Politics - Chapter Seven

Jon sat back with his feet on the table watching the 10 men he had taken with him to set up Bronwen and Seth. He had already ordered them 10 rounds when his prisoner leaned over and asked. "Why am I a prisoner milord."

"I have to make those 10 men think that you are my prisoner because they do not know of the plan." Jon said with a chuckle as the druid stood up straight again. He ordered his men one more drink. Then he stood and grabbed the druid roughly. "I am going to go tie this cur up." His men cheered as Jon drug the druid out the door. In the alley he smiled at the guardsman. "You did a wonderful job. Now I will pay you your full worth."

"Thank you milord." The man said excitedly.

Jon reached into his surcoat and before the druid could see the dagger, his throat was slit and he fell down onto the ground. Jon reached down and wiped of his dagger and put it back under his surcoat. He picked up the body and tossed him into privy pit. When he walked back into the bar he waited for the men to drink a couple more rounds and then he stood. "Come on men lets go."

"Um, we are all bit wee drunk milord to ride." One of them said with a slurred voice.

"All right," Jon said with a smile. The men had started to join into conversations and tell the visiting locals about the princess denying Jon's proposal to help her. Even repeating her comment of preferring to be a whore rather then wed to one of noble blood.

Jon gathered what men COULD ride and left the inn very satisfied. He pulled himself up onto his horse and headed home. His thoughts were well occupied on the way home. He took a long route in case the King decided to send a token effort to recover his fleeing sister. He would send his men into the local brothels of Alban so the tale was truly told. He figured with in a fortnight, all the kingdom would know that a princess of the royal house had chosen harlotry over the hand of one of the kingdom's most eligible men. Soon, he would have exactly what he wanted.

"Now, you see I'm known for two things: my total lack of manners and my brutality with spies." Renny's mother told the bleeding man tied to her tent's pole. She slowly rounded the pole, playing with a little silver knife. "A spy--such as yourself--rarely lives." she gave a short bark of laughter.

The sound grated on the man's half-sawed off ears. He was feeling nothing at that moment. He vaguely saw the blood staining ever part of his outfit--such as it was--heard the sound of blood rushing, but felt nothing.

"But I'm in a rather happy mood, so I thought to myself 'Self, why not let him live if he listens to your story.' Then I remembered my rep and said instead 'Why not tell him the story and then kill him?'" the Captain went on, oblivious to the man's shallow breathing.

"Here's my story...

The Captain's Horrid Love Affair as told by the Captain

A long time ago, well okay about eighteen years ago, I lived in a small village. I was the village tart, but held some respect for my policy of not taking already married men to bed with me. Then HE came along. Looking all dashing and vulgar in his too tight pants and open necked tunic. He had all the girls swaying.

Then he came to me, late one night. I did my service by him, got paid nicely, but didn't expect much more then that. He was--is--noble blooded. Then he started paying court to me. In front of everyone! There was even talk of marriage to me...I was on cloud nine. To think I could rise to THAT station...

Then I started feeling sick in the morning and having odd cravings. The village midwife--more like a damn witch--screamed at the top of her lungs 'SHE'S WITH CHILD!' right in the middle of the square. If I wasn't for the fact I was doubled over vomiting, I would have attacked her.

That night, when HE came to my hut, he was so overjoyed. I had no idea why--it was scandal after all--but he was, so I was. He stayed with me until the babe was born--being a girl no less--and then , about two moons after she was born, he disappeared with her.

No body knew what happened to them, but because of that I was thrown into exile. I was no longer respected. For five years I searched for them, for nothing. So at the end of five years I started to really think hard. I began saving men from death and helping others escape prison. I nursed alot of these men back from health with my own two hands. All I asked for in return was their loyalty.

"And I've gotten that." the Captain finished, squating down beside the man. "And you know what happened to my daughter? I found her, four years ago. But then, you knew that didn't you? Her dear father sent you didn't he?"

"Four...searchin'...Renn..." the man gasped, his body convulsing once before becoming stiff.

"As I thought." the Captain said, shaking her head. Lifting him bodily she tossed him out of her tent. "Get rid of him! And prepare to move out!" she ordered, the men hurrying to listen. "send me Sparrow." she told the nearest guy.

"He tisn't 'ere Captain." the man said uncomfortably.

"Where is he?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"Bear went after 'im. Thought he might be seein' Renny." with that the man hastened away.

Grinding her teeth, the Captain stalked back into her tent, tossing things into her rucksack without thought. "Something must be done." she muttered. "Soon."

Morgan sent word to Sir Gwynne that she wished an accounting. She would meet him at the inn. She entered her rooms and looked around. She frowned. She moved to her drawer to fetch her medallion. Her eyes widened with disbelief. Morgan ransacked the whole room. It was gone. She let out a scream of frustration. It was time to leave. She had not meant to leave it and now it may be her undoing. She would meet with Sir Gwynne and then she would depart for the manor house.

Gwynne had received word that the Lady Morgan wished to see him. He did not hesitate, he had just finished with Arianna for the day and was about to go and get supper. What a better way to enjoy a meal than to be in the company of a most stunning young lady. It didn't take him long to ride to the inn, in fact he had his horse gallop all the way there. He strode into the tavern part of the inn and walked up to the bar, one of the serving wenches greeted him with a curtsey, knowing his place. "Milord."

"Greetings lass I am here to meet with the Lady Morgan, has she left instructions on where I should meet her?" Gwynne asked pleasantly.

"She is waiting in the parlor." The barmaid directed him. Sure enough, the Lady was pacing in front of the fire. She turned as the door opened. "Good evening, milord."

"Good evening milady, it is a pleasure to be in your presence once again," Gwynne bowed gallantly to the lady and stood and watched her pace.

"It will be the last. I have decided to return back to Llydaw. I wish to know how you have invested the funds I gave you before I leave?"

"Leaving milady? Surely not!" Gwynne replied, for she was the only friend that Gwynne had here in Abertawe. He was more concerned about her leaving then answering her question.

"A matter has come to my attention. She moved to Sir Gwynne. Her body very close to his. "However, I would not leave without telling my favorite knight goodbye." Her words were huskily spoken.

"I am honored milady, will you return soon?" Gwynne wondered, clearly effected by her body being so close to his, the heat he felt up and down his spine and in his blood was incredible. He could not hide his attraction to her.

"I may never return." She said taking a step closer, there was little distance between them.

"That makes my heart very sad milady, the thought of not seeing you again is difficult for me to bear, you have been the only friend I have kept company with since being here," Gwynne replied, lamenting this turn of events. She was so heavenly close to him. The gentleman wanted to behave himself, and the scoundrel in Gwynne wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her passionately and see if his kiss could make her stay.

Morgan placed a hand upon his cheek and kissed him tenderly. "You should have more faith in yourself." She said against his lips before laying a second kiss upon them.

It was as if she were reading his mind. He placed his arms completely around her waist and kissed her deeply, firmly, and with all the passion contained within him. Her lips were as soft as cotton and as delectable as the finest fruits, he let the kiss linger softly, tenderly and let it heat them both up like a hot burning ember.

Morgan moaned softly against his lips. "Such passion from my scholarly knight."

"Your beauty is enchanting and your companionship like no other milady. I cannot help it, I have wanted to kiss you since the first night I set my eyes upon you," he replied with a smile, his hand gently resting upon her soft, allabaster cheek.

"I seem to remember you demanding I pay for your spilt ale the first night I met you." She reminded him gently. She pressed herself closer to him. "I am so distraught, a family heirloom is missing from my rooms and yet nothing else. Why would someone steal a simple thing and yet leave my more precious items?" She clung to him trembling.

He liked her clinging to him and welcomed it, he did not let his hands leave her supple and slender waist. "I do not know milady, but if you describe it to me, I shall find it for you," he told her in a controlled whisper.

"I thought maybe you had seen something. Perhaps the child you carried from my rooms? The maid said you took an ill child from my rooms. Could she have my necklace?" Morgan asked, her eyes came up to meet his, true pain echoed there.

"It is possible milady, she was quite distraught and scared. She said something about the Raven, if I remember correctly. She is still ill, perhaps I could search for the necklace? But, how could I do that without getting caught?" Gwynne wondered. Her eyes mesmerized him, almost as if he were in her trance, like a spell had been woven upon him and he didn't want to break it. Her blue eyes seem to sparkle like the noonday sky on a hot summer, cloudless day. She enchanted him, overwhelmed him and he tried to remain calm and without making a fool of himself. Still something inside him wanted to help her.

"Who is this poor child?" Morgan whispered, kissing his neck. Her face had paled slightly when he had mentioned the raven.

"Princess Rowena, she is skeptical of you, I believe it's just the imaginings of a very vivid mind. She knew that I was attracted to you, and called me evil," he chuckled at the thought. Sure Gwynne had his faults but he had always been on the side of good.

"What would the princess be doing here?" She brought her kisses up to his ear and nuzzled it gently.

Gwynne smiled and his eyes closed at the ecstasy of her lips' touch. "She wished to find where you live is all she told me," he replied softly, moaning low from her touch.

"Perhaps I could speak with her, show her I mean no ill will." She traced kisses back to his lips.

"Perhaps milady, I have been assigned to guard her when I am not conducting the King's business elsewhere," he replied, embellishing a bit, but only because he wanted Morgan's favor.

He kissed her back, moving slowly, deliberately with every touch, every sensual slow connection between them seemd like traces of fire. he had finally known the taste of her lips and it was pure heaven to his soul.

"Could you bring her to the city?" Morgan asked, then kissed him passionately.

"Aye lass, but she can't be gone long, she will not be easy to get here, she is quite afraid of you," he told her truthfully.

"I have only met the child once?" Morgan said in confusion. "Once whilst she worked her garden."

Morgan ran her hand down his chest. "Stay with me?" She whispered. "I do not wish to be alone?" She didn't like being alone. Her thoughts kept straying to a pair of mournful eyes.

"For the night milady?" Gwynne asked in a whisper, he tried to hide his shock with a delighted smile.

"If you can? Can you bear to bring comfort to a lonely widow?" Morgan asked seductively.

"Aye most assuredly milady, indeed," Gwynne replied, her seductive ways seemed to render his mind oblivious to all else but her beauty and sensuous movements. "I am at your service," Gwynne said in reply, using his own seductive, sparkling blue eyes.

"I am no longer hungry." She whispered. "I will go to my room, you may join me directly?"

"Aye lass, how long should I wait?" Gwynne wondered, every so often his lips would meet hers in short, seductive kisses.

"A few minutes, allow me time to change." She answered. She kissed him once more and disengaged herself.

"Aye lass, I shall wait and enter from the back door. I will buy an ale and then meet you," Gwynne told her in a whisper and took her hand and kissed it in a departing nature.

Morgan slowly pulled free and left the room. She hurried to her rooms and changed into a more revealing loose shift. She poured two glasses of wine and coated the rim with the same oil she had given Sir Amelyn. It's nutty flavor would merely enhance the wine. She paced liked a caged lion. Much depended on the next few hours.

Gwynne left the parlor and returned to the bar, he orderd a goblet of ale and drank it quickly. "Just one for the road lass," he chuckled, wiping his mouth of the foam. He tipped the pretty lass who had served him many times and acted as if he was leaving the Swan Inn.

Gwynne was careful, he did not wish to tarnish the reputation of a grieving widow, but neither could he deny the pretty lass affection. He mounted his horse and pretended to slowly walk away, then in the darkness of the street he doubled back, putting his horse in a back alley and tying it to post. Talley, Gwynne's horse, would never let another ride him--- so stealing Talley was impossible. Gwynne then discretely snuck back into the tavern's inn and quietly knocked on Morgan's door. No one saw him, or heard him.

Morgan opened the door from behind it so he could slip inside. She smiled for the room was cast in the warm glow of embers. She shut the door behind him gently.

"Milady, a shift? It is a very beautiful shift," he said with a smile, admiring how it graced her figure and accentuated her wondrous curves. He did look a bit shocked however, expecting the lass to still be in her dress.

"I wasn't planning on dining." she answered with a grin. She picked up the goblets of wine and pressed one into his hand. "A drink would be appropriate though."

"Aye milady!" Gwynne replied in a subtle but sensuous smile, "and we may do whatever you wish milady, I am here for your comfort," he said, with just an air of mischief in his tone.

"I am sure that comfort is far from your mind Sir." She teased as she took a deep pull from her goblet.

Gwynne chuckled, but wasn't sure what to say. He thought for just a few moments and began to speak, "You are beautiful milady, absolutely breathtaking," he smiled and took a drink of his wine, never taking his eyes off of her.

"I know." She echoed. She held out a hand and led him to the bed. She took a drink as she sat down. "I hope you don't think me too forward?"

"Not at all lass," he spoke with a husky, determined tone, his eyes were intensely watching every move she made. He took a few sips of his wine and laid down on the bed after she had made herself comfortable. He didn't think he had ever been more attracted to a woman than to Morgan in his entire life. It showed in his eyes.

"A toast." She held up her glass. "To future partnerships." She took a slow sip of her wine. She needed him to finish the goblet.

"Aye lass! Indeed, to new partnerships!" he lifted his goblet of wine with hers and drank the purple liquid. Gwynne was having difficulty concentrating on anything but Morgan's beauty and the closeness of her body.

"Finish your wine and kiss me." She said with a mischievous, teasing tone.

"Why do I have to wait to finish the wine?" Gwynne laughed, setting his goblet down and moved forward to plant a soft, sensuous kiss upon her rosy lips.

Morgan pulled loose quickly. She could taste the oil on his lips. "I have a tradition, I never waste a goblet of wine. It is bad luck, a sign that failure is to come." She wiped her lips casually.

"Aye, okay then lass," Gwynne took the goblet in his hand again and drank it all down in one gulp, excited to kiss her and feel the passion between them once more. When he finished, he wiped his lips of the wine, set the goblet down and moved to kiss her.

Morgan placed a finger on his lips. "Tell me Sir Gwynne, do you have much ... have you been with many women?" She asked gently, rubbing his lips with her finger, to make sure the oil was gone.

"I have been with my fair share milady," Gwynne replied, not being braggadocios, but not truly humble either... somehow he only needed the few words and the look in his eyes as he gazed upon her to know that he had been with other women.

"I am glad." She whispered. She drained her goblet and leaned across and kissed him softly.

Gwynne let the kiss linger, her tasty lips like nectar. His hands hesitantly explored, waiting to see if she would let him go further. Even now Gwynne was a gentleman, an animal full of desire, but still there was a remnant of his knightly persona still emblazoned upon his character. A part of him forgot this, ecstasy was all he could see and hear now. He could feel her heart beating, his own heart raced with excitement and anticipation. It was a good five minutes that he held Morgan's lips in a deep, yearning kiss.

Morgan took pleasure in his kiss and his hands. She knew that they would still soon enough and she had not been with anyone since her husband had died. She sighed softly against his lips.

Gwynne's hand moved about her form effortlessly, his hands barely touched, but they were close enough to her body that they could tantalize. He wondered how far she would let him go. He slowly moved downward and attempted to pull the shift up so he could remove it. Wanting to see her in her true beauty and glory, just as he had dreamed many nights since meeting her.

Morgan felt the heat of his hands and the gentleness of his touch. She almost regretted tainting his wine. She felt the slight tug of the hem of her shift but did not stay him.

Gwynne slowly lifted the shift, her knee showed, then her hips and thighs and up to her abdomen, he looked to Morgan to see if she would let him remove it, almost torturing her in the process, Gwynne knew how to seduce a woman, that was clear.

Morgan did not stop him. Her eyes closed enjoying the heat of a man close to her. She was also mentally counting the time passing.

Gloriously, she allowed him to remove the shift entirely, when it got to her neck, arms and shoulders he assisted her in removing it entirely. He began to kiss her breasts, slowly, with care and tenderness and as he did so his vision began to blur, his head felt groggy and he started to sway. Heaven was so close, what was wrong with him? 'Don't stop now!' he said to himself, he desperately wanted Morgan-- he could not hide that.

Morgan picked up on the signs immediately and gently rolled him over so she was on top. "You seem overdressed, milord. Let me assist you."

"Aye," he said, laying his head back, he tried to recover his vision, his head was swimming, pounding, he looked to Morgan and only saw a beige blur. He wanted to cry out in disgust, so close to his dream and yet his body seemed unwilling to cooperate with his desire.

Gwynne laid there, his hands reaching up for Morgan's breasts, a desperation, a lust flowing through Gwynne now. He had surrendered to it, no matter how he felt.

Morgan helped him undress. She snuggled up next to him. She turned his face towards hers and gently kissed his lips. "Tell me why the princess suddenly has guards?" She asked softly, nuzzling his ear.

"She is afraid to be alone, and thinks you are going to kidnap her," Gwynne replied, dazed, his eyes glassy, he could still barely make out the outline of her body and face.

"How does she know to fear me?" She coaxed. Her hands soothing and caressing him. Her body pressed close to keep him calm and at ease.

"She sees visions," he said, lifting his head trying to find her lips to kiss again.

Morgan kissed him. "How do you know this?" She asked after the kiss.

"She told me," Gwynne replied, willingly doing what she asked of him. It was as if his mind was asleep and his body and tongue could not resist the lady's questions. He was accepting with her in all ways, and putting the young princess in danger without knowing it.

"How many men guard her?" Morgan asked. She kissed his neck and allowed her hands to roam freely.

"Five I believe," he replied, enjoying the feel of her lips against his skin. They were so soft, so luscious, inviting him to partake of all her pleasures. If only he would wake up from this haze.

Morgan silently swore. She had to get the Princess out of the castle. "I bet a powerful knight like you could protect her all by herself. You should bring her to the city and we could show her that I am not going to hurt her." Morgan coaxed.

"I would need the King's permission," Gwynne replied, innocent and naive of the woman's true intent, he was oblivious that he couldn't decipher anything or anyone. He was being easily coerced and powerless to resist in anyway.

"I see. Could you do it for me? I want to show the girl I am not some evil thing from her nightmares." She coaxed again.

"Aye, I will do all you bid," he replied, completely under the spell of whatever kind of potion Morgan had put into his wine.

"Good.. good.. You must not tell anyone." She coaxed. "It must be our secret as is our tryst." She whispered gently.

"Aye lass, you are the bright flame of my soul, our rendezvous will not be known by anyone." Gwynne replied. He was catually getting used to the haziness, the blurred vision. He could feel her touch and her lips when she kissed him. That was beauty and ecstasy itself. "Let us make love lass?" Gwynne asked, still completely under the effects of the potions she had drugged him with. But, his ultimate goal was still very prevalent in his mind.

Morgan was at a crossroads. Her thoughts were not here. But, a warm body pressed beside her brought comfort that she craved. She leaned down intent on answering his request when Morgan did something uncharacteristic, she felt a pang of conscious. "Sleep Gwynne." She ordered. "Sleep and dream of us." She whispered in his ear."

Gwynne closed his eyes as she bid him, the effects of the witches potion clearly having it's ultimate effect. He had no choice but to obey. And he began to sleep peacefully at her side.

Morgan cuddled up next to him and slept for a short while. When she felt him begin to stir. She got up from the bed and put on a dressing gown. When he awakened, she was brushing her hair by the fire.

Gwynne leaned up, realizing he had no clothes on. "Milady?" he asked after her. He took one of the pillows and covered himself. "I don't remember anything?" Gwynne replied, he didn't hide the disappointment, for he wanted to be with her.

"A lady does not like to hear that." She turned and looked at him puzzled. "I assure you, I remember quite a bit." She looked him over intimately.

"My sincerest apologies milady, I did not feel well, please accept my sincerest apologies? I wanted nothing more than to remember our love making. It has been all I could think about since I first laid eyes on you. Come to me lass, let us make memories neither of us could ever forget?" he asked, truly enchanted by Morgan in every way, she was irresistible as she brushed her long blonde tresses by the fire. A seductive action if Gwynne ever saw one.

"I have to leave soon, milord. And you need to do so as well." She said with a smile. "If you do not remember one of the most glorious nights of my life then I am not about to offer you a repeat."

Gwynne laughed at Morgan, a playful, mischievous laugh. "Why milady, I was only toying with you," Gwynne lied. "Indeed, how could I forget such a glorious night? A most enchanting and wondrous dream," he said. "Where can we meet again lass? For not only do I remember, I will sell my soul for a repeat of such pleasures again," he told her, his smile never wavered.

"Well, I would like to do some shopping before I leave. If you could bring the princess, we could go on a picnic. If it goes well, I will stay another night to share such joys again." She answered softly.

"Aye," he replied. "A picnic sounds wonderful lass, somewhere secluded, romantic perhaps?" he smiled, winking at her playfully. "I would like to know where you're going though lass? Please?" Gwynne asked, quite insistent.

"I have to check on property I am buying. I have to be a good distance before the cock crows." She answered. "I will return tomorrow. We can have our picnic with the princess then?"

"How far away is it?" Gwynne asked. "And can we have our picnic after I return the princess to the castle?" Gwynne asked, he wasn't hiding his intentions.

"No love, we picnic WITH the princess and then you and I can meet after you return her." She answered gently.

"As you wish," he conceded softly, not wishing to anger her. As long as he would get time alone with her again, he would be happy. Gwynne looked around for his clothes, and carefully began dressing himself, watching her as he did.

"You are quite amazing milord. I look forward to tomorrow." She said with a husky tone.

"Not as much as I lass, never as much as I," Gwynne was dressed now and he walked over to her, cupping her breasts and gently bending down to kiss her neck. "A most glorious night milady, I shall never forget just the chance to touch your soft skin, more than that was sheer heaven," he whispered romantically to her hear. He kissed her again and started for the door. "I will send word about the princess and our plans," he said quickly before opening the door.

"I look forward to assuaging her fears and your desires." She promised from her chair.

"Indeed milady," Gwynne replied, gallantly bowing before her, looking up with his eyes playfully, winking and then turned for the door. He was careful to that no one was in the hallway and snuck out the back as he had snuck in the night before. His nimble grace allowed him to be absolutely quiet, moving like a dear in the night forest.

Morgan sighed after he left. It had been too smooth, too easy. She did not feel the comfort she normally would have felt. She thought instead of things that could go wrong. But if Amlyn failed, she needed the princess.

Location: Castle in Alban

Returning to his new room the page Feirha had previously dispatched with messages was waiting patiently for him.

"Milord," the boy greeted, bowing his head for the knight's leave to speak further.

"Go on lad," Feirha told him.

"Milord. I regret to inform you that Sir Gwilym has left Abertawe on an undisclosed quest," the page began. Feirha nodded his acknowledgement allowing the boy to continue. "However, Sir Gwynne has accepted your request, but informs you that he had been called away briefly to speak with Lord Alterian. He suggests that you seek him out, and if duty permits, he will speak with you there." The page paused for a moment. "Perhaps I could find him for you sir?"

Feirha smiled. "An excellent idea son, thank you," he told the page. "What is your name lad?" Feirha saw possible squire material in the youth - something he had not thought about since Huw had left, during the war, on a personal quest of his own.

"Arvel milord," the page replied.

"Very well, Arvel, I would be very pleased if you could find Sir Gwynne for me."

---o---

[Forty minutes later - The Training Yard]

Arvel had pointed out the knight and Feirha watched him taking the young applicant - unusually a woman - though her paces. The knight was very striking in appearance with long fair hair flowing in harmony with his graceful movement. He carried a broadword, one of great caliber, the iron used was strong and Gwynne used it with a nimbleness that covered his disadvantage with strength. What Gwynne lacked in strength, he made up for with nimble quickness and graceful fighting style that put enemies at ease, as it did with the young lass who was being tested. "It is enough for today lass, we will continue your tests for tomorrow. Rest lass, you will need it for tomorrow, we have only just begun."

Gwynne saw the boy who had spoken with him earlier, and a knight of the realm standing beside him. Gwynne put two and two together and believed the knight to be Feirha.

He sheathed his broadsword, put on his cloak and walked to the knight and boy. "Greetings boy," Gwynne started out, he turned to the elder Knight, "Feirha I presume?" Gwynne asked.

"You presume correctly my lord Hawley," the priest-knight replied. "I am grateful that you agreed to speak with me considering you are clearly very busy." Feirha nodded in the direction of the departing knight applicant.

"I have no knowledge of what you need to speak with me about Sir Feirha, however if I can help you in anyway, then I shall," he replied, Gwynne's brusque, standoff-ish demeanor quite evident in his mannerisms and voice.

Feirha spoke smoothly, ignoring the odd tone in his comrade's voice. "Oh but sir, I think you do have such knowledge. I am interested to hear of your recent meetings with the Princess Rowena - one outside the castle, one in her rooms." The older knight paused in brief thought before adding, "The lords Alterian and Iorwerth have both charged me with the protection of the princess from a possible, and dangerous, threat; I wondered if her little adventure had any significance to by duty."

"The little lass simply doesn't trust the Lady Morgan. She wanted to know where Lady Morgan resided. Nothing more. She just dreams the fantasies of a little girl, playing make believe. She is quite the odd little girl, but pleasant nevertheless. In her room, we spoke of fables, of my interest in Lady Morgan, which was quite ludicrous, the little princess confuses attraction with love," Gwynne smiled, but continued, "that is all Sir Feirha. She is quite pleasant and I plan to read fables to her, she seems to like stories. I am a teacher as well as a Knight, and so find the opportunity to teach the lass of other's cultures and their myths to be quite an excellent chance to broaden the young lasses horizons. I assure you nothing more has been said. She's just a sweet little girl with a large imagination, typical at that age really," Gwynne replied, he placed his hand on his sword handle and rested the other hand on his wrist, his eyes staring back at Feirha to show the man he s! poke the truth.

Feirha smiled back at the rather intense knight. "Aye my friend, the Princess is all those things from what I hear - and more - yet I regret I have not had the pleasure to meet her on anything but formal occasions. I plan to seek an audience with her majesty as soon as possible. However, in the meantime, tell me a little about this Lady Morgan? Why was our princess so eager to find the woman?" Feirha had heard the name before; one of the guards had mentioned that the princess had seemed a little unnerved following a Lady Morgan's visit. But he did not wish to let on that the name was not completely unknown to him.

"Please do not tell the little princess I told you this, but Rowena believes that Morgan is someone called the Raven, and that she will be swept away by her, never to return.

"Does she indeed!" thought Feirha, suddenly feeling chilled, "What if the girl really is clairvoyant!"

"She does wish to be a druid, but whether she is clairvoyant or not I could not say. Morgan however is a delightful, most stunning woman. She has actually helped me on one occasion. All that I know of her is that she is a widow, the widow of a distant King I believe. She is here to try and find a peaceful estate and to live out her days there. She also conducts a fair amount of business in the shire. That is all I know, however I am able to be permitted into her company at any time. We have dined together on two previous occasions," Gwynne replied, always honest. Gwynne had nothing to hide, for he believed Morgan to be a wonderful woman, particularly 10,000 wonderfuls.

Feirha noted eagerly that here was a possible way to get to meet this Morgan woman. He would speak with the Princess to confirm Gwynne's story, but he would want this avenue of opportunity left well and truly open. "A widowed queen you say," he said, carefully measuring his tone - he hated being less than honest, but there were very important matters at stake, "I think I should like to meet this Lady Morgan, at least pay my respects to a visiting dignitary - it is the correct thing to do after all - though she seems a most intriguing woman." Feirha wondered if he could trust Arvel to run a few enquiries about this 'ex-queen'...

Gwynne was rather reserved at Feirha's question and manner, but spoke evenly, "I would be happy to make introductions if you so wish?" Gwynne volunteered.

Feirha bowed graciously. "I would be honoured. First however, I should like to speak with our Princess." Feirha bowed again, and offered his hand to the knight. "My thanks sir."

"You're most welcome, just send for me when you're ready to meet with Lady Morgan and I will make arrangements for a meeting. Good day Sir Feirha," Gwynne nodded and watched as the man walked away. Gwynne then headed for his bedchambers to spend the rest of the evening reading.

Feirha bowed formally to the juvenile princess. "Thank you for speaking with me your majesty," he told her in the same tone and expression that he would address an adult royal, out of both respect and a little flattery.

Rowena looked up from her dolls and giggled. "I am not a majesty. I am just Rowena. You are Hawk's dearest friend. You should know that?" However, it was clear he had caught her attention.

Feirha smiled and sat down slowly on crossed legs, on the floor near the princess, though still keeping a respectful distance from the girl. "Your brother, the king. Hawk. is very dear to me as well Rowena, and it lifts my heart to hear I am so close to his. It is a hope of mine that one day, in time, I will win the friendship of all your family."

Rowena smiled. "My family is very accepting so that is not so hard."

"I hear you plan to study with the Druids?" Feirha asked. He already knew the answer but it felt like a good open question to get things started. Before she answered he smiled and added, "did you know I am a qualified priest of the One God?" He thought he'd gained a feel for the princess from everything everyone had told him about her, and he judged she would only be interested in their differences, rather than offended as many adults would be. "If only we could keep the open-minded innocence of our childhood," he pondered sadly.

"What is a qual.. qualified priest?" Rowena asked with interest. "Does that mean you had to pass some kind of ritual or test?" She cocked her head sideways watching him closely.

Feirha smiled and nodded, "yes, very good, it means a little of both really. To become qualified to teach the ways of the One God - it means you have been named officially good enough to be a priest by the church; it is considered important to have this permission - it is mostly only a matter of time. You will need to have studied for so many years before the teachers - usually other priests - judge you have had enough training they will test you. They have to be sure you know the scriptures and how to interpret them, as well as knowing all of the various rituals involved in worship and blessings. I imagine druidic training would take much the same form."

Rowena nodded. "That does not seem so different." She admitted. "What did you wish to speak of?" She asked. It seemed odd that a knight would seek an audience with her. Sir Gwynne had been different because he had just come to see how she was.

Feirha paused before he answered. How did one approach the subject? He passed his eyes over the young girl's dolls arranged across the floor. How long before these wood and cloth toys were replaced by flesh and blood subjects he thought. It was down to him to make sure that the princess had the opportunity to rule people in later life as she ruled these dolls in play.

"Tell me about Lady Morgan, if you would," Feirha said gently, "I believe she visited you yesterday?"

"Actually, I went to visit her, but she was not there." Morgan answered evasively. She picked up a doll and clutched it to her chest.

Feirha smiled kindly at Rowena. He had to be careful now. "You wanted to visit her because you think she is a bad person?" he prompted gently, "and you wanted to ask her about it? That was very brave of you little princess. Hawk would be very proud of you." Actually, Hawk would probably have ordered the woman arrested, or worse, out of worry, fear and anger - he might have been proud if he was able to think it through calmly and objectively but they were luxuries Hawk did not enjoy in this time of grief. Feirha could not explain it, even to himself, but he felt that such direct action was not the right way to deal with this Lady Morgan, at least not yet.

"I wasn't very brave. I .. " Rowena was not going to tell him what she saw. "She wasn't there. She went to see a knight." Rowena frowned. "Why does everyone like her so much?"

"I have been wondering the same thing Rowena," Feirha replied quietly, "I have made arrangements to go and meet this Lady Morgan, I have a feeling that she is not all she appears to be. The guard said you talked for a little while would you tell me what she said to you? It may help to trick her, show people what she is really like." He was trying to manipulate the young princess, but only a little. In his heart Feirha believed Rowena; believed that Morgan was playing some devious game, perhaps was even the Raven. It was, however, morally and ethically wrong to pre-judge the woman; he needed to gather as much information - evidence - as he could.

"We talked about gardening." Rowena began trying to remember what they had actually discussed. "We talked about being a druid. We talked about me training with the high druid. She acted very nice."

"I don't doubt it princess," Feirha answered, almost to himself, "but you saw her how she really is?"

"Death follows her." Rowena answered blankly, her eyes seemed to be unfocused as if seeing something beyond him. "She knows you. That is why you have not met her."

That came as a surprise and Feirha hesitated momentarily. "She knows me? She told you that?"

Rowena focused on the knight once more. "Umm yes. Sort of." She flushed and pulled her doll to her chest. "Sometimes .. yes, she told me."

Feirha fell silent for a moment considering what the princess had told him. When he looked back at Rowena he suddenly realised how uncomfortable she looked. He had probably got as much from her as he was likely to get but regardless did not want to push her any further. Iorwerth had promised to talk with her anyway and she would probably be more likely to open up to her father. She would be more comfortable at least.

The priest-knight smiled again at Rowena and rose slowly, unthreateningly, to his feet and bowed. "Thank you Princess you have my gratitude and my promise. I will do all I can to reveal Lady."

Rowena stood with a tight smile. "Thank you." She whispered. She watched him go. It wouldn't matter. She couldn't tell them that all they would do, wouldn't matter."

Rowena had kept to her rooms ever since Sir Gwynne had brought her back from sneaking into the city. She did go to check her nursery once a day, but other then that, she could hardly be coaxed from her room to eat.

Iorwerth walked into the room quietly, he didn't want to wake his daughter if she was asleep. But he could see her sitting by the window. "Hello Little Princess." He said as he sat down next to her. "How are you feeling, my little one?" He had been angry when she had run away again, but when she had been so ill, Iorwerth just couldn't be angry with her.

Rowena turned and crawled into his lap. She clung to him, silent and trembling. Her little body seemed so much smaller then those of her age. Her long hair was loose at the moment and looked to weigh more then she did.

Iorwerth held her close. "It is alright little one." but he wanted some answers now, so he said gently. "You have run away before, and you never came back scared. What happened?"

"You won't believe me." she whispered against his neck.

"Why wouldn't I believe you? Little one? I am your father, and I love you. And I know that you do not lie. So trust your old father." He said holding her close.

"I see things. Not with my eyes, things that could happen." She whispered. "Sometimes when I touch something or someone, it just happens."

"I am not surprised. Maybe I should have told you sooner." Iorwerth said. "Neither your mother or I have this gift, but it runs in both our families. And it seems that you have inherited it. are you very scared, little one?" He asked softly.

She nodded vigorously. "Some things I see aren't always good things."

"I know, little one. And you don't know what to do with it. It is a good thing that your brother agreed that you are to be taught by the druids. They can help you understand yourself. Until that time your mother and I are going to protect you. Would you like to sleep with us for now? But you must promise me not to run away any more."

"I can't leave the castle. Hawk is not here." Rowena whispered. Her voice held fierce conviction. "Bad things will happen to a lot of people if I leave the castle."

"Do you know what?" Iorwerth hesitated. "Have you seen anything about Hawk?"

She shook her head no. She had not seen anything bad happen to Hawk. "Papa, when another had this .. gift. Were they wrong? I mean, did they sometimes see things that didn't happen?" Her voice held a sound of worry one so young should not have.

"I am not sure, lass. My mother told me that her mother had the gift, but she died before I was born. Your mother probably knows more about it, the gift is more common in her family. But my mother did tell me, that sometimes a telling could be changed. I don't know which form of the gift you have, we will have to find out. Can you tell me what you have seen, Little one?" Her father asked gently.

"Someone is looking for me, she is not a nice person. If she finds me, bad things will happen. But, I think I already met her." Rowena did not want to get the Lady Morgan in trouble and then be wrong.

"Can you tell me more about her." Iorwerth asked. "That is very important if we are to protect you."

Rowena reached inside her dress and pulled out the medallion. She pulled it off and give it to her Papa. It was pure gold, embossed onto the medallion was a black raven. "I think she is the Raven but I am not sure."

"Where did you get this?" He asked softly, not wanting to alarm her more.

"I took it from the lady." Rowena answered. "I know I shouldn't have gone to her rooms, but I wanted to find something I could touch,. I don't like her and I wanted to know why. Now I wish I didn't know." She whispered.

"Who is this lady, Rowena?" Her father asked. He wanted nothing more then to arrest her, and get the truth out of this woman.

"Her name is Morgan." Rowena whispered. "She is a bad person, papa, a very bad person."

Iorwerth heard about the woman. He had not met her himself. But that would change soon enough, with his son gone, he held authority in the capital. "Don't worry, little one. Soon she will not be able to threaten you any more. Do you want to go with me and be with your mother?"

She nodded her head yes. She didn't want to be alone if he was going to leave the castle. "Papa, if she hasn't done anything wrong yet, can you still stop her? Just because I say so?"

"Yes, I can and I will." He said clearly. Then he took his daughter in his arms, and carried her to her mother.

The party of horsemen including the King finally reached the small village where it was believed that Bronwen and Seth would have spent the night. It was not very large. It had a pub, a market and a blacksmith and that was about it.

Hawk jumped down from his horse, he wasn't used to riding hard any more, so he was actually tired. He then waited until his bodyguards checked the place out. While Vaughan and Galen remained mounted and close to the king, Blaen and Gwawl leapt from their small horses with drawn blades and began a systematic search of the nearby buildings for any threats to the king's safety. The door to the pub, nothing more than an opening covered with a coarsely woven blanket, was quickly thrown aside to reveal a large room with coarse tables and only a few patrons, farmers by the look of them. With no obvious signs of danger the two moved on to the only other building of note, the smithy.A quick search of the entrance to the smithy revealed similar results. Satisfied that there were no immediate danger, the two returned to the king's side and made their report.

Shannon observed the others searching the villiage, ever aware of the surroundings that they were in. Having gotten down from his mount his sword drawn he walked towards the smithy shoppe. Walking in he greeted the smithy in a quiet but warm manner. "How has buisness been as of late? Any high bloods been stirring about?"

"Blasted Village been full of them the last two days." The blacksmith spat on the ground. "You look like one too."

"Ahh but looks can decieve" Shannon smiled. Picking up the hammer from the anvil and striking it with confidence upon a piece of red hot iron from the forge. "But none are here now?" He said looking directly into the blacksmith's eyes.

"Nay sir. They all left when the young couple left. There are some hanger's on in the back of the inn, to hung over to ride with their lord." He answered. Shannon grinned and nodded at the smithy, tossing him a few coins from his pouch, he drew his sword once more and headed for the inn.

Mae flipped back her braids and dismounted, heading towards a crack in the earth inn. It was nothing much but if a Princess were to sleep anywhere in such a rundown village it would most likely be here.

"May I help you mistress." A scarping fat old barkeep began.

When he was told that the Coast was clear, Hawk moved into the inn, which he enterred together with Sir Shannon. He decided to leave the talking to the other man.

Shannon followed the King into the inn, he waited for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Seeing Mae speaking to the bar keep and not seeing any drunks which fit the description of men of high blood, he walked to the bar. "Pardon me Dame" Shannon said while bowing his head slightly. " I believe that the barkeep has a few drunkards in hiding that we need to speak with."

"Ahh yes, Lord Sanglet's men. To drunk to ride out with him, they be in the back room." He answered.

Mae tipped her head in return and stepped to the side, silently taking in her surroundings.

Shannon headed toward the room that the barkeep had motioned to. Carefully pulling back the thick filthy cloth which seperated the two rooms with his free hand. He peered through the gloom to see five men laying in various positions,obviously wrecked from drink. Glancing over his shoulder he motioned to the others to come his direction.

Mae followed and upon taking in the sight rolled her eyes.

Shannon stepped into the gloom, reaching over and opening the hood on the lantern, he looked at each of the men. He decided to wake the dandiest looking of the lot. Taking the flat edge of his sword he nudged the man's head sideways a few times, that failing to wake the drunkard he kicked the man hard in the legs. "Wake up ya curr!" Shannon kicked him again, holding his sword directly in front of the man's eyes. "Wake and answer up!" He looked around to see if any of the others were stirring. As Shannon was shaking the man awake, the others began to stir. The moans and groans caused by the loud noises resounded in the room. "Who ever ya be, wait till later." Groaned one. The man who Shannon had kicked finally groaned and opened an eye. Shannon lost his patience, reaching down he grabbed the leg of the half concious man and dragged him into the main room of the inn. "A bucket of water barkeep!" He shouted whiler dragging the man.

"Salvo, we're lost." muttered Jovis, to his horse. The big charger grunted, and turned left, heading over two hills and past some woods to a village....of sorts. But there seemed to be an inn, and it was getting dark. He rode up, noted the horses outside what must be the inn, and swung down off the saddle. "STAY OUTSIDE....outside. Horses stay outside.....these horses are staying outside, why won't you - arrgh..." and he struggled to get through the door without Salvo pushing past him. "Wow, what happened here ?" he asked, taking in the scene, as a hoof impacted on the door he was leaning on.

As Sir Shannon drug the man across the inn floor, he was followed by a rag tag group of armsmen, struggling to pull weapons. From the looks of them, they were worse for the drink. 'Hey! Let go of Armene." One demanded with a slur.

Shannon dropped the man's leg and shoved his sword at the man's head. "Drop your weapons and on your knees or I'll take his head off right here and now!" Watching the men stagger about Shannon was hard pressed to keep a straight face while making the threat. The men looked about confused and then dropped their swords since none had transgressed. It was clear this was a party of the king's men once they realized who was in the room. Hawk gave his guards a sign to stand down. "Sir knight, good of you to join us. Let us step outside, before there is any more trouble here."

"I'd be delighted to -" said Jovis, still leaning hard on the door, which got another hoof impact. "Hang on." He hissed, "Back off, coming out!" to the horse, then opened the door and grabbed the questing nose, forcing Salvo to back up. "Back, back, back, c'mon, I swear I will bring you something out next time, there's a guid horse." He made another attempt to put Salvo on the hitching rail, but the horse would have none of it, and merely stood there, head hanging over Jovis' shoulder to indicate where the knight went, so did his charger. "I'm awfully sorry - he's a bit spoiled." said Jovis apologetically.

He is not the only one who is a bit spoiled, Hawk thought privately. Yet he smiled. "Well come, Sir knight. I suggest that you train your horse more, he could get us into trouble a next time."

"Aye, that's the problem." agreed Jovis, his Northern accent heavy as always. "I thought it would be guid to train a colt to follow me everywhere,and here is the result. Is everything allwrite in there, sir, cos it looked like a right dustup going to happen. I'm no keen on taking sides in a brawl I dinnae ken who's the right side on." The knight was, as always, polite and cheerful; his travelling gear consisting of dark clothes that showed the dust, and a plaid scarf in a most depressing set, clasped with a sapphire gem clasp that looked suspiciously like a paste gem. But he carried himself well, and the sword at his side was well kept - and he'd made no move to draw it, so he had a calm heart. "I hite Jovis Templeton, Crest of Sapphire, sir."

"I am Hawk." The king said, he was amused by the young man. At least this one treated him like he was still an equal. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, I am lost." said Jovis, easily, with a smile. "I get lost all the time. This flat land, it confuses me. I am on my way to a tournament east - y'know, I could swear that I know you, sir. Are you ever at any tournaments ?"

"Yes." Hawk said. "I have entered a few tournaments in my life, that must be where you know me from." He hoped the others would play along with him, this was too much fun. "I hope you do well."

He turned to the other nights. "Anybody find anything that can help us in this village?" He asked. "I have never failed to show up at a tournament....but I'm always late.Even when I start out months ahead of time. And I only failed to win something once, when I had the ague and fell off my horse." said Jovis. "I don't remember you from the lists, sir, I have entered many tourneys but I don't forget who I compete with....." the knight frowned slightly, thinking. Then he shrugged, deep thought being something Jovis generally avoided. "It'll come to me, sooner or later. What do you need help with ? It is the duty of a knight to offer aid."

"I am looking for my sister." Hawk said. He turned to his knights. "Is it safe to go back in? And is it worth our while?"

(Back in the Inn)

Shannon watched the men drop their weapons. He shook his head at their sad state. "If I were your lord I would have all of you whipped until you were yelping like dogs!" Turning his attention to the half concious man still laying on the floor. "So what have you done with the King's sister??? Speak the truth or you will die with a lie upon your lips!" The flat tip of Shannon's sword was under the other man's chin, as the question was asked, Shannon raised the sword so that he looked into the man's eyes.

"We didn't do nuffin with her. Lord left her with her gaurdsman. She turned him down for being his wife, said she would rather be a whore then Sanglet's wife." The man groaned, much worse for the wear.

Shannon was puzzled, 'Sanglet's wife??' Shannon grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck and half carried and half drug the man through the doorway. "Your Highness" Shannon adressed the King in a respectful tone bowing his head. "According to him M'Lord your sister is with her guardsman.Tell the King what you told me." Shannon held the man up straight.

"The Princess left with the guardsman. The guardsman had arranged a false priest and Sanglet discovered it just in time. He offered to take the Princess home and wed her right proper before she was totally ruined, but the princess scorned him. Said she would rather be a whore." The man's eyes never left the ground.

Hawk was not happy to hear this. He was afraid that the Earl would still be after his sister. " Do you have any idea where they went? I am willing to pay for it." He felt he was running out of time.

"They took their stuff and headed North, your highness." The man now trembled with fear. He had done nothing wrong and now here he was on his knees before the King

Jovis Templeton looked back and forth from the man on the ground to the bloke he'd been chatting with, the wheels slowly turning inside a head unsullied by much more than chivalry, fighting skills and techniques, and a tune or two for the lute. Some thought his horse was smarter; they could be right. I know this fellow, I know him.....highness...... "Oh bloody hell," muttered Sir Crest of Sapphire, and belatedly bowed to the King. "Your highness, forgive me, and if you want my help in fetching the young lady, you have it."

"no harm done." Hawk said. "You made me laugh, and trust me that is a rare thing these days. You are very welcome to join us, but I wouldn't keep you from your tournament if that is important to you."

"Oh, if someone can just point me the right way in a week or so, that will be enough." said Jovis, ever cheerful. "It is at least two months to the next tournament."

The king turned to the others. "If everybody believes this man, I suggest we move north." and to the man before him. "Please get up, no need to be afraid." He gave the man a silver coin.

Shannon looked at his King with a new respect. Turning towards where his horse was he bagan to get ready to ride.

In the late afternoon the group came to a resting spot about a mile away from the trail Pwyll and Niall had found. The men all dismounted and set themselves for battle while Pwyll, Niall, Paluc, and Llewyn discussed some strategy.

"I believe I would be a hindrance going in with you all. I'd have to remain on horseback; which would also make me an easy target to any perched bowmen in the area. Paluc, I want you to lead the assault," Llewyn said more as a statement not open for discussion.

"Aye, sir. I'll do me best," Paluc had tried to sound confidant but fear could be seen in his eyes.

Llewyn looked to Pwyll. "You've seen the encampment. What do you think is the best way into the site?"

"The main path has a guardhouse here," Pwyll said, as he sketched an image of the path in the dirt and indicated its location. "And there are at least two bowmen stationed here and here." He filled in the detail of the glen in the earth, and pointed to where Niall had spotted the archers. "If we take the path and attack the guardhouse and then the buildings in the glen we lose all chance of surprise... as well as becoming easy targets for the archers."

"What about bypassing the guardhouse and plunging straight down the path and into the glen?" Paluc asked.

"We would gain some surprise, but we would probably find the enemy indoors and the advantage of our horses would be lost--and we would still be harried by both the archers and guards." Pwyll indicated the problems on his makeshift map. He pondered the setting for a moment. "If we wait until dusk, we could take a few unmounted men through the woods to first kill the archers and then put fire to one of the buildings. In the confusion, the guardhouse could be overrun quickly and the horses brought to bear on the unprepared men below."

Paluc, Llewyn and Pwyll began to debate the merits of the plan. There was muttering about the feasibility of setting wet buildings on fire, as well as with the possibility that the raiding party might not be successful. Pwyll countered that if they weren't successful then the attack could still proceed as discussed.

As they argued, Niall grew bored and began looking around the camp. All of the men seemed preoccupied checking their weapons and armor and joking with one another. That's when Niall noticed a man sneaking away which seemed a bit suspicious. Having nothing better to do, Niall broke from the discussion and went over to Whisper where Koda and Kain sat as well. Niall removed his great bow and signaled for his dogs to follow.

Niall was not fast but was very agile and could sneak around outdoors with the best of them. He followed the soldier all the way to the trail leading down to the hideout. Niall all of the sudden became very nervous. How did this man know where the trail was and why did he come here? His questions were soon answered.

The soldier waited on the trail edge only for a moment when a rider approached wearing the same clothing as those in the hideout. Niall watch only for a moment as the two conversed. Realizing the danger of this situation, he drew an arrow and let it lose. At the same time, he growled at Koda and Kain who immediately ran towards the soldier. The arrow was true to its mark and landed in the horseman's chest. The rider fell over but his foot got caught in the stirrups as the horse jolted from shock.

The soldier turned to see where the arrow came from and instead found two giant dogs jumping at him. Koda and Kain were a viscous duo and put the soldier on the ground immediately. As he flailed to try and remove the dogs and stand up, Kain bit him under his armpit and held fast keeping him on the ground. The soldier lifted his head as he winced in pain. Koda saw the opening and went for the kill. The man barely had time to scream as Koda bit down and ripped his throat out. Koda and Kain stepped back and sat down watching the man die.

Niall walked over to the dogs cautiously looking around for signs of others. Confident that there was nobody else, Niall bent down and congratulated his friends. He then began to try and cover the tracks that were made. Getting the horse, Niall threw the rider, still caught up in the stirrups and the soldier over the horse and headed for the camp. Niall was met halfway back to the group by Pwyll who looked worried.

"Decide to do a little hunting on your own, Niall?" Pwyll asked, looking at the two bodies on the horse.

"I dinit mean to scare ya when I took off. I watched this man," Niall pulled on the hair of the man, "sneak out of camp and I got suspicious. I followed him and he met up with this man," Niall pulled the hair of the rider.

Pwyll quickly identified the rider as one from the hideout by the clothes he wore. He also couldn't help but notice the other man's throat ripped out. A quick glance at the dogs showed blood around their mouths. Pwyll instantly got the picture. "This would help explain why we hannae found any traces of the Dunn before this." Pwyll looked into the man's face and spat at it. "Aled. Bastard probably told 'em our every move." Looking to the dead rider he said, "They'll be missing this one at the glen soon. We'll need to move now instead of waiting."

The two hurried back to the assembled men, who were just being informed of the general plan of attack. The sight of the two dead men on the horse interrupted the instruction.

Niall pulled the traitor from down and threw his corpse to the ground. "Seems that not everybody was interested in looking for the Donn," Pwyll spoke to Llewyn. "If it wasn't for the giant here, we'd have been the ones surprised."

Llewyn blanched at the sight of the dead guardsman and at the obvious manner of his death.

"We have to ride and ride fast, before this one's missed," Pwyll said jerking a thumb at the dead rider.

"Y-y-yes," Llewyn managed to get out. "Outlander. You're to guide the raiding party. You'll take Dylan, Elis and Edern with you. They've... ah... had some experience in this area." Dylan, an obvious cutthroat gave Pwyll a wide gap tooth grin. Pwyll smiled back and nodded in reply.

"Niall, I'd like you to ride with the main party. We need your knowledge of the layout to mount the main attack. Your horse and size should also help even the odds." The assembled men chuckled a little at the good-natured jibe.

Niall smiled an evil grin. The one that makes people think they are about to get eaten, "Would be my pleasure, scarin' peoples is what I'm all about." More than a few guards stopped chuckling and mumbles of 'I'm glad he's on our side' could be heard.

"Right then. Mount up!" Paluc barked.

Pwyll had the raiding party strip off their armor and most of their horses' tack, and had it transferred to one of the packhorses. Niall salvaged what he could from the corpses, and then hid the bodies to prevent accidental discovery. In short order all were mounted and travelling as quickly as possible down the trail towards the old road.

Well short of the hidden gate, Pwyll indicated that the party should halt and wait for the arranged signal. Llewyn posted archers to watch the road and two nearer to the gate to watch for the signal. The rest of the troop stood mounted and ready to move, while the raiding party entered the woods on foot.

-----------

Pwyll and the men had no difficulty moving quietly in the wood: the ground was mostly moss and the brush cover mercifully thin. Within a short period of time they had managed to circle to the north of the glen and approach the watch position from high ground. They stopped and in the dim light of approaching dusk, surveyed the hill where Niall had previously spotted the archer. Unfortunately, he wasn't difficult to spot.

Clearly visible on a raised hillock, the archer reclined against a large boulder. Around him was a good twenty paces of clear ground, with no cover except for the stone on which he leaned. Pwyll motioned silently to Elis and Edern to flank the hillock to the west in the hopes of providing a clear bow shot if the guard moved from the shelter of the boulder. Dylan and Pwyll then slowly moved forward to a position immediately below and behind the guard's stone. Pwyll began to draw his dirk, but Dylan stopped his hand and drew his own blade. Pwyll then watched as the guardsman crept almost noiselessly up the slope and with a deft movement slit the archer's throat.

Even as the archer's body convulsed in death, Pwyll moved quickly up the hill and helped Dylan arrange the corpse into what would seem a sleeping position. Pwyll nodded appreciatively to the guardsman as they moved back to the cover of the brushes. There was clearly a reason Dylan had been assigned to the raiding party. "Was s'posed ta hang fore I 'came a guard," Dylan offered with a low whisper and a toothy grin. Pwyll only grinned back as they waited for the others to return.

In their brief time on the hill Pwyll had marked the position of the other guard post well, and now the quartet moved as quickly as possible towards it. It had been fortunate indeed that the other archer had been looking elsewhere as they struck, but it was only a matter of time before he or she became suspicious of the lack of movement on the northern hill. When they arrived the situation was much the same as before. This time the archer sat on a stump in the middle of a raised hill, surrounded by clear ground. A quick decision was made that Elis and Edern would try a bow shot, if it failed it would be up to Pwyll and Dylan to rush the archer and hopefully cut her down before she could raise the alarm.

The two raised their bows and began to draw back the strings, when suddenly a voice called out from below their position. Instantly they dropped to the ground as Dylan and Pwyll tensed for a rush.

"Rhona! 'Brought you some hot sup!"

"Thank'ye Orm. I could use it. It's a chill night, even if there's no rain," the archer called back.

Just then a figure, slightly hidden by the hill, came into view. "Well. It's no' fer much longer. I fer one will be glad ta git back to the manor."

"Aye. Be good ta 'ave good stone walls against the cold," the archer replied. The two sat down beneath the stump and prepared to eat.

The raiding party looked on from their nearby cover and waited. When it became clear that the two cult members would continue to talk for some time, Pwyll looked to the others and with a few hand signals indicated his plan. All nodded and Pwyll and Dylan moved silently around opposite sides of the hill. When they had drawn as close as possible to the guard and her companion, they crouched in the brush and prepared to spring.

The two guards continued to chat idly as they ate, until the newcomer finally chanced to look to the other hill. "Hey. He's not s'posed ta be sleeping..." he said as he started to rise.

The sudden snap of the twig in Elis' hands immediately caught the attention of the two diners. Their conversation stopped abruptly as they turned and peered into the wood. A heartbeat later, Edern loosed an arrow that took the partially standing newcomer full in the chest. Panicked at the sight of her dead companion, the bewildered archer hesitated for a moment before beginning to draw her blade. It was all the time Pwyll needed to reach her. As she opened her mouth to shout the alarm, the only sound that emerged was a burbling gurgle as his dirk bit deep into her throat.

As before, the bodies of the archer and her guest were quickly arranged, and the raiding party slipped off the exposed hill and back into the woods. All were pleased at there quick progress. All that remained was to set fire to the small stable. The raiders rested and scanned the small glen for any movement. Aside from the occasional comings and goings from the outhouse, it looked like mealtime was in full swing.

"How're we s'posed to git down?" Elis asked of Pwyll.

"Simple... we walk," Pwyll replied with a grin. Seeing the puzzled faces of his partners, Pwyll explained, "Look. Someone came up the hill to deliver a hot meal, so someone's going to come down. We'll drag those two into the bush first," Pwyll said, indicating the corpses with his thumb. "And then go down one at a time. With luck they'll be a nice fire going before the last one arrives." There were general nods of approval at the plan. It was agreed that Dylan would go first, followed by Pwyll and then Elis.

The bodies were quickly removed from the hilltop and stripped of their cloaks. The first two down the hill would wear these. Dylan drew the cloak around his head and blithely walked down the trail balancing an empty bowl in one hand and a concealed dagger in the other. He reached the stable without incident, entered, and then reemerged a moment later to wave.

Pwyll drew his sword and dirk and hid them beneath his cloak and traced the route taken by Dylan. He had almost reached the barn, when he heard the sounds of running. He glanced behind to see both Elis and Edern moving quickly down the hill while they pointed wildly towards the other side of the valley. Following their outstretched arms, Pwyll looked up to see someone climbing up towards the other guard position. Pwyll began to run. It would be a near thing. They would perhaps have only a few moments to set the fire. He knew that if they couldn't get the fire going, they would be long dead before the troops arrived.

Bursting through the door of the stable, Pwyll took in the scene quickly. A body lay to the right of the door, surrounded in a congealing pool of blood, while above in the loft bright flames could be seen dancing off the ceiling. "Dylan! A brand and be quick," Pwyll called into the loft. Dylan's head popped into view a moment later carrying two torches. "We've been found!" Dylan quickly threw one of his torches to Pwyll, and returned to spreading the flames.

The horses in the stable began to whinny as the smell of smoke came to their nostrils. Several danced nervously about, even as Pwyll shoved his torch into nearby stacks of fodder. As Elis and Edern entered the building Pwyll shouted to them, "Drive the horses out an' yell fire like your own house was burnin'!" Dylan jumped down from the loft a moment later and threw aside his cloak. As Elis and Edern galloped out of the flaming stables, driving the horses before them, Pwyll tossed his torch into the empty stalls and drew his own weapons.

Grinning like some sort of maniacal death's-head, Dylan shouted to Pwyll, "Now's the time for blood and loot."

"Have at 'er me boy'o!" Pwyll shouted back, as the two ran from the building shouting "FIRE!!!"

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

The blazing stable was the beacon signal Niall and the mounted riders had been waiting for. The men immediately spurred their horses and sped for the hideout. As they rounded the ridge and rode down the guards at the gatehouse, a look of fear could be seen in the men of the Donn. When they thundered into the glen, the mere site of the monstrous man leading the attack placed a panic right in the center of the encampment, and the men and women of the Donn man quickly scattered for cover.

Niall raced into the hideout mounted on Whisper. Koda and Kain were right at the horse's heels. Niall held his jagged sword in one hand and the reigns in the other. Niall growled like an animal as he swung at the first Donn man nearly taking his head off as the blade bit through his neck. Whisper came to a stop and began circling as Niall looked for his next enemy, rage consuming him.

Koda and Kain paired up to take down another man. This time it was Kain taking the jugular. Niall didn't waste time to congratulate his friends. He was assailing another Donn member amidst the dogs' destruction. This fellow blocked Niall's first attack only to feel a hoof crush his chest. The man fell to the ground grasping for air. His lungs collapsed.

Niall steered Whisper over to a group of the Donn trying to hold some resemblance of formation. Niall knew that keeping the men unorganized was the key to victory. Whisper came in at full charge and Niall began screaming as if a demon in a fairy tale. It was never a hard trick for Niall to pull off. The men's eyes gazed upon what appeared to be a towering ogre bent on annihilation. The men instantly began backing up. Whisper trampled the first guy as Niall ran his jagged sword across another man's chest.

The other two regrouped pretty fast and one slashed at Niall with his longsword. The blade bit into Niall's leg as Whisper turned to pull Niall away from the second attacker's axe. Niall dropped the reigns and pulled his axe. The oversized head made the two men glance at each other before stepping in for a second strike. Niall deflected the blade while pulling himself back and out of reach of the axeman's swing. Niall swung Whisper around catching the swordsman off-guard and sprawling him to the ground. He then brought the axe down hard, splitting the skull of the axeman.

The swordsman began pulling himself off the ground, but as he retrieved his sword, Niall's axe flew through the air landing in the square in his back. Niall scooped the reigns back up in his free hand and looked for his next foe.

As Niall combed the area with his eyes, he realized that he and Pwyll had underestimated the size of the encampment. There appeared to be more Donn men than they had soldiers at first, but the assault still held its advantage for enough of the Donn men were now dead to make both sides about even.

During Niall's surveillance of the assault, his eyes fell upon Pwyll who looked to be handling two men through speed alone. Niall's eyes quickly fell on an archer sneaking into position on Pwyll. Niall spurred Whisper and took off towards the bowman. Niall realized though, that he would not get there in time as the archer took aim at Pwyll's back. Niall looked again to Pwyll who had just finished with the two men.

"PWYLL DUCK!!" Niall yelled as the man released the arrow. The archer looked in the direction of the scream to see Niall coming up on him. He showed lightning reaction and quickly had another arrow in his bow and was about to knock it. Niall wasn't sure he would make it to the bowman before the arrow was pulled and loosed. As the bowman took aim, Koda and Kain leapt through the air. Kain's body impacted the bow and sent the arrow off to the left of Niall and surprisingly found the kidneys of a Donn man. Koda Grabbed the man's arm and began twisting and pulling. Blood began free flowing from the tearing wound. The bowman hit the ground and Kain came over for the finishing touches.

The arrow had missed Pwyll's head by a hair's breadth. He had heard Niall's shouted warning and dodged to the right just as the arrow was loosed. He turned his blood-spattered face towards his attacker just in time to see Niall's dogs rend the unfortunate archer apart.

"Thank'ye Niall! I owe you a debt!" Pwyll shouted over the cacophony of battle sounds. "Who's ahead? You or your dogs?"

Niall gave out a deep bellow of a laugh, "I think I got four and the dogs got two. But it's hard counting without using my fingers." Niall held up his blade to show that his hand was busy with other things than counting. A smile flashed on Niall's face and Pwyll could swear Niall had just made his first joke.

"Three heads so far!" Pwyll replied with a grin, just as one of the Donn rushed at him with a sword. Pwyll caught the man's clumsy slash with his dirk, and with a quick spin of his body drove his shortsword deep into the man's chest. "Make that four!"

"Den we must now be even. We'll see about that when it's all said and done," Niall laughed again and spurred whisper onward as the two men entered the fray one more time.

The battle continued to rage on. Twice the enemy formed up into ranks only to be broken apart by the mounted guards. Losses were heavy on both sides. Around the field riderless guards' horses mingled with the escaped horses of the Donn. Many men lay face down in the now muddy field, and many more sat groaning with grievous wounds. At some unknowable point the tide turned in favor of the guards, but still the Donn fought fanatically on.

Niall was in his element, guiding his great-horse from one pocket of Donn resistance to the next. Those that tried him died beneath his jagged sword, those that didn't simply ran. But strong doesn't always mean lucky. While chasing a small group of men in and around the sacrificing stones, he miscalculated his distance to one of the overhanging poles and was unseated as Whisper and the dogs thundered on. Landing hard on the stony ground, he lay there momentarily stunned. Two passing Donn saw their chance to kill the prone giant and surged forward to finish him. But even as they neared their prey, a sudden high pitched cry and a wild flapping of wings halted their advance. Niall's black falcon, Spitir, had appeared over its master from nowhere, and the giant's would-be killers hesitated.

It proved a fatal mistake. Distracted by the bird, the two did not see the rapidly approaching outlander until it was too late. With a great leap and a wailing battle cry the little man sliced the ear off one, came up and thrust his dirk into the eye of the other. Turning on the one eared man, Pwyll began a carefully series of timed feints and thrusts. But the man was not going to be taken easily. He parried and riposted well in spite of his head wound, and slowly forced Pwyll back with his longer weapon. Pwyll couldn't seem to get past the length of steel and at several points suffered cuts from his opponent even as he gave ground. Suddenly Pwyll's foot caught a stone and his arms began to flail wildly as he tried to regain his balance. The one-eared man almost laughed as he closed distance to finish his opponent. But even as he stepped in, Pwyll gracefully hopped to the man's left side and thrust his short blade deep into his abdomen.

As the man blinked in disbelief, Pwyll smiled at him and repeated an old proverb, "Never chase a bird with a broken wing."

"It seems we're now even on the life debt, my little friend. What do those two put your head count at... six!" Niall gave a hearty laugh straight from his gut that echoed through the hideout and put fear into a few men on both sides of the battle. As Niall got to his feet, Pwyll began laughing. It wasn't because Niall's joke was funny, on the contrary, it was because it was Niall's second joke of the evening... or ever for that matter.

The two men turned to eye the fighting. Things looked well in hand for the guards now. There were heavy losses, but, save a few small clusters, the Donn had all but surrendered. Pwyll and Niall were beginning to slowly relax, when the outlander saw a knot of Donn moving steadily towards one of the buildings. At first he was unconcerned, but as they neared the building he saw the torches they carried and suddenly realized their purpose. "Niall, quickly! They mean to set fire to the building," Pwyll said as he broke into a run. "There must be captives inside!" Niall followed hard on Pwyll's heels.

Six of the Donn had slipped away from the battle, and from the barricade before the door it was obvious that whoever was inside was not intended to escape. As Pwyll and Niall approached the building, they could hear the sound of children screaming from the building's few high widows.

Pwyll and Niall both looked scared, for they didn't think they could get to the men in time to stop them. Pwyll stopped and quickly scooped up a bow and quiver from one of the dead bodies. He immediately took aim and fired.

One of the enemy took an arrow through the skull, while the other five stood in shock for a second at the site of their quivering friend. It worked as a perfect distraction. Niall, remembering all the torture he sustained as a child, had entered into a berserk trance and had closed the distance in a few great strides. As the Donn looked up from their fallen comrade, their eyes fell on the massive giant hurtling forward like a boulder down a hill. With a jump, he crashed into the group and knocked every one of the men to the ground.

Unfortunately, Niall was oblivious to Pwyll's shouts for him to stop. As the Donn fell to the ground their torches flew in the direction of the building. Almost instantly, the structure was ablaze from the ground to the roof. The screams of the children could be heard throughout the camp.

Pwyll, realizing that they couldn't stop the fire until the men were dead, began to knock and fire arrows at the remaining Donn as they rose. Niall had rolled back onto his feet and, still in his berserk rage, began hacking the men with his oversized axe. The enemy never stood a chance. When all was said and done, Niall and Pwyll had killed three each, but the fire blazed on.

Guards who came over to watch the scene, stood next to Pwyll and began mumbling about how it was too late. Pwyll turned to them and shouted, "Cowards!" as he ran to Niall. The giant, who had slowly regained his senses, was crying profusely and trying to throw water from a nearby trough onto the fire.

"'Tis all right, big friend, we'll save them," Pwyll said trying to comfort the big fellow. The two now stood thirty feet from the doorway with Pwyll's arm around the waist of the crying giant. Pwyll didn't want to admit it, but the fire was out of control. There wasn't anyway to put that blaze out.

"Yes," Niall said in sad voice as he looked into the flame. The cries of the children echoing through his head, "We'll save them. Just tell the little ones that ogres aren't all that bad." Pwyll took only a second to register the comment before he realized what the giant was about to do. "AAARRRRGGG" Was all Pwyll could hear as the giant took off at his fastest pace right for the building.

"NNOOO!" Pwyll screamed in the distance, but Niall stayed focused on the wall. The barricade was too big at the door. Niall's only thought was the screams of the children inside.

Pwyll watched helplessly as Niall headed for the wall next to the door. 'There's no way a man could make it through that wall,' Pwyll thought as the giant rushed forward.

But then again, Niall was not an ordinary man. He crashed hard against the wall and, as Pwyll had expected, knocked himself senseless in the process. But the crashing of timber as the wall gave under the giant's blow could be clearly heard by all.

Through the opening Niall had made, frightened children began to emerge. Previously immobile guards rushed over and began helping lead the children away from the building even as Pwyll and others tried to douse the opening with water. Moments later the children were out, but the creaking from the structure said it wouldn't stand much longer.

Pwyll got as close to the opening as the flames would allow and began to shout at the dazed and now burning giant, "Niall, you ugly pig of a whoreson! Get up! You're worthless! You're not fit to be called human!" The guards stood and stared in disbelief as Pwyll heaped insults on the giant, but they had the desired effect on Niall.

The giant shook his head and heard every insult made by Pwyll. He could tell that he was on fire, but held back the pain. A fire in him burned brighter than the blaze around him Niall was determined to squash the little man for what he had said.

Pwyll moved twenty feet back from the opening and watched as the giant made it to his feet with fire dancing all around him. Niall stumbled out of the opening and fell to the ground. The guards started throwing water on him and telling him to roll around, but Niall ignored their commands as he crawled toward Pwyll. His angered glare fixed on Pwyll until Niall passed out at Pwyll's feet. The fire on him and in him finally went out.

Pwyll looked down on Niall, and was immediately sorry that his plan had been so brutal. "I'm sorry my good ogre, I had no choice." As the children cried in the background, Pwyll held back tears of his own.

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

The day was bright but cold as the battered troop of men guided the wagon up the King's Road. As they passed, onlookers fell silent and mothers pulled their children close. Some of the more curious townsfolk, wondering at the contents of the wagon, began to follow the grim procession as it wound its way towards Caer Alban. By the time the retinue stopped before the castle gate a small crowd had gathered.

The leader dismounted, and with a stiff limp approached the head of the gate watch. After a brief exchange, he motioned to the assembled men and a group of female children were led into the castle. Then the rest of the battered guardsmen dismounted, and led their horses and the wagon into the castle compound. Before entering himself, the leader turned to the little outlander and large heavily bandaged man who had remained mounted and simply nodded an acknowledgement. The two returned the gesture, turned their horses and slowly followed the old road down into the town.

The crowd, sensing that there would be no drama, dispersed and went back to their daily routine.

It was not until the following day, when thirty-eight heads were set on spear points around the castle wall, that the townsfolk began to discuss the strange tale of the long day's journey.

"Have I really changed that much? Have I gone so far the other way, that I can no longer lift my hand to save those closest to me? In the past, it was all second nature. I knew what had to be done, and I did whatever it took to make sure it was so. I had the prospect of revenge to power me, to give strength to my arm and guidance to my sword. But now?... But now. 'Now' is a foreign land, full of strange people and even stranger circumstances. Nothing remains of my inspiration. My hate. I make promises that I cannot deliver, and it wounds me greatly to have to come to terms with my fallibility. Do you know how much I would give to have but an ounce of that past, in my hand to use as I could use it now? At least then I would no longer be a mockery, and the hideous game that I play would finally be at an end..."

Amlyn shifted slightly, keeping his eye on the burly giant who stood firmly in the doorway of the alehouse. A sign hung from a metal spar above the door, but the lettering had long ago faded away, and the wood was warped and buckled with age. This close to the darkness of night, light could be faintly seen through the grime of the windows, while the sounds of muffled laughter could be heard from within.

"I am a fool for thinking I can redeem myself. I am no better than a cripple. I pretend that I may have some relevence, but I am deluded. Those men had every right to laugh in my face and throw me out. For I do not even scare the youngest of children." He turned his back to the building and closed his cloak around his chest, soaking in his own self-disgust. "Do you understand all this, old man?"

"Nobody's perfect," muttered Discord.

"Why did you bring me here then?" Amlyn retorted. "You waste my time and your own."

"You owe a debt. A debt of loyalty. Perhaps you cannot find inspiration in hate, or even love. But you should muster courage in the belief that you both share a bond beyond simple friendship or employment."

"What makes you so sure she would even want my assistance?"

"Deep down, are you really willing to risk otherwise?"

Amlyn did not want to really consider the risk. His mind was too full of visions of failure and disaster. Instead, he leant against his horse and examined what he could see of his former servant in the fading light of dusk. "You look tired old one. Time is playing tricks with you." Discord's face appeared to have collected many more lines since he had seen him last. He also seemed to bear a weariness that reflected itself in the trembling of his hands, and a slowness in his movements, signs that he had never seen before. While he had expected Discord to become more senile and decrepit in mind to match his failing body, he was instead surprised to find him speaking with a wisdom that somehow managed to surpass his considerable years. As if in sympathy for his appraisal, Discord coughed roughly.

"I never liked the games time played. They were always to it's advantage, and time never loses in the end."

Despite the situation, Amlyn smiled. A sudden outburst of cheering from the alehouse brought his impromptu grin crashing down, leaving nothing but a worried frown. "Even while I stand here and and bemoan my contradictions, one who was always innocent is forced to suffer longer from my inaction. Ach, I should have gone on to Ailinne instead of coming back here... What the hell was I thinking?"

"Hehehe- *cough* I am pretty insistent when I choose to be." Discord smiled smugly.

"No... you did the right thing, old man. I have agonised long enough. And I can't put this off any further."

Discord raised up the scabbard and Amlyn gently placed his hand over the silver hilt. Before drawing the blade, Amlyn thought one last time about Lady Melangell and the promises he had made to her. He could already see them lying scattered and broken on a background of blood. What scared him most was two things. The first, being that the blood shed was his own. And the second, being that there were other oaths he had made which could end up the same way... If he lived past the next hour.

The silver sword flowed from the scabbard like mercury. Amlyn turned around, and for a brief moment, he could see her, standing at the castle gate, left alone and rejected by his own stubborness and reluctance to accept the assistance of others. He knew now that he had abandoned her then. He would not do so now.

"I'm coming, Nia," he whispered.

**********

"And then what happened?" pressed Nwython.

"... Ah, he walked up to th' guard at th' door. The big fella made 'alf an effort to put a palm in 'is chest, but he stepped past it and smashed 'is forehead in 'is face. 'E went down right smartly after that. Then, 'e went inside, an' after a few minutes of yelling an' screamin' an' breakin' stuff... E' came back out wiv this red-haired girl under 'es arm. Th' place was well lit by then, er, milord."

"How did he look?"

The young boy shrugged and looked back behind Nwython at the smoulding ruins of the alehouse. "Same as when 'e went in, jus' normal like." Several peasants were dragging out a body, badly charred and blackened by the flames. A small crowd had gathered to examine the scene, but they were held at a distance by several soldiers of the garrison. "'E put 'er on 'is 'orse an' led it away, slowly."

Nwython pressed several coppers into the boy's hand and shooed him away, just as Tyngyr approached with a concerned expression on his face. "My lord," he began, bowing.

"Let me guess. The building is completely destroyed and everyone inside is dead?"

Tyngyr nodded after a pause, barely hiding the disappointed expression on his face.

"There is no need to be concerned. The asset won't be missed and those men will no longer need to be paid. In fact, it allows us to rebuild the site to something more... appropriate." Then he chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

Tyngyr frowned at his master's apparent lack of reason.

"'Tis simple," replied Nwython confidently, recognising Tyngyr's unasked question. "We gained much more than we lost. I don't expect you to understand, but I expect you to make sure this remains quiet. Go!"

Tyngyr bowed quickly and moved away on his master's errand.

Nwython watched another corpse emerge from his test. The results were very, very good indeed...

The morning after the events of "Contradictions"...

In the darkest part of the city, not too far from the alehouse where he had retrieved Nia from the previous day, Amlyn found what he was looking for. A brass tau cross was a beacon amidst the squalor and filth of the lowest of the low, and it served it's purpose in attracting them like flies to dung. Several men and women, dressed in plain robes of light gray moved about the downtrodden, dispensing a mix of food, medicine and words of the one god to any who requested them. Amlyn eyed off the crowd warily, but he could sense little potential for trouble amongst them. But he was nervous for other reasons.

He dismounted at the door, and for a moment he pondered about facilities for his horse. He need not have been concerned for too long, for shortly a man thin of face emerged from within, and approached him quickly.

"The master is expecting you Sir Amlyn," he said bowing. "Please enter, and I will see to your horse."

"Gramercy," replied Amlyn. he allowed his horse to be led away, watching while he absentmindedly adjusted the scabbard around his waist. Shifting his drawn cloak back to cover his armored attire, he slowly pushed open the door and entered.

His eyes were instantly drawn to a large granite altar at the far end of the room. Several candles and a large brass cross rested on it's smooth and polished surface. Another cross was mounted on the wall behind it, made once again from massive carved planks of cedar. On either side of the centre of the room, stood two rows of pews, once again constructed of cedar and still smelling like they had been freshly painted with an overcoat. Despite the hive of activity outside, there were only a few of the clergy inside, and most were directing themselves to putting what appeared to be finishing touches on the interior.

"The stairs if you would my lord." A younger man this time gestured over to Amlyn's right where a wide set of stairs hugged the wall. He strode over and took the stairs two at a time, paying cautious attention to what may be waiting for him on the second floor.

"Sir Amlyn!" said Nwython with all the familiarity of a man greeting a long-lost brother. "What a pleasure it is to see thee again! Please, step into the study if you will, and we can make ourselves comfortable." He held out a hand towards the end of the hall to show the open door. "We have much to catch up on..."

Amlyn already felt like he had made a mistake, but said nothing. Instead he moved ahead of the older man and towards the invited room.

The study was very similar in layout to the room Amlyn remembered during his time in Llydaw under Nwython's tutelage. Indeed it was a style that Amlyn realised he had adopted himself over the subsequent years that followed. The center of the room was dominated by a huge oak desk, which was completely cleared of anything that would clutter it. There were two chairs, one in front and one behind the desk, padded on the seat in dark, tanned leather. There were no tapestries or paintings on the wall, or ornaments or statues to provide any character, and a single window in the wall behind the chair was tightly shuttered against the outside world. While on a grander scale, it was a simple layout with minimal fuss for the trappings a person would collect in life. The only difference Amlyn noticed was that one half of the western wall was taken up with a large bookshelf. The strange thing was that only one shelf appeared to be used, which was only half full. He estimated there may have been only around fifteen books in total. But that number in itself was extremely rare outside of a king's library.

"I am working on it," noted Nwython, observing Amlyn's interest. He moved around to take a seat around the far end of the table, while one of the clergy entered the room to deposit a wooden tray that contained a flask and several mugs on the desk. "What was the first thing I taught you," asked Nwython, while he waited for the clergyman to leave.

"...Look beyond the obvious," Amlyn replied. While he resented being 'played' with, he thought it best not to antagonise his host too much before getting to the point of his visit.

"Indeed. And while I do not wish to brag, I am particularly pleased that I did so in your case. You were quite busy yesterday evening... so I hear," he added, smiling.

Amlyn just looked at him for a moment and then walked over to look more closely at the books.

Nwython leant back in his chair and clasped his hands on his lap. This was turning out even better than he could possibly have imagined. Something was on Amlyn's mind, and to come here so soon after returning from his recent activities would ensure that this meeting would be very interesting. "How did you find the Raven's company?" he prodded, after the door had been closed.

Amlyn paused to think about what he would say. "Enlightening," he admitted. "Your meddling was actually useful for a change." Reading the embossed print on the spines of the books had revealed little apart from religous and minor historical texts pertaining mainly to local regions.

"Ah, but you are concerned with my intent in sending you there."

"Nay, Nwython. I have experienced enough of your methods of teaching in the past. I realise when I am being dunked in the deep end of the river and made to learn to swim." He moved away from the shelves and sat down in the chair opposite Nwython.

"Your memories serve you well then. You always were able to float very quickly." Nwython didn't mention that this time he had expected him to sink.

Amlyn decided to do away with the banter. He was never patient when it came to small talk. "I need a favour."

Nwython's eye's narrowed. "What do you need?" he said in an omnipotent tone.

"Your silence on what we discuss, to begin with," said Amlyn.

"I trust few others in this province to my thoughts as it is, Amlyn. I will not share yours either."

Amlyn paused and reconsidered his folly yet again. He felt like he was poking a poisonous asp in the eye with a burnt stick. "And I want to exchange favour for favour. I will not be kept in the dark with a debt that may arise in the future to repay what you deliver now. I would at least know the cost."

Nwython cracked his knuckles and stood up, crossing his hands behind his back. "Well now. This is obviously important, so important that you would risk bruising your pride to come and ask me for help... So to soothe it, I'll tell you what I want first. Alright?"

Amlyn nodded.

Nwython moved around to the bookcase and pushed on the edge closest to the window. The whole set of shelves slid across the floor with a rumble, revealing a cavity in the wall and more shelves. Although this time, there was a vast amount of papers, weapons, and miscellanous items piled on them. He picked up a large black bundle of cloth that included a long weapon (a sword?) and placed it on the desk in front of Amlyn. "I am aware," he began, "that you made certain... promises to one of the Order of the White Shield." He unwrapped the edges of the bundle, revealing it's contents in a gentle flourish. A sword of onyx metal with a large ruby inlaid into the crosspiece, a twisted brother to his silver sword of emerald. A Black surcoat and a black reversable cloak, clearly emblazoned with the charge of a blood-red tau cross. And finally, a set of chainmail, forged jet from the furnaces of Llydaw. Other pieces such as boots, helm and gloves made up the outift to what he had worn as a Black Knight. "You cannot deny what you are, Amlyn," muttered Nwython in a low voice. "It was your choice to adopt this... this madness. Your words to Melangell were hollow, for in your heart you breed a darkness that your words will never hide. If you want my help, you'll take up your old blade and your charge, and run from yourself no longer."

He moved away, back to the bookcase to push it closed, and then to return to his seat. In the meantime, Amlyn could do nothing but stare at the hated pieces of his past, laid out before him.

"Secondly," said Nwython, as he settled once again back into his chair. "You will kill Guaire. Lady Melangell has almost arrived back in Dinodig, and I will see to it that he takes the first ship to Nethbo to hunt you down himself. You will go to Nethbo, slay him, and then you will finally renounce for all time any claim that you have by blood to the throne of Dinodig." Satisfied, he added "then our deal would be complete."

Amlyn still could not muster up enough sense to speak. He ran his hands over the fabric of the surcoat, recalling dark times and dark deeds. Nwython allowed him the time to sit and brood, until finally Amlyn began to speak.

"I need you to find and return two missing children for me. Their names are Edhan and Dyvadd. They were last known to be under the care of the King of Dinas Dwyr, but perhaps you might be able to locate them."

For Nwython, pieces 'clunked' into place. Amlyn began to describe them, but he raised a hand to stop him. "No matter," he said. "I know where they are. Dinas Dwyr had them sent to Dinodig to avoid being found by... their mother. Costic's daughter, Morgan. Lady Morgan." Of course! he thought triumphantly. "Oh this is a fair deal Amlyn. For what I thought would be an exchange in my favour, you have certainly managed to surprise me. The King of Dinas Dwyr will be livid should he ever discover that Morgan is alive, and should her children make their way back to her... truly terrible."

"Should he ever find out," murmured Amlyn, his eyes glittering darkly, "I will find you first."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Nwython said. Excited at such a turn of events, he stood up again and paced to the window. His concern at the Sect and their possible uncontrolled influence on the province began to recede. "Is there some sort of deal you have with Morgan for their return?"

"Only my freedom," said Amlyn, infuriated at how Nwython seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Nonsense! There must be something more, otherwise you would not be here!"

"Why disadvantage myself while the deal is currently fair?" countered Amlyn.

Nwython waved his hand in dismissal. "No matter. This changes things regardless. Rest assured that I already suspected Morgan and the Raven were one and the same. I will not reveal her purpose or identity, as long as you hold to the letter of our agreement. Do we have a deal?" "I'm not finished yet," replied Amlyn.

"Oh?" Nwython's eyes narrowed again, but this time there was some concern. He turned back around from the window to face Amlyn.

"You mentioned about last night. I *was* busy. It seems that the alehouse that used to stand several streets away from here was, and is, owned by..." Amlyn thought for a moment how to put things. "... the church. It seems strange to me that the clergy would have need for a cesspit of mercenaries. Regardless, I would like that land rebuilt with a house, and it's title passed to me. The church will also pay for its upkeep and maintenance, for a term no less than a hundred years. Its only logical that should Guaire die, and I am the last heir by blood to pass up any claim to the throne, that you or whoever it is you answer to would be in a position to lay claim to it. In that case it should not be out of reach of your consideration. " It was a pitiful addition to the existing deal, but Amlyn wanted to bleed something more out of his old master, even if it was a trifle.

Nwython frowned, but despite the show, he cared little for the relatively minor expense the extra demand would incur. Amlyn had guessed correctly that he would still come out far in front. "Done," he said. "The effects of which, must take place immediately. I will send a pigeon to Dinodig today, to inform them to ready the two children for the journey. They will have to travel with the King's entourage, but I will place them under the care of a surrogate until you arrive in Nethbo to fulfil your part of the deal. After Guaire is dead, then you may take them back to Abertawe."

"So be it," said Amlyn. "I will wear your clothes and wield your sword, but know that I will always have your head in the back of my mind should our agreement fall foul on your part."

"Excellent. Then we have nothing further to discuss... today. Would you care to perhaps stay and enjoy some lun-"

"Nay," interupted Amlyn. I have had as much as I can stand, he thought.

"I did not think so," said Nwython. He opened the door and allowed Amlyn to exit into the care of one of his clergy. "See to it that he has a room to change, and make sure that his horse is prepared."

**********

And prepared it was. When Amlyn emerged from the 'church' with his new (but long familiar) wardrobe, his horse was waiting for him. It was fully covered in a black caparison, finished with red stitching around the hems and the red tau cross clearly emblazoned on the flanks of his steed. The peasants milling about outside all turned to watch him, and Amlyn in turn looked at them. Several scurried away fearfully, while many averted their eyes or suddenly found new interest in mundane things like the dirt at their feet. He could almost hear the whispering of those further away from his immediate view. Damn it all to hell, he thought. He added the extra bits of armor and clothing he did not need to wear to his saddlebags, and carefully mounted his horse. Then he rode away, through the streets where the people could see him and stare. All of the rumours suddenly became very real...