaze affixed to a distance that did not exist. A lady smiled in a pleasant salutation, but the outlander simply did not see, and it was not until she reached her room and was safely within the walls of her chamber before she awoke from her unearthly daze.

In a sudden fit of rage, Avalynn tore the fur cloak from her back and threw it violently to the floor. Again and again she beat and pounded the hapless garment, her teeth bared and sienna hues ablaze. "Damn you! Damn you!" The outlander shouted as she pummeled the cloak with her white-knuckled fists. Finally, when her energy was spent and her exasperation had ebbed, the woman rose from her knees and abandoned the fur cape that lay mangled at her feet. Mindlessly, she grabbed a replacement from her wardrobe and threw it over her shoulders. When she turned to exit the room, however, Avalynn was met with a disturbing sight.

Her mouth slightly ajar, she stared at her reflection in the large full-length mirror that lined her closet door... she stared at the image of a ragged, drained, and troubled Avalynn, an Avalynn she had not seen in many months, whose eyes were red and strained and deeply set with sorrow. Closing her mouth, the outlander corrected her expression with one of stern determination. "It's not done yet, Ava," she spoke quietly to the image. "Not yet." And then the moment had passed. Avalynn exited her chamber, her stride bent on a path toward the royal stables.

Other then when he was brought a weak gruel and stale bread, Amyln had not seen his captors. Suddenly the door flew open and the room was flooded with light. Three men stood with weapons drawn. "Stand up, ya curr, the mistress wishes to see you."

Amlyn said nothing but allowed his hand to be bound to his waist so that he only had about eight inches of movement. Then he was roughly dragged outside and helped upon a horse. Once their prisoner was mounted they headed out. It was clear that they were headed back towards Alban.

Amlyn made no effort to escape or talk to his captors, for he thought that it would serve little purpose, except to perhaps give his guards a reason to create more discomfort for him. Instead, he withdrew back into his shell and shut off the outside world. As a result, all that may have happened around him flew by like a daydream. The places and paths that they travelled weren't familiar anyhow, and it was clear that his captors had little interest in banter or polite conversation. So Amlyn relaxed behind the blinds he drew closed to all, and to anyone who watched he appeared placid and dull, blending to an almost invisible state.

After another unknown period of time, the bag was roughly replaced over his head, and he entered a void of darkness once again. Deciding that he would probably be meeting this 'mistress' soon, he took the opportunity to doze, and conserve his energy.

Once again, rough hands seized him and he was pulled from the horse. The bag was not removed till he once again found himself in a dank small place. However, there was a difference here. A fire was going and a bath was laid before the fire. A meal had been set upon a small wooden table and a set of clothing was laid out as well. "Mistress wants ya to bathe and eat then she will see you."

The guard left him alone. It took only a cursory glance to realise that the door had been locked behind him, and that there was no other way out of the room. So Amlyn ate his fill of the meal, but tasted none of it. He then washed his skin in the bath, but neither the long and livid scars of the flesh or the mind were cleansed. And finally he dressed in the clothing provided. But he still felt naked. There was nothing left to do now but wait.

An hour later a man entered the room again. He was of a different sort. His clothing was impecable and his stride confident. "You will forgive me milord, but the lady wishes to see you and I am afraid that you may NOT see her. If you will be good as to turn around, I will place this blindfold upon you and lead you to her. I warn you, good knight, that to remove this cloth in her presence will end your life." The man waited for Amlyn to turn.

Once again, he cooperated. These people took no chances, so in return he took none as well. It was all very covert and secretive, and he would learn nothing until this 'meeting' was conducted. It came to Amlyn that his life could very well end after whatever happened next. But a part of him didn't really seem to care. It was clear he had failed. He had been captured easily, his fight had been fleeting and poor from his behalf, and he no longer had any confidence left in his abilities. Promises for Lady Melangell to strike a blow for good were now empty and hollow words, like ghosts in his memory that he had trouble believing he had made.

Amlyn was gently blindfold and then led up the stairs. A few minutes later, the warmth of a good fire could be felt as well as a difference in the air he breathed. He was pushed into a chair. The man who had guided him took only a scant few paces from him and waited. Only a few moments passed when the door opened. The scent of lavender and heather filled the room as a light step approached. "So YOU are Sir Amlyn?" The voice was soft and melodious.

The tone of her words confused him for a moment. "You were expecting someone else, my lady?" he said after a pause. Her accent was vaguely familiar, even if her voice was not.

"I do not know what I was expecting. So grand a man that strangers are pitted against him would seem to be of a larger nature in either personality or presence." She answered thoughtfully.

"I am sorry to disappoint you then," Amlyn replied. "I am nothing, apart from what you see before you." As if to emphasise his comment, he shifted what was left of his dismembered arm across his waist.

"So tell me why so many hold an interest from you. Why a knight of my homeland would be held in such disdain so far from home?" Morgan's father had been King of Llydaw for some time.

The accent now made sense, but for Amlyn it was another unwelcome intrusion of the past. He was quiet for some time, and just as Morgan was about to speak again, he said, "If you are from Llydaw, then you would understand the sort of actions I have undertaken in the past. Things unthinkable here in Abertawe. Things that have a way of following you around, when other people make it their 'business' to follow and inform everyone else about how 'bad' you are." Amlyn began to feel a sliver of anger growing within.

"Are you 'bad' Sir Amlyn?" Her words seemed to be more of a caress when she spoke...

A image of white and gold broken only by a pair of eyes the colour of jade. That voice... "I am stained, my lady. What I am now is irrelevant, except perhaps as a living memory of darker times." His rage abated and gave way to resignation.

"It matters to me." She whispered in his ear from behind him.

"Why?" he answered. Amlyn began to find the conversation disturbing for the first time. There was something familiar apart from the scent of flowers that he couldn't recognise. But that it was familiar in itself was enough to cause concern.

"Because a Knight of Llydaw is far from home and being set upon by forces he cannot see. I do not wish you to fall prey to men who are not brave enough to face you. I have never admired a man who uses subterfuge alone. As for your actions, I have never held them in abhorence." She said with a laugh. "So tell me, Sir Amlyn, what were you doing so far from the city that my men could stumble across you?"

"It seems I may have found what I was seeking," said Amlyn. "Although in the finding, I have only more questions instead of answers. And I feel compelled to point out that while you appear to be sympathetic to my circumstances, you are one of those unseen forces for the moment." He was still aware of the guard behind his chair, which only brought it home to him that he was still at risk.

Morgan was intrigued. Few things intrigued her anymore. "Then ask, Sir Knight, I am in a generous mood for a change." She said with a laugh. She poured a goblet of wine and went and sat across from the maimed knight.

Amlyn thought carefully about what he should say. It was clear that he had been attacked and taken hostage by forces unfriendly to Abertawe. The area in which it happened could only provide two conclusions: that forces of Nethbo were active within Abertawe's borders, or that he had stumbled onto the Sect. It was unlikely that he would still be alive if he had run into Nethbian soldiers, so that only left...

"Who are you? From the way you talk, it seems we have met before. I wish to know who my captor is before I would decide one way or the other about what to say. Seeing as I am your prisoner I am bound to honour your wishes, but I cannot 'trust' what I cannot see. I will then tell you what you want to know." Which certainly wasn't much, as far as he knew.

"As a warrior, I am sure you understand necessary caution. If I wanted you to know who I was, you would not be blindfolded. You may call me Raven." She answered after a moment of reflection. "And.. I don't expect you to trust me seeing as your are bound and sightless."

Amlyn nodded despite being blindfolded. "So be it," he said. "I am here to look into rumours of the existence of a Sect to Donn. Families from isolated villages have gone missing, and there has been some talk about a 'Raven' who leads them. While I was not specifically tasked by the King to investigate, the matter had been brought to my attention by an old... acquaintance." Then he shrugged. "My questions, apart from your identity, revolve around your motivations. I admit that I am not the sort of person to preach a path of light to someone who treads a road of darkness. But perhaps, by understanding what it is that drives the Sect to perform such cruelty, I can gain some insight into my own disposition."

"I am not ready to divulge my reasons." Morgan answered. "But perhaps, as we get to know one another, I may do so. I do not trust men lightly," she said almost sadly.

Amlyn had a hunch, and played it. "Do you wish to hear a tale about King Costic, at a time before he died?"

"You think you know enough of Costic to tell a tale? By all means, I am interested." A slight tone of amusement filled the lilt of her accent. This man intrigued her. One moment he was questioning her and the next telling stories. She found herself for a change being truly interested. She was tired of men who sniveled and begged for their release. He had not yet asked to be released or ransomed and that in itself made him unique.

Amlyn raised his head, and closed his eyes under the blindfold, sorting through murky memories of that darker road. A part of him remembered Pwyll and his penchant for telling tales. "At one stage," he began, "Llydaw was finished. The armies of Dinodig had marched across the border after years of fighting, and nothing seemed to be able to stop them. At Mancetter, six years ago, we did just that. It took a lot of slash and burn to slow the army down, and even more assassinations and murders to make them stop. But we did it. And that was the beginning.

"However, Costic wasn't interested. Apart from his lack of imagination, he had a problem with being weak when he was needed to be strong, and strong when a weak approach would have been more useful. He wanted to negotiate. He wanted to come to a agreement that would have returned Dinodig's armies to their homeland, and Llydaw would sacrifice several miles of land for new borders. And start again. He demanded an end to the war.

"I ignored his wishes. I continued to fight. A year later we were back to the border, the real border. And Dinodig was on the retreat. Then, Costic decided he wanted to see me. I wasn't really interested, but part of me hoped he would take up the fight again and lend his strength to ours. For despite all the effort and sacrifices, our numbers were low. The Black Knights were hated by both provinces, but we pushed on.

"That meeting was memorable. Costic looked tired and harried, like many of his advisors had been in his ear for far too long, feeding him information and conspiracies when all he needed to do was just act. I told him as much. I was arrogant and pushy at that time, and I hated his weakness. I just wanted to satisfy my own aims.

"He was prepared to offer anything to get me to stop. Land, title, marriage to his daughter, it was all put on the table. I wasn't interested, my head was clouded with revenge and the need to keep driving forward. He then said to me: 'There comes a time when the burdens of responsibility begin to outstrip the burdens of the soul. When that happens, there is little chance for one to redeem themselves of past guilt.'

"Well, I laughed at the time. Six months later, he had no choice but to join in the offensive against Dinodig. But now, more than ever, I can't help but think about those words, and how different things could have been. Costic would be alive for one, and perhaps I would have been happier with who I am. Regardless of whatever wisdom his words may hold, at times I think that he is wrong. Maybe there is a chance that redemption is always available to anyone, despite what they've done. Do you think that is too foolish a hope to cling to, my lady?"

Morgan was quiet for a long moment. Her father had never let her see him as anything but harsh and cruel. That he had ever appeared weak to another seemed an impossibility and yet this man did not seem as one to provocate. "I believe that there comes a moment when one stands on the edge of a cliff of doom. One more deed that falls foul, enough to send one beyond the reach of redemption. I think it is a foolish hope for one falling into the depths of darkness to think anything or anyone would care enough to reach out and save you. One's only hope is dedicating oneself fully to the darkness, to embrace it. But I think it would be far worse to live on the edge of that cliff, neither embracing what is ahead nor returning back to that which could have been. You seem such a man, Amlyn, teetering on the edge, neither willing to step back nor fully embrace what you have let yourself become. I understand revenge. There is not a day that goes by that my heart does not crave it. To forgive oneself or another, is... is sometimes just not possible. The question lies not in whether there is hope, Sir, but whether or not you will forgive yourself and turn back down the path you have chosen." She took a drink and waited for his response.

Revenge was a feeling Amlyn was all too familiar with. But for now it explained enough of her motivations to him. For the first time, Amlyn began to feel a sense of empathy for the Raven, for her voice belied a hurt of which he could begin to fathom. But it would do him no good to pry any further. He wondered if this whole discussion was truly the point of the meeting that had been arranged.

"I disagree with your picture of the cliff. I prefer to think of it as a road. It's length is like a piece of string, unable to be determined. At one end, is the purest of places, devoid of the sins of mankind and a blessing of light to those fortunate enough to obtain it. The other, a pool of utter darkness, of hatred and fury and all the things which make us become evil in itself. All of us occupy different points along this road, and we all travel in different directions, as fate decides to pull or push us. It is possible to reach either place I believe, but what is to stop us from just turning around and walking back down that road? What if we arrive at the end of that dark road and decide 'enough is enough'? Perhaps all it takes is for someone who has seen the darkness to act as a guide for those who choose to want to walk out." At that point, his mind had been made up. There was more here than swords and bloodshed would ever fix.

"So then, you are a man stuck in the middle? From all accounts, you can't make up your mind which way to walk? As for a guide, we both know if I were your guide, I would not lead you to light. So tell me, Sir Gallant, what should I do with a knight that meddles in affairs not of his concern?" She moved to him and stroked a soft hand down his face.

Being blindfolded, Amlyn had not expected the touch. Startled, he was surprised by it's warmth. "I... have seen as much of the darkness as you have. I had purpose in my lust for revenge, and it drove me to the end of that road. When I failed, and my freedom was taken away from me, I had nothing else to do but to sit and reflect on what I had done. Then I started walking back down that road, for I was in a lonely, cold place. That I am half-way now and struggling may mean more to you by knowing that I had started my journey from that darkest of places." He exhaled slowly. "Do what you will, my lady. I have already said that I will abide by your wishes while I am your captive."

"And if I were to release you?" She asked thoughtfully. "What would you do, Sir, if I released you?"

Before Amlyn could think, his mouth worked for him. "I do not wish to leave, unless you specifically request it. For if you were to release me, I would be obliged to report all that I have heard and seen. And the situation would remain unresolved."

"You would rather live in my dungeon... blindfolded into my company?" Her voice held amazement both at his choice and his honesty.

"Aye, my lady." He wasn't prepared to explain. That would be more appropriate once she learnt to trust him a little more. He was a patient man.

"As you will. Consider yourself my prisoner till I release you. I am planning to eat dinner, perhaps you will join me?" The scent of lavender and heather rose up as she reached down and gently removed the blindfold. She moved in front of him, a slender woman in a deep ruby gown. Her hair was like goldenstraw ripening in the sun. Her eyes were the color of Jade. "Do you remember me, Sir Amlyn?"

Wide-eyed with shock, Amlyn nodded. "I admit I feel the fool now. I did not expect to be telling a story of Costic to his own daughter. But things do make more sense now." A look of sadness came across Amlyn's face. "I served your father poorly, my lady. I went against his wishes and I ultimately caused his death. You have my condolences for what little they are worth. I cannot say he was a good man, but that makes little difference to one's family." Amlyn had met Morgan briefly in passing, within the walls of the castle in the capital, as the reports of the steady advance of Dinodig's forces began to flood in. It was the beginning of his ascension, or decline depending on how he looked at it. Newly gifted with a black sword, he had just met with the King, who was beginning to lose confidence and will. What was said was not important, but it was a defining moment in which he had decided to rebel. Passing out through the corridors, he had come accross a young woman his age, dressed in white and gold and with light green eyes and rich blond hair. Her retainers had the garb of the religious, and Amlyn had heard enough of the court talk to realise that it was the King's daughter Morgan, in-training as a priestess to one of the pagan gods. Annoyed beyond belief at the folly of her father, Amlyn could not help but approach her, bowing briefly to raise her attention. "My lady," he had said firmly.

The lady had smiled at him warmly. "Good Evening, Sir and well met." She had started to pause but a matronly woman led her firmly away... and that was it. He had watched her be dragged away with mixed feelings of mostly anger and consternation. At the time all he could think of was how... disassociated the royal family had become with what he considered to be the 'real' world at the time. Morgan's words in the 'now' disturbed his remeniscences.

"My father was a cruel man, I did not mourn his passing, only the loss to my prestige," she answered. For when Llydaw had fallen, the strutting King Arrian had let his allies destroy all of her family. Only three daughters remained, Alanis, Meagan and herself. She wondered if this man knew she had been tried as a witch in Dinas Dwr or that her husband, the King of Caer Dyvi had died trying to save her life. She had no reason to trust those who said they followed a path of goodness. In her eyes, those who claimed to be godly were often more evil then she had been portrayed.

While the discussion of Costic's death had made him uncomfortable, Amlyn suddenly felt self-conscious without the blindfold. It was much easier to relax and talk freely with the removal of one's perception of self and surroundings, but now he felt nervous and wary. The opulence of the living room, the unfamiliar lines of the furniture and walls, and the palpable presence of Lady Morgan all had an effect on him. He felt like a broken spoke in a wheel, or a patch of mud on clean white sheets. It was all just...wrong.

"You... have changed much from what little I remember," he said.

"One changes as the years pass." Morgan offered. "Come, we will eat dinner."

"As you wish," he replied. He had eaten before being brought up to see the Raven, but it would be a good chance to reorient himself within his surroundings. And who knows when his next meal might be.

The night had been long but pleasant, and Amlyn eventually found himself in new accommodations that were more comfortable but just as secure. Apart from the thick wooden door, a narrow casement window was the only other means of exit from the room, but it was far too skinny for Amlyn to even consider squeezing through. There was a single bed in one corner and a table against the other, on either side of the window which faced the door accross the room. Several pieces of parchment and a pot of ink with a pen rested in a neat pile on the table. Hanging on the wall was a lit lantern that casted a clean and healthy light throughout the narrow room. A chair rested forlorn and alone in front of the desk.

The door closed behind him and Amlyn paused for a few moments to take in the room and it's contents. Perhaps it had been a storeroom of some kind, hastily converted into guest quarters. The writing equipment was his only request of Lady Morgan, which had been granted on the condition that she could preview whatever he decided to write. He had planned to take the opportunity to put down some of his thoughts into some sort of narrative, but they would not be very private. Maybe that would be in his favour.

Lady Morgan was a charming host, full of a vibrant wit and possessing an intelligent disposition. She had done most of the talking, recounting tales and stories from Llydaw about people they both knew. Amlyn did not have the heart to tell her that he had met many just in passing. In fact, most of them he knew almost nothing about, and those he did, more often or not he did not like them much at all. Yet he listened to the lilt of her voice, and made enough comments to keep the conversation moving. Morgan seemed to have a knack for helping the chatter along, drawing out responses and interaction with a practiced ease.

But something lurked underneath her polished and attractive exterior. Nothing overly sinister, but she appeared to be driven and focussed on another matter. He suspected there was a crueler side, a part of her willing to take risks and commit dark deeds in order to get what she wanted. It was a side befitting a priestess of Donn, and he recognised it only too well. In a way, that helped him understand her more. Getting to the cause of the problem would be a difficult task however.

For his own part, he thought he made a poor guest. He had felt like a spectator, a man trapped in a painting on the wall and forced to look out from the canvas at an alien and unreachable world. Amlyn could never remember a time when he had sat down and enjoyed a meal. Food was... well, food, eaten when one was hungry. He had no taste for wine and he was not used to participating in conversation while eating. Morgan was persistant however, and patient. That much was indeed clear.

He walked accross to the table and pulled out the chair, taking a seat. The faintest glimmer of starlight could be seen through the window, like watchful eyes in the dark. He paid them no attention, and gently picked up the pen, dunking it carefully in the well and scraping off any excess. Then he began to write...

...Remorse is useless. Angst for those long dead serves no purpose, and I feel no sorrow for them. I remember some faces, but most are shades, unknown now and forever, unless my dreams throw up strange faces from the deep abyss. What can I do for them? There are no reparations I can give, no apologies I can make, nothing to erase what has already been written in cold hard stone, on the pages of what has already been.

Yet I have many regrets. In the sunset of my life, I will look back and think not what great deeds I have done or what great battles I have fought for honour and glory... instead, I will mourn the lost opportunities and the spilt blood. All for what I now know to be a lost, and ultimately worthless cause of revenge. If only I was a builder of great monuments, or a man of extended family, or a sage of great prophecies. For my name, if remembered, will be cursed more than it shall be praised. My actions, if remembered, will be regarded as brutal and violent, without tempered mercy or rational reasons.

Regret is as useful as remorse. While I lack remorse, I hold regrets. Neither serves any purpose, but I am only human. I am on that road, neither looking forward to the light, or looking back to the dark. I am held firm only by my regrets, and the belief that I can do nothing better. But I am not special. There are many other people on this road, and all walk as they choose to. As they think they choose to. For fate is the unseen hand, guiding everyone to their destination. Hence, I am not stuck. Instead, I am held by a hand of fate. It is not distance that determines one end of the road to the other. But time.

It is often said that our 'conscience' consists of the voices of the ghosts of our ancestors, whispering their wisdom into our minds. Wisdom earnt from lessons learnt by making painful mistakes. I have ignored mine for far too long...

...Amlyn placed the pen back into the well and blew out the light from the lantern.

****

He dreamt.

His room in the now. His cell from the past. Elements from both merged together, blending seamlessly into one another.

Sitting on the bed, he could see the table. It was covered in written pages, stacked a hands width tall on top, in scattered piles. Some fell on the floor, and he could make out the writing on them. None of the words seemed to make any sense.

In the middle of the floor, rested a jerfalcon. He remembered it from a dream a long time ago. Around it's talons, a small chain had been fastened, unattached to any object that might make it held fast. The window was open, and sunlight streamed through it, casting a golden square over the bird like a net. Instead of flying out the window and into that glorious light, it waited. And waited.

Amlyn moved towards it, but it made no movement to back away or escape. It seemed content. And then, for a brief moment, he could see himself through the eyes of the bird of prey. He was cast in shadows, a ghost of tones of gray. But as his hands passed under the sunlight, the colour began to melt into his skin, and he could feel the warmth begin to travel through his skin, along his arm and up across his face...

"Wishing and awanting and awaiting..."

**Renalla's Quarters, castle**

"I have to look perfect, Jean. If I am going to see him, I must be PERFECT." Renalla insisted, batting at the middle-aged maid's hands. "Not that hairpin!" she cried.

Muttering about ungrateful wenches, Jean let her mistress' hair fall down her back. "De'e done mis'," Jean said, backing out of the room.

Nodding, Renalla barely noticed her leaving. "I will see Sparrow, I must see Sparrow." Renalla repeated under her breath. Clapping for joy she picked up her skirts and hurried out of the castle. Slipping through the secret passage, she hurried into the forest.

Clucking loudly four times, she awaited for the signal. It came in the form of her beloved bounding through the bushes. Enveloping her in a large hug, Sparrow kept on running.

"Sp-Sparrow!" Renny gasped surprised. He was fairly crushing her! "Whu-What?"

"Bear, we gotta lose him. Your ma--" he sneered the word "sent him to watch over me." glancing back once, he slowed the pace enough to let her go. "Sorry little one, couldn't risk his finding me with you."

Renny nodded, flexing her back and rubbing her sore ribs. *Must speak to him about that...* she thought, studying his profile. *He is lovely...* she sighed. "I missed you." she whispered, tracing one design done the side of his face.

Sparrow covered her hand with his. "You're cold! Haven't you been keeping warm?" he scolded, holding her tightly. "you know how cold you get..."

*I miss this...* Renny thought as he went on to list her other supposed 'infirmeries'. *Just standing together, not thinking of the future.*

A sound alerted them to a person's presence. Quick as lightening Sparrow had her in his arms and running again. He stopped when Bear's large frame blocked his view. "I taught you that trick Sparrow. Shame on you for not realizing."

Sparrow laughed hollowly. "Tell the leader now? Caught us you did."

"Bear..." Renny started, clasping Sparrow's waist when he set her down again. "A little bit won't hurt. Nothing else but one kiss? You don't know the troubles I am having!"

"You're supposed to tell me illyana, you know that. That's the orders." Bear told her sternly.

Renny glared at him through half-closed lids. "I will not have my plan ruined Bear. I will not have mother telling me its a bad plan. Its my plan. I will see it to fruitation!" Renny told him angrily.

Bear stared at the two for a moment, reflecting how different they were. Sparrow in threadbare shorts and an open vest; markings all over himself and Renny dressed as a lady--admittedly a very tousled lady--clutching each other. *How long will it last? This love...this union?* Bear asked, glancing at the Heavens as if for answer. At last he turned his back to them.

Overjoyed, Renny lifted her face to Sparrow. As always his kiss made her feel thirsty for more. *I should tell him of Seth...of our kiss...* Renny thought absently, moulding herself to his frame. *No...not now...later...*

*The maiden her heart full of sorrow watched her lover disappear at last. The love they shared wroughting nothing but her last breath.* Bear thought depressed, the quote from an old story he was told as a lad. *Unfortunately for them, the maiden will not end her own life--another will.*

No one could fault Gwynne for rudeness. For he was not the gregarious, large bellowing fellow that men and women of the day enjoyed to be around, he was a polite man even though he was shy and reserved on the surface. There was a kind heart deep down in his soul somewhere, people just didn't know how to bring it out of him. He had built his life on honor, and honor pervaded politeness on many levels.

It was just a few days ago that Gwynne had carried the little Princess back to the castle. It was customary for a Knight to make sure the lady he saved was recuperating well, and regardless of the lass's age, he would be true to the creed of his knightly profession.

So it was that he found himself standing in front of the little lass's door. He knocked hesitantly, and waited for a reply.

A guard answered the door. "What ye be wanting here?" He asked gruffly. "I have come to inquire of the girl's health and wellbeing, I was the one who found her and brought her back here. I placed her in her bed just two days ago, please let me pass so I might visit with the little lass," Gwynne replied.

Rowena was sitting in a window seat. Her dolls arrayed around her. She did not look up as the knight approached, having gained passage from the guards. "Good day, milord." She answered politely.

"Greetings Princess, do you remember me?" Gwynne asked, not sure if the lass was well enough to know who he was, or what had happened between them.

"You are the knight who rests beneath the old oak tree." She answered softly. A doll was clutched to her chest.

"Aye, your majesty, on the day we met I was under the oak tree watching the people of the city. I was contemplating nature and there you were sneaking out of the castle. You fainted in Morgan's room at the Inn, and I brought you back here so the healer's could attend you. Are you feeling better lass?" Gwynne asked, smiling at her little doll. So small and sweet was this little lass.

"I am fine." She answered, her words sounded rehearsed.

"Do not lie little one, I must watch out for you and make sure you recover. What ails you lass and I shall find a way to restore your health and vitality? I have extensive knowledge of herbs and ancient medicine," Gwynne replied with a smile.

"I am going to leave soon. I might not come back." She answered softly.

"Nay lass, your brother and family wish you to remain here and have placed you under guard. I have sworn to protect your family and you, you will be fine and grow up here to be a beautiful princess some day, right here in Alban," Gwynne replied.

"Nay, I am to be a druid." She reminded him.

Gwynne looked at the little lass, showing a slight smile, "Princess, every girl dreams of being something at your age, but why have you chosen a druid? What excites you about their life?" he asked, thinking it was just a little girl's fantasy.

"I was meant to be a druid. I love the planets, the animals, the land, I can hear it breathe and grow." she said dreamily. "and I love knowledge. These things as a druid will be my life."

"I love knowledge as well," Gwynne replied, he could tell she seemed quite happy with the idea, almost content in the dream. "What about being a little princess?" Gwynne asked curiously.

"Princesses are useless unless they marry well and bring title or land to a family. I don't ever want to marry. Boys are disgusting." She answered indignantly.

Gwynne couldn't help but laugh at her naiveté and little girl thoughts. "You know what Princess? I thought the same thing of girls when I was your age, little boys think little girls are disgusting and other little girls think the same thing as you about little boys. I guarantee you that when you're older you'll grow out of it. I do not think your brother, the King, will approve of you not marrying and becoming a druidess," he told her carefully, trying to judge how she'd respond.

"He has already given me permission to train with the Archdruid." She said with a laugh. "You should not second guess your king. My brother is .. a man of his own mind."

"Indeed," Gwynne replied, taken off guard by not realizing the King would allow such a thing.

"You LIKE Lady Morgan, don't you?" She asked in almost an accusation.

Gwynne smiled, he was blushing a bright shade of blood red. "She is fetching," is all he would say in reply, "Besides such things are not discussed with little girls," he smiled and looked away from the princess. He was clearly embarrassed.

"It will be." She looked down at her dolls. "Thank you for your concern, Sir Knight." She replied properly as Isa had taught her.

"I am pleased to watch over you little one, part of my vow to this Kingdom," Gwynne replied, and then paused and asked, "what will be?"

"Discussed with me." She said with a grin. "You like her and she is evil."

"Why would I discuss such feelings with a little girl?" Gwynne laughed. "I have not seen any evil in this kind lady, she is as generous as she is beautiful," he replied. Gwynne had been mesmerized and hypnotized by Morgan's beauty as were all men who came in contact with her.

"Many horrid things are hidden in a beautiful shell." She answered. She turned her attention back to her dolls. Here she was safe, she could not leave the castle, that much she knew. Hawk would keep her safe.. but Hawk was not here?

"And a veil unfurled can sometimes reveal a cherished treasure," Gwynne replied knowingly.

Rowena trilled with delight. "You know your fables. I love fables." She sighed. "I can't read them anymore.

"I would be happy to read you a fable your majesty, would you like that lass? I can read in four languages, so perhaps I may know of some fables you've never heard before," Gwynne replied. There was something about this little girl that he liked, he found himself uncharacteristically wanting to see her smile and make her happy, and even help her in any way he could. She was like his sister, though the princess was much younger, he had missed taking care of his sister, and missed being with her.

Gwynne hadn't found anyone here he could really talk too, and he could rationalize reading a fable to the little princess, as part of his sworn chivalric duty to the girl.

"I would like that. Can we do it later. I am tired right now." She said very prettily.

"Aye lass, all you have to do is request me, and I shall come and read you as many fables as you like," he smiled at her and, "rest well, when you wish a fable, I shall come and read to you," Gwynne bowed low in respect to her royal blood and heritage and started for the door.

Rowena listened till he was gone and then pulled out the medallion. She fingered the raven as vivid to her fingers as it would have been to another' sight. She knew no one would believe her but the archdruid.. she said a silent prayer that the gods would send him home.

Morgan was up very early. It was clear this knight that was sent to her was not really much use to her as a warrior. What had the man in the inn wanted him subverted to? She had to many questions. She decided she needed more answers and wrote the persistent gentleman using the contact he had mentioned. Alluding to the fact that she knew who had what they had discussed, she signed her name. The letter would be routed through the inn.

Morgan then went down to break her fast and had her guest sent for. She had too many questions, her attempts to draw him out last night had done little good. She decided to take another direction. She laid out a bag of herbs and chose carefully an oil that was prepared to relax one's victim. She carefully wiped the inside of Amylyn's cup and quickly put the bag away. The oil had an almond flavor and with the tea she had chosen for the day, should go unremarked. He did not need much of it anyway.

By the time Amlyn was brought in to her, a meal of fish, breads and eggs was laid out along with both juice of the apple and a warm tea. She stood as he entered. "I hope you slept easy, milord?"

"Aye," he replied. "The room was quite comfortable." Amlyn did not notice that Morgan's mood had changed somewhat this morning. His mind seemed elsewhere.

"Come, break fast with me." Morgan sat down and began to fill her plate. She poured tea in her cup and then looked at Amlyn, "tea milord?"

He nodded, examining the spread before him. It seemed excessive for a morning meal, but then again last night's feast was hardly a pauper's rations. As Morgan poured the tea, Amlyn watched her. "My lady," he said, "what is it that you want?"

"I have not decided. I could ask you the same question." She pointed out. She smiled at him. "I could use a man like you. But I doubt you would ever agree to my service and even if you did, I don't know that I would trust you?"

"Could you ever trust anyone?" Amlyn replied. "Apart from yourself?"

"I did once." Her eyes clouded with pain and then she forced it away and smiled at him.

His thirst parched from the previous night, Amlyn took a swig of the tea. "You have not asked me what I want yet, my lady." He placed the cup gently back down on the table, and reached inside his shirt, pulling out a folded sheet of coarse paper. Morgan could see much in the way of writing on it, as Amlyn laid it down in the middle of the table and the edges began to unfold slowly, almost of their own accord. "I want you to understand that I am not being charitable or righteous. I don't want to preach to you of good and light. For I know that those words mean nothing to you, as they mean nothing to me. I want the killing to stop. And I want to stop killing. If that answer sounds too simple, then of course you're right. But thats the only way I can put it into words. Maybe this," he gestured to the page, "would explain more." He raised his hand to his face and began to rub his eyes.

Megan read the words on the paper. Her eyes thoughtful, she glanced up at him and smiled for she could tell that the oil was already having a slight effect. "The killing will stop when I have what I want." Morgan said calmly. She had no compunctions about what she did. "Well, not counting the god's needs on the rare occasion."

"There are other more subtle ways to go about it. Ways that attract less attention and scrutiny, and raise fewer questions with the powers that rule."

"Perhaps, but I can guarantee that no one would willingly give up that which I seek." She smiled. "But I have found it now, so the killing will stop. Does that please you, Amlyn?" She asked softly.

"I am... concerned, my lady," he replied, a little fuzzily. "I do not know what is so important to you that you would kill in order to get it."

"The future, Amlyn, mine.. yours.. anyone I wish to see." She said cryptically. "Tell me, were you looking for me?"

"I... I was looking for the Sect. For the Raven."

"And now that you have found that which you sought?" She said. She got up from her chair and moved beside him, pulling a chair so she could reach him. "Now that you have the raven in your grasp?"

A confused look came across his face. "I don't know. I never knew what I would do... should I actually find her."

"And what should she do with you?" Morgan breathed softly in his ear, stroking his cheek with her free hand.

Amlyn was silent, clearly lost for words. While part of him enjoyed her caress, the colder more rational side insisted that he was being manipulated and teased. But even now, that part of him was beginning to recede into a fog that billowed out from nowhere.

"Come Amlyn, tell me. What should I do with you? Would you serve the very Raven that you sought? Would you kill it if you could?" She breathed in his ear.

"No...I could not kill her. Not after what happened to her father. I would have more of her family's blood on my hands. I would serve her only in... in hope."

His answer surprised her. "My father's blood is on his own hands, Amlyn. You are not responsible for the evil's he choose to commit. He was not an honorable man." Her own answer suprised her even more and she stood and walked away in confusion. He had drank the tea, what was wrong with her?

Had Amlyn been of half a mind to follow up Morgan's words, he would have done so. Instead, all he could manage was to say, "My service was to the royal family. I pursued my own goals and others suffered. While I have made a pledge to the King of Abertawe, I cannot turn my back on old oaths. I would serve you as I should have served Costic. But I shall not walk old paths to serve those old oaths."

Morgan turned to face him. "When I release you Amlyn, will you betray me?"

"I will not walk old paths to serve old oaths," he repeated. "But I will not betray you." He thought for a moment, which was no easy task. "Would you have rid of me?"

"There will come a day when you will have to choose between your new King and your old oaths. That day concerns me, Amlyn." She walked slowly back to him. "For I cannot stop the path I have begun."

"If it is your fate to do so, then I cannot judge one way or the other, for I do not know what you plan to do." He felt so tired. "Do you plan to follow in your father's footsteps? In my footsteps?"

"My father wished to rule all the isle, I do not. I do not know what drove you to do what you have done. I guarantee that I have done far worse then you have even imagined Amlyn. So I do not follow in your footsteps for I long since surpassed them." She did not wish to kill him. He was a link to all that had been. But to allow him freedom when he had seen her face, a great risk as well. She would have to wait till the princess was in her possession. She sat down next to him. He was older then she and yet she felt just as old and in many ways just as tired. In the far off distance, a babe cried out, its tears brought a pang to her chest. She leaned across and kissed his lips softly. "I will return soon, rest here on the couch or eat as you will."

Amlyn vaguely heard the cry, and felt the touch of her lips. He was startled by both, expecting neither. He was becoming aware that she must have drugged him, and it came as a great disappointment. So much mistrust and caution that only seemed prudent for a person who had done serious and nefarious deeds. The only reason Amlyn had been stopped in his madness, was that he had failed, and failed badly. What would it take to turn Morgan around?

Having lost his appetite, he nevertheless forced himself to eat some bread while Morgan was gone. His movements were slightly slower than usual, but he concentrated. After a few minutes, Morgan re-entered the room. He settled back gently into the chair, waiting for her to quiz him again. His initial annoyance had faded at her mistrust: if this is what it took to get some answers, then so be it.

Morgan noticed he still seemed very relaxed. "I have decided you must leave. It is not safe for you here and you are not safe for me." She said with a tone that brooked no arguement.

"Is that your child?" he asked.

Morgan paused. Usually in such a state, her victims did not ask questions. "Yes." She finally answered.

"May I see... him? Her?"

"Why?" Morgan asked suspiciously.

Amlyn just looked at her. "I... I don't know why. I did not think that you would have children. I shall not harm them. You may chain me if you wish and have a guard."

"I have three children. I need to find the other two." She answered softly. She moved to the door and issued an order. While they waited she explained. "My first born were twins. They were taken by the King of Dinas Dwr. I must win them free." She answered. She did not know why she told him, it just came tumbling out.

Shocked, he just looked at her again. "Why were they taken from you? Was this after the war?"

"I committed a crime against his queen and my sister. He took the children as surety and later tried to kill me. He does not know I live." The maid arrived with her babe. "This is my son, Arrin." She took the babe and showed it to him. Guards waited without, drugged as he was, he wouldn't be able to move too fast.

Even without the effects of the oil, Amlyn would have been too captivated to move very quickly anyhow. The babe had deep blue eyes and golden hair. He was wrapped in soft blue linen. "He's beautiful..." he whispered. The words written on that sheet of parchment briefly came back to his memory, and part of him lamented how quickly he had been reminded of them. '... or a man of extended family...' Amlyn wanted to stretch out his hand and gently run his palm over Arrin's head, but he realised that it would probably make everyone who was watching him panic. Instead, he kept his distance and his gaze on the boy, and said, "What are the names of your other two children?"

"Edhan and Dyvadd.They look like their brother but do not have the blue eyes, but have green as are mine."

He turned away and closed his eyes, fighting his way through the fog. He felt sleepy and he wanted a nice, soft chair, but the rational side kept screaming at him that this was important. "If... I can find these two, and bring them to you, will you exchange them for the end of the Sect?"

Morgan paused. "No one knows where the King has hidden them. They are no longer with him for I have checked repeatedly. How could you find what I cannot?"

"I know someone who might be able to look for them and locate them," he replied. "If not I will go and search for them myself. Perhaps I can persude King Hawk to petition the King of Dinas Dwyr for their return. I will do what I can, my lady. But if I succeed, how important are they to you?"

"Important enough that the sect would leave this borders upon their return if that were the price." She answered. She took her son back to his nurse. "But a petition cannot succeed for I am supposed to be dead. Such an act would merely return a petition for my arrest and return to Dinas Dwr for execution.

"Then I will explore other options." Amlyn did not need to know what Morgan had done to warrant her execution. That information would do nothing to help them in their current circumstances. He asked for more details to identify the two boys and Morgan gave him as accurate a description as she could recall. "I can promise nothing except that I will try. I owe you and your family that much," said Amlyn afterwards.

"Then I will release you." She answered softly. "You may leave in the morning." She would not be here when he left.

"I am happy to go now," he replied. "But I will wait until tomorrow if you wish it."

"If I wish it?" His words gave her pause. Why had she kept him here. Why did she wish anything? She looked at him and realized that she did. "I would be pleased if you would stay. For now, you should rest."

"Aye, rest is... a good suggestion." He bowed briefly before one of the guards appeared at his shoulder to lead him back to his room. Morgan did not waste any more time in hurrying away.

With the door to his room eventually closed behind him, Amlyn moved straight away to collapse onto his bed, still dressed and the darkness of sleep already upon him. The food he had eaten had done a little to soften the blow of whatever substance Morgan had given him, but he was still completely exhausted from trying to 'think'. His slumber was deep and, thankfully, dreamless. The world moved on around him.

Morgan had ridden hard. She wanted to meet Nwython and return to the manor before Amlyn was allowed to leave. She needed to know what that man really wanted. She stopped with two guardsman outside the Swan and jumped off her horse and swept into the inn. she glanced around and finally saw him through the crowd. She didn't even hesitate but swept right to his table. "I would like to see you in the back parlor."

Nwython's eyebrows flickered upwards briefly, but he nodded. He rose to his feet from the table and followed her out of the main area. It seemed she was in quite a hurry. They passed through a dark set of drapes and found themselves in a small room. Nwython organised one of the servants to bring in some wine and cheese. "Please, take a seat... or are you rushed for time?"

"A little rushed but I have ridden hard so I will sit. Why did you want ... certain people to intercede with Sir Amlyn and what exactly did you want to see done?" Morgan went straight to the point as she sunk into the chair wearily.

Nwython allowed a tiny smile to creep into his expression. "Exactly what I had said before, milady. To send him my regards. What your associates may wish to do with him is up to them. I for one would be interested to find out."

"I doubt, Sir, that you are seeking the party you forementioned just to send your regards to an ailing knight. I will not play games, the truth if you please." Her words took a deadly edge.

Well now... thought Nwython. "I doubt you would find the truth any more satisfactory than what I have just told you, but... you are an insistant woman, I'll give you that." He took a seat in front of Morgan and settled himself back. "The simple answer is that I wanted to test the man."

"It would seem, milord, that the man has already been tested to the limits most men could take. He is in the custody of the party you forewarned but I am sent to tell you that the Raven sees no reason to keep him so, unless you have a better offer, she will let him go on the morrow." Morgan's tone was brisk and businesslike. "So the truth of the matter is what she seeks."

Nwython rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The raven intends to let him go... I could not even begin to hazard a guess why she would do so, but of course I don't know the whole story. The 'truth' of the matter is that Amlyn used to be one of my - pupils, for want of a better word. It has been some time since I have seen him, and I wanted to know if things have changed at all. That he has been captured is evidence enough of that I guess. How disappointing..." he frowned.

"The raven's reach is wide and swift. I am not surprised that a man with his limitations was snared. However, I wish to inquire why you would think the Raven should keep him?" Taking him back to his first statement. "After all, they are from the same shire. Perhaps they even have kin?"

This time Nwython could not hide the look of surprise from his face. He had considered that it would have been folly for Amlyn to be released if he had been caught. From all reports, the Sect of Donn had been brutally efficient in disposing of people caught investigating their activities. But the fact that Amlyn and the Raven could actually know one another made things even more startling.

He shifted in his seat, and said "the Raven and Amlyn would not share kin at any recent point in ancestry. And if the Raven would care to keep or release him, then I care little. I am only interested in his abilities... whether or not he has any left in particular."

"Then this whole thing was a pointless waste of time?" She asked angrily. "You wanted this man caught just to see if he could be?"

Nwython nodded. "Yes! There is nothing particularly complicated about my motivations in this instance," he said in an offhand manner. "I don't think you understand enough about Sir Amlyn to realise how important he could or could not be. He had potential at one stage, but events have conspired to remove it. I even suspect that it may still be there, but it just needs the right 'trigger' to bring it to life again." He picked up a goblet and took a small sip. "And in any case, if the Raven and Amlyn are from the same shire, then maybe it was not a wasted effort after all." He looked thoughtful for a moment, musing over where the links may lie.

"I think you underestimate the man. I will give the Raven your words. I do not think they will please her for she does not like to waste her time." Morgan stood. "Nor do I!" She took one last sip of her drink. "Be careful who you set in play Sir Nwython. You never know what piece may be your end."

"Pieces come and go all the time, my lady. If mine is removed by god's will, then another will take it's place." He smiled at her. "Farewell."

He had to be the most infuriating man she had ever met. She wanted to take her dagger and wipe the smile from her face. She knew what she would do now. She forced a smile. "Good day sir, I will have to say, the pleasure has been all yours." She left the room with her eyes flashing.

After Morgan had gone, Nwython's expression changed to a more serious tone. Something had definately occurred, there was no doubt. She would not have so abruptly arranged this meeting just to ask him about his own plans. It meant that she was as interested in Amlyn as Nwython was as interested in her. No doubt he would have to be careful how he played the game from now on...

Morgan was furious. The man had wasted her time. However, it may have given her an ally. It was time to give Amlyn something as well. It was very late when she returned to the manor. She went to her room and washed the dirt and horse away and then changed into a loose gown. Her hair she had unbraided and brushed out. She decided to leave it that way. She entered his room carrying a candle. She stood against the door wondering if it could not wait till morning.

Amlyn had slept throughout the day, waking only to eat a light meal prepared for him by the guards. He barely heard the door open, and through sleep weary eyes he saw the light from a candle in the doorway. He shifted around, and said "who is there?"

Morgan sighed and moved forward. "It is I, the raven. I have come with news not of light matter and I could not contain it till your departure."

He sat up and tried to rub some of the sleep out of his eyes. "What news do you bring?"

"Your presence was no accident in my manor. I was warned that you were coming and my men had merely to lay in wait for you." She answered sincerely. She went and sat the candle on his bedside. She looked down at him and frowned. "Otherwise, you would just be dead if my men had found you so."

Amlyn thought for a few moments. Few people had been informed of his plans to look for the Sect, and of the few that had, only one came to mind who would find this at all interesting. The answer was obvious. "I do not find that as surprising as you may think my lady," he said with a sigh.

"Do you find it surprising that you are not expected to leave here?" She asked. She sat down upon the bed beside him. She did not care about proprieties. She was not a woman of moral regard.

"I am used to being manipulated," he said with a hint of spite. "But moaning about it has never served me well in the past."

"Well, then do something about it." She snapped and then sighed. "I am sorry. It has been a long day and I have ridden far to fetch what news I could. I bring a message from Sir Nwython. He sends his regards and in truth, his disappointments that you were found. An insult to me I should think considering he warned me of your arrival." Her words held the heat of anger she still carried.

"It is his manner to use people to achieve his own goals. To be honest, without his interference, then I would probably either be dead, or I would not be here at all, and we ... well, I would never have known about you or your children." Amlyn felt a pang of embarrassment at how that could have sounded.

Morgan's eyes slowly raised to his. "Are you glad for his interference?" She asked softly.

"... Yes, I am," he replied. "And I guess it has the advantage of being the best way to get back at Nwython," he added. He suddenly felt self-conscious again, but he fought back the urge to move away and show it.

Morgan's eyes had not left his face. "I am glad he interfered to. But I will not forget he has played a game at my expense." Morgan got up suddenly and went to the door and opened it. She brought in a long bundle and laid it across his lap. She had asked her blacksmith to make repairs to his armor and weapons. All was in readiness for his departure. This was a big risk for her because she had just armed him. She sat down beside him on the bed, closing the previous distance. "Swear upon your sword that when I release you, you will not point me out to another as the Raven. If you do so, I will not allow the sect to take another farm."

"That sword was a gift from Nwython," said Amlyn sadly. "It would not be appropriate to swear on that. But..." Amlyn inhaled deeply at the consequences. "...As I swore to your father that I would protect him and his family, I will now repeat that same oath to you, and this time I will respect the words and their meaning. 'On blood and pain of death, dishonor and a life of shame, my life is yours, and yours alone.' My honor is fragile my lady, but it grows and I will not abandon it or your cause."

"I accept your oath and offer my word as a priestess that not another child of the outlands will fall prey to the sect, nor their parents." She offered sincerely. She leaned over and kissed him softly. "You offer your life, Amlyn, what if I would wish for more?"

"What more could you take apart from my soul?" he murmured.

Morgan paused, her lips a fraction from his own. "If you have to ask, you probably could not give it." Her eyes searched his.

"... You are more beautiful than any woman I have ever seen..." whispered Amlyn, " ... but you have a pain that, for some reason hurts me grievously. I would give you whatever you wished for..." And while it agonized him so much to say so, the whispering voices of those ancestors long dead in his mind struck a chord that he could not refuse. He sighed. "But not like this. I would find what makes you incomplete first. And then, if I should succeed, would I try and court thee." He smiled grimly. "I am sorry."

Morgan moved back slowly, stunned. No man so close to her and so intimate a situation had ever refused her. Her eyes widened in confusion and disbelief. Finally, she forced a smiled to her lips that she did not feel. "Very well then, good night sir. The rest of your things await you outside your door. A horse will be ready when you have broken your fast." She stood up, hard pressed to conceal her confusion and regret.

Despite her smile, Amlyn realised that it was a mask. He got quickly to his feet. "Morgan... please. Perhaps after I leave you may see the meaning behind the words. But could I... have something of yours. Something I could keep close to me, to remind me of why I am doing these things?"

Morgan looked at him in surprise. No one had ever asked a favor of her before. She bit her lip as she thought of what she could give him. She finally reached up and took from around her neck a fine gold chain and carefully pulled a locket out from under her dress. She handed it to him. "It has a painting of the twins when they were babes. They probably do not look like that anymore, but .. it will remind you of your task."

Amlyn took the chain gently from her fingers, and looked at the painting. Then he closed it up with the thumb on his hand and clenched it gently in his fist. "Thank you," he said. "I will guard it as I would my own life."

Morgan had never been left feeling as she felt in that moment. She was not sure she liked it."Good hunting, Amlyn." She managed to choke out and then fled.

Saddened by Morgan's departure and the reasons behind it, Amlyn slipped the chain over his neck and felt the warmth it still held from Morgan's flesh. It was then that he decided to begin the lengthy task of preparing to depart, for he was well rested and loathe to stay any longer. There was enough of the moon out to ride, and he needed to think about what lay ahead. But the only things that seemed to come to his mind were jade green eyes and long, strawspun blonde hair....

Iorwerth was in the stables, with his beloved horses. He was a man who still did not talk easy. Yet he was concerned for all his children now. He was not pleased that Hawk had ridden out with only a few guards and knights. He shouldn't be doing that as King, yet he also knew that the lad needed it. Needed a way to blow off steam. He carefully stroked the back of his mare's neck. The only thing he could hope for was that both his children returned safely.

"My Lord? Lord Iorwerth? May I speak with you sir?"

Feirha had come directly from the guards' briefing. He had explained as much of the situation as they needed to know to discharge their duty, but no more. There would be two guards watching the princess at all times, with a third on stand by to replace either guard - he had also said that any unusual visitors must be reported directly to him before being allowed admittance into the princess' presence. Feirha himself had taken a room very close to Rowena's suites and garden. He had then dispatched a runner to arrange a meeting with Sir Gwilym and Sir Gwynne. Both had returned the princess back to the castle after the most recent of her infamous escape attempts. There was also the mysterious woman visitor that had upset Rowena - according to the guard on duty that day - to investigate. But now he had to explain the situation to Rowena's father.

"My Lord Iorwerth? Are you there sir?"

"Yes, I am in here. Sir Fierha, what can I do for you?" He left his horses to walk towards the knight.

"My apologies milord," stated Feirha, "I do not wish to disturb you, but I have information that I think you should be aware of."

"What is it?" Iorwerth asked. He felt a little trepidation that his son would be in danger, but tried not to show it.

Feirha related the progress of his investigation to Lord Iorwerth, piecing together the admittedly thin evidence. "And so I conclude my lord, that there is a very great chance that this Sect believe Princess Rowena to be the child-seer that they seek. I do not believe that she is, in actuality, a seer, though perhaps she has developed some sensitivity to certain other senses as is common in those who lose one or more of their senses - particularly sight - and this might serve as enough 'proof' to fulfil the prophesy. Perhaps also the Lady Audrey had noticed this sensitivity and was killed to keep the 'secret'. There is much speculation and circumstantial evidence I know, and while there is a chance that this is a false alarm, I would rather be accused of being over-cautious than unprepared."

The general thought for a long time. He was not as surprised as one might expect. His own grandmother had been a seer, people told him. And in his wives Saxon family, there had been gifted people. But because neither he nor Isa had any abilities, he had hoped his children would be safe to. And now this.

"Thank you for telling me, sir knight. We have to protect our daughter even closer, can I leave you in charge of that?" He asked. As soon as the arch druid returned he would have to have a long conversation with the man. Unbeknown to either man, Feirha was thinking much the same thing.

"Aye Sir, Lord Alterian has already charged me with that duty. I have increased the princess' guards and given them special instruction not to admit anyone not of the royal household without seeking my advice first. My main concern though, is your daughter's spirited nature. I believe she has a habit of slipping her guard and leaving the castle. Normally such initiative and bravery would be something to admire, but under these circumstances one can only worry. I was wondering if perhaps you might be able to talk to Rowena? Persuade her to remain in the castle, or at least not leave unescorted, though without revealing too much of her danger?" Feirha's voice belied his own doubt that anyone could achieve such a boon. If Rowena was even half as headstrong as Hawk then they were lost. And she was, by all accounts, even more so.

"I will talk to my daughter. And I hope I will get through to her. Unfortunately my children are all as stubborn as I am." He smiled slightly.

Feirha returned the old general's smile and shook his hand before taking his leave.

Arianna sat upon her horse with pride as she entered the city of Alban. She had worked hard her whole life to ideal of becoming a knight. Sure she had a score to settle and the path of the knight made it possible for her to accomplish it, but she truly did wish to hold to the honor of knighthood.

As she road through the city, her heart began to beat faster. She never thought she would come so close to ending her quest of destroying her father. Oh, it would be done honorably, but she would kill her father. That was a guarantee. She spent the rest of the ride up to the castle pondering how she would get close to him. After all, it was rumored that Llewellyn was very popular in the courts and well respected by the king himself.

"Excuse me, Milady, but you can nae pass this point. May I help you with something," The guard asked?

Arianna had not even paid attention and was now at the entrance to the castle and staring at the watchmen at the front gate. "Aye, guardsman, I am here to seek audience with the king," She reached in and pulled out her petition from Bromlin ap Denovin, a retired yet well respected man of the courts himself.

The guardsman took the note and yelled for a page. A young boy around the age of thirteen came forth and took the note from the guard who exchanged a few words with the lad. The boy darted into the castle the moment the guardsman was finished.

"Milady, I have sent for Master Alterian. He will be a few moments I'm sure, so you can place your mare with one of the stableboys over in the stable. When you return, Master Alterian should be present to speak with you.

"Thank you kindly, guardsman," Arianna turned and headed towards the stables.

Inside the castle, Master Alterian was quietly at work in his study when he heard a rap at his door.

"Come." Alterian called. He was used to such interruptions and did not even look up.

The boy entered upon hearing Alterian's voice and presented him with the Petition.

Alterian took the letter and unrolled it. He read slowly the words that were brought before him. Petition:
King Hawk,

I am Bromlin ap Denovin a retired noble member of the Court and dear friend of our past king. I am pleased to present you with Arianna. An apprentice of mine for the past four years and instructed by a retired knight by the name of Forimir as well who also served our country for more than ten years under your uncle's rule.

I seek petition for Knighthood for Arianna. I believe you will find her a valuable asset to your rule. She has been trained in every aspect of knighthood and there is nothing left which Forimir or I can teach her. I believe she is of the caliber which the knights of Abertawe hold true, for she is honorable and true to her heart and country.

I pray you find her as valuable to country as I do,

Your Humble Countryman,
Bromlin ap Denovin

Alterian sighed. So many petitions and requests for position. But the name was well known and could not be turned away. He, himself, did not like the idea of a woman knight but two had risen to that title in the kingdom and he paid them the respect due.

"Bring the lass here and then send for Sir Gwynne." Alterian ordered. He would assess the lass. He only had two knights in court and Feirha was busy. He would have Sir Gwynne test the girl's knowledge base and if it were lacking, have her study with him.

Arianna had finished settling her horse in the stable and was making her way back to the guardsman when the page came running out, "Milady, Master Alterian will see you now if you will but follow me." The boy turned and walked into the castle.

Arianna stayed behind the boy through the winding corridors until he came to a stop at a door and knocked. "Master Alterian, Dame Arianna is here as you requested." The boy then bowed and ran to find Sir Gwynne Arianna entered the room and curtsied, "Good day, Milord." The curtsy was proper but did not look right coming from this woman. She wore the clothes of a soldier but still showed the curves of a woman though she stood a head taller than the average woman and held decent muscle tone. She also had a long dagger strapped to her right leg and a quiver strung across her back. "Tis a pleasure to meet you."

"Aye well that may not be so for long. I understand you wish to be a knight. So I have sent for one of the King's knights. He will first test you in matters of the mind and then if you pass, matters of the sword and when that is complete. I will test your loyalty and heart." His words were firm and his stance very militant.

Arianna was taken back a bit from the sternness of this man, but admittedly liked this attitude. Men who were firm were typically forward with their opinions instead of 'holding back' because she was a woman. It reminded her of Forimir, one of her mentors.

"Then I look forward to meeting this knight, Master Alterian. I have studied hard for this day and truly aim to please." Arianna held a tight smile at the thought of this challenge.

Gwynne was training a few of the soldiers, he had not yet found a squire and was looking for one now amongst these young soldiers, all three were just plain infantry. He gave them all spears and kept his broad sword, "Okay laddies, come at me one at a time, the one who deflects my attack the best will be my squire. Look lively," Gwynne encouraged them all.

Gwynne set up for the first attack, when he heard another boy's voice yell out his name, "Sir Gwynne, Sir Gwynne," came the lad's shout. Gwynne turned to face the shout's direction. "Aye?" he asked.

"Sir Gwynne," the boy bowed to Gwynne, "Master Alterian has sent me to fetch you milord, he wishes you to meet him. I am to show you the way," the boy said, winded and breathing heavily as he spoke.

"Fine lad, one moment," Gwynne turned to the three prospective squires, "Sorry laddies, duty requires me elsewhere, stay around the training grounds where I can find you and I'll return to test you." Gwynne smiled and sent them on their way and turned back to the boy, "Okay lad, show me to Lord Alterian," Gwynne said.

The boy walked briskly in front of Gwynne and led him to the Lord Alterian. Gwynne bowed with respect to the man, "You sent for me milord?" Gwynne asked. Gwynne still had on his complete chainmail tunic and hood, he wore the knightly colors of Abertawe on his cloth overtunic, and his trusty broadsword in its sheath and strapped around his waist. His hair was bound and could not be seen, his face was regal and handsome and he carried himself like a nobleman.

"Aye, may I introduce Dame Arianna. She wishes to be made a knight. I wish you to test her in matters of court knowledge and island history as well as in arms. Report to me your opinions as soon as you have completed her tasks." Lord Alterian looked tired for his voice more gruff then usual.

Gwynne bowed to the young lady, as any chivalric gentleman would, and smiled kindly to the lass, "It is a pleasure to meet you milady, I hope that the rigors of my testing will be to your liking," he nodded his head in a gesture of acknowledgement and greeting and turned to Lord Alterian, "Milord, are there any specific parameters to the test?" Gwynne asked.

"Other then what I have named, no. I trust your judgment in this matter. I know you would never accept to your peerage one of lower qualifications." He said. "I will leave you both to it." His tone one of dismissal.

"Indeed milord, no one will join our ranks unless they have sufficient expertise and training, a mind for knowledge, and a heart for wisdom. I will test the lass to the utmost and see if she is worthy," Gwynne nodded quickly to the Lord and turned to the woman, "Milady I mean no disrespect, but the qualifications to become a Knight of this shire is high indeed. I will not hold back under any of the tests, nor will the tests take into account your gender," Gwynne smiled, for the lass was indeed very pretty. "Come lass, follow me to the Caer library."

Arianna nodded her head, "Sir Gwynne, if you were to treat me as a 'woman' and Not test me to the best of your ability, I would be severely disappointed." Arianna smiled as an innocent woman might, "please, lead on sir knight." Arianna turned towards Alterian, "I thank you, Milord, for this opportunity," then curtsied before the two left for the library.

"Blast it to Hell!!" Paluc said, throwing his wet gloves against the opposite wall. "We've been looking nigh on a fortnight and still nothing! Christ it's almost solstice!"

"Did you take the outlander with you on this last patrol?" Llewyn asked from his bed.

"Aye, and the giant and his dogs... but it's all for naught. There's been no trace of the Donn anywhere." Paluc sat, clearly exhausted from the journey. He ran a hand back through his wet black hair. "Bloody weather hasn't helped the men's spirits none either."

It had rained almost every day since they arrived in Ailinne, and it wasn't helping morale. The quarters they had secured were comfortable enough, but the interminable damp had been slowly rubbing the guardsmen's nerves raw. While they had been initially welcomed as saviors into the town, fights with some of the locals and the near destruction of one drinking establishment had recently soured relations with the townspeople. Both Llewyn and Paluc knew that unless there were at least some small victories against the Donn, they would be forced to beat an ignoble retreat to Alban.

In hopes of changing the subject, Paluc nodded to Llewyn's bandage limb. "How's the leg?"

Llewyn looked up distractedly. "Oh. Healing well. The local leech and the giant said that as long as the bone didn't break the skin there was a good chance it wouldn't rot, and it seems they were right." He gently shifted the braced leg and grimaced a little. "Should be able to walk on it soon."

"Not too soon by my reckonin'... But I wish you was able to get out. It's been tough controllin' the men." Paluc had tried to keep some semblance of order, but the men were an unruly bunch to begin with. The enforced idleness was just making matters worse.

Llewyn went back to brooding. "Where is that outlander? I want a word with him," Llewyn finally asked.

"Dunno sir. Saw him and the giant getting ready to ride again a little while back... crazy bastards. I heard him mumbling something about being 'too obvious.' I suppose they're off, but I'll see if I can find 'em." With that Paluc got up, retrieved his gloves and went out to look for the outlander. -----------

The morning had been rain filled, but had eased and finally ceased after they had left the town. Pwyll and Niall rode side by side in the wan afternoon light.

"I hope I'm not leading you on a fool's errand Niall," Pwyll said as the pair rode south from Ailinne.

"Nae, little friend. It cannot be a fool's mission to save the lives of innocent people. My goddess' concerns lie on the forests and the animals, but she is still of good. Though I have never heard of the Dunn, nothing good can come from what you have told me." Niall's face was stern and patient.

He kept alert in hopes of a sign. His thoughts constantly drifted to dark ideas of the farmers and their families who had disappeared, and the torture they were experiencing. Niall thought of all the wrong things done to him in his life and took this mission personally as a form of redemption.

Pwyll had noticed the change in the giant when all had been explained to him. Niall had placed a rage into this task and it was obvious he was going to let nothing stand in his way. Yet, Pwyll could also sense a deep pain within the giant. A scar from this pain seemed to only now become evident as the giant had kept it well hidden.

----------

Both were silent for some time afterward as they rode through the gradually thickening woodland. They followed no road or trail, but slowly worked their way south in a searching pattern throughout the afternoon and even into early evening.

As the gloom of night began to gather around them both men agreed to call a halt to the day. The search had been uneventful. Hampered by intermittent showers that wiped out tracks and ruined scents for the dogs, they had found no sign of any human activity. As the day drew to a close, the only bit of good news for the two mud splattered travelers was that the sky had finally cleared near dusk and they would be assured of a cold but dry sleep.

They agreed to make a silent camp. With no fire, they sat under the moonlight eating jerk and bread. It was during their quiet supper that Koda came up to Niall and began pulling on the end of Niall's pants. "OK, Ok, you can have some," and Niall threw her a piece of jerk. Koda ignored it and began to pull his pants again. "Knock it off, girl. What's your prob ..."

"Sssh!" Pwyll said in a low whisper as he pointed to the other dog. Kain, silhouetted in the pale moonlight, stood at full attention staring away from the camp. "Listen..."

In the distance, somewhere to the west of their position, the sounds of horses traveling quickly could just be heard. When it became clear that the sounds were drawing nearer, Pwyll silently motioned to Niall to keep the dogs quiet and drew his short sword. Niall gave a short low whistle, and lifted his own double bladed axe from its resting-place. Both crouched silently and waited.

The hoofbeats grew gradually in intensity, before abruptly beginning to fade. From the sound it was clear that they passed to the south of the two waiting figures. Niall estimated that there were at least four or five horses in the group, although the hoofbeats had a strangely muffled character. As they passed Pwyll motioned for Niall to wait, and then slipped silently into the bushes.

He returned after a minute or two with his sword sheathed. Moving with purpose towards his pony he spoke in a quiet voice, "There's a trail about two hundred paces to the south. The tracks are indistinct, like the hooves were covered with cloth, but it was clear they had passed." He held up a small tuft of wool. "Probably from a horse blanket. Mount up, but leave the armor behind. We need to travel quickly and quietly." Nodding towards the dogs he said, "You'll keep them silent?"

Niall grunted in the affirmative as he tossed aside his chain hauberk and mounted his horse. As Pwyll guided his pony quietly into the bushes, Niall followed on his great horse. The giant gave a series of low whistles, and the dogs moved to pad quietly at the horse's side.

------------

The trail was not difficult to follow now that Pwyll knew that the hooves were covered. As he stopped periodically in the moonlight to check the path, he realized why they had found no tracks during their searches: the shallow hoof prints he followed looked as if they were days old rather than fresh, and it was clear that after the first rain they would disappear completely.

The pair silently followed the narrow path eastward for some time before it joined the old road they had taken across the River Foyle. Though the hoof prints were now only occasionally visible between the black stones of the road, the trail was still easy for Pwyll and the dogs to pick out. A quarter league along the road the trail abruptly veered off into a thick bank of dead trees and bushes.

Niall and Pwyll were just about to push their horses into the brush, when in the distance they heard a muffled cough. Both froze and strained their ears. After perhaps a hundred heartbeats it came again. This time followed by the indistinct sound of voices. Almost as one the two trackers dismounted and silently led their horses back up the road, securing them well back and out of sight of any late night travelers. Creeping quietly back, they slipped into the undergrowth and continued towards the muffled sounds of conversation.

They didn't have far to travel. The dead bushes and trees that had been placed like a gate across a well-maintained pathway that led down a steep embankment. Moving parallel to the path and skirting a small guardhouse, the two searchers eventually crested a rise and found themselves looking down into a small well-hidden glen. The glen was approximately horseshoe shaped with its only entrance at the open end of the shoe. Nearby were two fair sized huts and a small stable. At the closed end of the shoe was a series of openings cut into a rocky embankment. However, the most prominent feature of the little valley was a circular array of basalt monoliths surrounding a flat stone dais set in the glen's center.

Both Pwyll and Niall grimaced at the sight. If they had any doubts that they had found the Donn and the missing farmers, then their first view of the glen dispelled them at once. For even by moonlight it was possible to discern a series of tall sharpened stakes interspersed amongst the stones, each supporting a headless corpse hung by its feet. Closer inspection revealed that the missing heads appeared to have been stuffed into small crevasses surrounding the dais. At the distance they were at it was impossible to tell if any of the bodies were fresh, but it was at least clear that the buildings were occupied. As Niall and Pwyll watched, several men and women walked through the doors of the buildings. Some went to a nearby outhouse, while others were obviously the change of guards.

In all the two watched for an hour until the moon began to creep towards the horizon. "I make about five and ten between the two buildings, with perhaps three in the guard house," Pwyll said in a quiet whisper. "What do you think?"

"Aye, plus one there," Niall pointed to a small hilled area with a perimeter watchman standing on top. Niall made sure Pwyll's eyes followed his hand and pointed to a second watchman, "and there. Think we should go back and get help?"

"Aye. We need to even it up a bit... If it were just the two of us, we'd have an unfair advantage." Pwyll's toothy smile was just visible under the waning moon.

The little man and the giant turned and slipped silently back into the woods. Backtracking past the guardhouse and along side the embankment trail. An hour later, after hiding their tracks, they were back at the campsite gathering their gear which was left behind.

"It may take us a while to gather up the soldiers," Niall's face twisted into a guilty expression, "and you know that new leader o' theirs is gonna be upset we just took off ... you know, what's his name."

"Ah! Bugger Llewyn and his gamy leg," Pwyll snorted as he remounted his pony. "If I remember aright he owes you his life... and finding the Dunn should be enough of a feather in his cap to set things right."

----------

Paluc returned before nightfall. He had been searching for four hours with no sign of the outlander or giant, and he knew Llewyn would not be pleased. Paluc stood outside Llewyn's door, composed himself, and knocked.

"Enter," Llewyn said from his bed. Paluc opened the door and entered. Once inside, he closed the door and snapped to attention. "Sir, the men have searched high and low and can find no trace of the outlander or the giant. What is your next order, Sir?"

Llewyn was writing the latest entries in his journal. Hearing Paluc's words, Llewyn paused and closed his eyes for a moment. He then looked up at Paluc as he set his pen next to his ink, "Prepare the men, we leave for Alban at first light. Our report will stay there was no sign of the Donn. I tire of this bed and we have overstayed our welcome in this town." Llewyn grabbed his pen, dipped it in the ink, and began writing again.

Paluc smiled at the thought of returning home. This trip had seemed to be a waste. Men were lost with out one once of battle. They would be ridiculed by the other soldiers back in Alban. Paluc assumed Llewyn's return to writing and his silence meant he was dismissed. Paluc saluted and headed out the door to inform the men.

--------

The two men made their way back to town arriving just at the break of dawn and found the company all formed up as if they were about to leave. Several of the men cast sour looks at the giant and little outlander as they road into the square.

Pwyll took no notice and spurred his tired pony up to Llewyn's side. "Off to Alban are we then?" he offered in a conversational tone.

He was met with a cold look from the injured guardsman. "Aye, and no thanks to you," Llewyn replied frostily.

Pwyll raised an eyebrow, and wondered for a moment if he should even tell Llewyn about the evening's discovery. Pwyll leaned towards the guardsmen and spoke in a low whisper. "Listen you overstuffed sack of shit... We found 'em."

The leader of the guards straightened in his saddle at Pwyll's words, unsure whether to challenge the man or congratulate him. His anger gradually abated, but he was still suspicious. "Where?" he asked quietly.

"To the south. Perhaps half a day's ride. Near the Llwybr chan 'r farw, some distance to the east of where we left it." Pwyll's tone had altered almost instantly. It was all business now, and his voice reflected the fact. "Two score men in a closed glen... All armed."

"You're sure it's them?" Llewyn asked as he motioned to Paluc.

"Oh, aye," Pwyll responded sarcastically. "but I suppose you could ask the headless corpses for their thoughts on the matter."

Llewyn seemed satisfied by the response. Turning to Pulac he said, "Array the men for battle, Paluc. We've found them."

"Wait," Pwyll spoke quickly before Paluc could give the command. "If the town is watched, the order might betray us. Let us ride to the west in 'defeat' and then turn south. Surprise is our biggest ally."

Llewyn saw the wisdom of this approach, and the men were not told the news.

--------

As they slowly departed the square, several townsfolk came out and jeered at the retreating men. A number of guards had to be brought back in line in order to avoid any incidents, but on the whole the departure was uneventful. When they had cleared the town by some distance, Llewyn called a halt and Paluc informed the men of the news.

At first there was disbelief, but slowly the news sank in. Spirits rose almost immediately amongst the men. As the troops set off in the direction of the glen, almost all were talking volubly about the coming fight and speculating on the prospect of a rich booty. All except one, who remained quiet and distracted as they rode south...

Gwilym and Eli rode hard. In less than a day they were in the area of the caves. Eli had dismounted and began scouting the terrain for any other signs. Gwilym dismounted, withdrew his claymore, and followed Eli. After an hour of searching the terrain, Eli turned to Gwilym with a solemn look on his face.

Gwilym saw Eli's eyes and knew there was trouble, "What is it that you see my new friend?"

"I would say that there are near fifty men in the area. Most of the tracks are fresh so I wouldn't be surprised if we are being watched. I know where this cave is located, and I have a feeling these men do to. I fear they are only waiting for the sun to set before they attack." Eli looked up at the position of the sun as he spoke.

"Then we only have a couple of hours left. We had better get to the children as quick as we can," Gwily