The Conjured and the exiles

a/n; i have tryed to sort out some of the errors in this. Hopefuly it's a bit better!




Daen was once again was spiting angry with her dark lord. Darcia however was somewhat relieved by this, he by far preferred her wroth than to see the haunted look or the endlessly lost look that she had been wearing.
The noble sitting tall upon Per watched as the girl stalked across the court yard to relieve the groom who was fighting with her chestnut. The girl had pulled her cloak up as much as she could to hide the chocker.
Somehow despite the fact that his mask would hide where he was looking she noticed him watching her futile efforts at concealing the jewellery, and glared daggers at him as she mounted her horse. His mouth curled in to a smirk at how her eyes burned with a hot emerald fire despite her cool expression.


It would be a four day journey to Bala. Darcia had traced out a route on a map for her back at Echostone hall, they would head north through the Cour-Imperium, up in to the rolling midlands of Bre crossing the Western marsh at Pontas causeway, and then it was only a day’s ride through the lands of the falling lakes to Bala the heart of Lord Darcia’s seat. Once out of the city Daen’s heart was lifted by the simple joys of being out in the open air on a fresh horse. And for the first leg of the days travel had her hands so full of containing her seemingly tireless mare that she didn’t have time to brood over her current grievances. In fact dispite her rather tender rear she had quite forgotten about it until Veione rode up beside her.

‘I have never seen you ware that before?’ Veione said. The dark haired girl’s hand flew to the silver band around her neck her eyes to his face in a searching gesture. Veione wondered what he said to have put the stricken look on the girl’s face and so decided to pay her a complement. ‘It suits you.’

‘You think?’ she said unconvinced.

He sensed that it was perhaps not a subject that she wanted to pursue when she ventured no further information and there was an odd closed expression on her face. He decided to change tack. ‘How is Rosie going?’

‘I’m not calling her Rosie.’ Daen replied scornfully. The little mare whinnied and strained towards Veoine’s horse managing to get close enough to the dun to sniff his dark nose before letting out a high pitched squeal and stomped her hoof hard on the ground.

‘Its bad luck to change a horse’s name Filly.’ Replied Veoine.

‘The dealer just picked a name from thin air; it’s not her real name any more than Filly is mine.’ Daen said as she managed to get the chestnut rein the mare back to a walk. In protest the mare drew in a deep lung full of air then whinnied at the top of her voice announcing her displeasure. ‘Name’s are important you can’t just give one out just like that. In Nheim we believe that your name shapes you, horses included.’

‘So what are you going to call her then?’

Daen had decided upon a name during the morning and answered immediately. ‘Thuharu. Thu for autumn, and Haru for sun in Nhemian.’

Veoine repeated the name to himself before he let out a loud laugh doubling over until he was practically crying.

‘And what’s so funny about that?’ The woman pouted, unsure as to why her suggestion was been ridiculed, ‘Her coat reminds me of autumn sunshine.’

The blond captain managed to compose himself. ‘Oh it’s a very fitting name.’ he pleaded, the laughter still in his eyes.

Daen scowled. ‘Fitting?’

The small mare let out another bugling whinny startling Daen. Veoine pealed off in to another fit of laughter. Daen by now quite pissed off demanded. ‘What’s so funny about her name? Thuharu is a nice name.’

‘Thuharu is a nice name. It’s just that in Chade Thuharu means to shout or sing nosily.’ Veoine finally explained. The dark haired girl blinked.

‘Oh.’ A wide smile broke out across her face. ‘Ah I see, well that’s fitting too.’

‘So Thuharu it is then.’ Veoine said, Thuharu hearing her name swivelled her mobile little ears towards him, and then cheekily tried to nip his horse, causing it to spook sideways. ‘I wonder which language says her name means to bite?’

Fifteen miles outside of Mawnaws just off the main road and four miles from the nearest town Daen spotted an encampment. At first she thought it must have been a band of travellers, but the shelters looked to permanent. Then she wondered if it was a travailing fair of some kind. But as they drew closer she saw all the tell tale signs of a military operation, swords, burly men, and the tents and barracks were all in neat orderly rows. A banner flapped half heartedly in the light breeze, as it uncurled Daen recognised Darcia’s crest upon it. Unconsciously her hand found its way to her chocker again fingering it absently. Turning to the blond captain besides her she asked. ‘Veione who are all these people?’

‘Lord Darcia’s body guard.’ Veione replied. ‘The emperor get’s a bit nervous about having them in the city so we usually camp them out here in reach if we need them, but not so close as to get his majesties knickers in a twist.’

‘Bodyguard? ‘She snorted ‘Since when did Darcia need a body guard?’

Veione laughed. ‘True, but there’s much you don’t know Filly. Even Lord Darcia has enemies.’

‘I can believe that.’ Daen smiled shyly back at him, hoping that Darcia himself didn’t over hear. Veione sensing her predicament lent in to her conspiratorially.

‘Don’t worry I won’t tell on you.’

She smiled back gratefully. But curious asked. ‘Who would worry Lord Darcia enough that he needs all these men?’

‘Well, technically he doesn’t need all these men.’ The blond captain drawled. ‘Ten of his crack troops would probably more than suffice. However it’s somewhat expected of a great lord to bring a large retinue, you know as part of his dignity. Also it acts as a deterrent for trouble. And it gives the boy’s a bit of a holiday.’

Daen smiled at the answer but shook her head. ‘That’s not what I asked Veoine, I said who?’

‘Ah.’ He said with a wry grin, amused that she had caught him trying to wheedle out of answering her question. ‘I don’t like talking about politics.’

‘Veoine?’ she persisted her green eyes encouraging when he mock ignored her.

‘Oh, very well.’ He relented. ‘But it’s a boring topic. What do you know of the Imperial court?’

‘Precious little.’ Daen admitted.

‘Darcia’s seat is a marcher dukedom, which means by tradition he is given prince like powers within his dominion so that he can protect the borders. So he raises his own taxes to use on what he wants, and he can for the most part make his own laws.’ Veoine looked at the girl to make sure that she was following. Daen nodded and he continued. ‘ what worries the other nobles the most is that Lord Darcia had a very sizable and well trained army if lord Darcia should ever have the inclination it makes him a very powerful political force. The emperor resents Darcia's autonamy, and Darcia resents the emperor medaling in things he dose not understand. The more power you have the less people trust you, and so Darcia doesn’t trust the emperor to trust him.’

‘It seems a strange way to behave.’ Daen answered thinking for a moment as they rode in to the camp. ‘How many men are there?’

‘Here there are about fifty, but the whole army is about four hundred strong. Oh You will like captain Brand.’

‘Captain Brand?’ she asked as someone emerged from the closest tent looking up at the approaching cavalcade and waved.

‘Darcia’s head engineer, he’s a good sort, bit eccentric, but a real character.’ Veoine stood up in his stirrups and gave a shout, ‘Ho there Timor!’

‘Ho there Veione!’ The other captain replied in kind. Captain Timor Brand was to look at a typical Core- Imperium, with skin tanned golden, and eyes of deep brown, his hair was prematurely gray and with his silver rimed spectacles he looked old but at the same time ageless. He would not have looked out of place in a library Daen thought. As the captain ambled over to greet the group an old hound and her two fully grown pups bounded at his heals. Daen decided that Veoine was probably right and that she would like Captain Brand.

Daen found herself both ignored and at the centre of grate interest as she stood by her horses head waiting for Darcia’s men to saddle up to continue the journey onwards. The solders went about their business ignoring the unusual presence of a woman in their midst, and yet Daen felt their eyes upon her when ever she was not looking. The moment she turned around the men would be suspiciously engrossed in their tasks. It was a bit like a game of grandmother’s foot steps, every time she looked around there were more of them and they were encroaching closer but she didn’t see them move. It was beginning to unnerve her a little.

‘Dae, come here?’ She herd lord Darcia calling her. She complied gladly trotting over but tried not to show it. She did not greet her lord in any way but simply came to stand close to him looking at his masked face in annoyed expectation, as if he had disturbed her doing something important. Darcia put a hand on her lower back the firmness of his fingers served as a warning against any further petulance. He had already warned her sternly about making a scene in front of his men, any sign of disobedience and he would not hesitate to discipline her. Darcia ruled with an iron fist and it would set a bad example if he made exceptions. She listened to the men talking absently, soon bored of the conversation which was mostly to do with supplies and logistics. After a somewhat hasty lunch of bread and cheese the substantilly larger party was back on the road again. And they would not stop until nightfall.


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Leoff and Vas settled in to their new stable. The Edouard’s complex was fairly large, perhaps not as big as some of the most avid gladiator owners but still considerably sizeable. The family owned thirty or so gladiators already all housed and trained within the complex. It had its own bath’s, sauna, toilets, a canteen, as well as a weight room and courtyard to train in. Not far from Spires it was defiantly on the upper end of scale as accommodation in Arena was concerned. And for the first time in the whole of his life Leoff had his own room. It was nothing to fancy, just a good sized bed, with a proper mattress, a stout blanket chest at its foot, and two shelves, nothing fancy but it was clean and it was his.

Leoff was exhausted after a day’s work out. Their new trainer as was to be expected continued to test Leoff and Vas finding out their strengths and weaknesses. Vas true to form had found out more about the place in one day than Leoff could find out in a month and filed his friend in on all sorts of both useful and useless information such as Rilo, the red haired gladiator had a week knee, that the cook would give you an extra portion if you smiled in the right way, that Fen had two sisters, and that the Edouard family were part of the Arcanum and Gaius was once of the emperors chief advisors but not was all well in that family.

It had been a plesent first week, with less matches to fight in there was less pressure and more time to prepare, but on the flip side nobles by nature were capacious and you had to accept that you were at their beck and call. If your mater wanted you to fight a lion you fought a lion, and if they had a sudden urge to watch a fight at two in the morning then you fought at two in the morning. And Leoff was just about to discover how capricious a noble could be. Lying on his back Leoff dangled the dog tag he wore in front of his face. It was a strange paradox to be a gladiator, to have no control over your destiny and yet to be the only one who could decide it once in a fight. Now that he was here now what happened? Fate seemed to answer this question when there was a knock at his door and he was summoned to the oval arena. Leoff sighed, his owner probably just wanted to show off his newest acquisition, still he chose a funny time to do it.

Oval was a small arena just off Spires. It held private fights for those who could afford it. It was rumoured that Oval would host any kind of event that you liked as long as you could pay for it no questions asked but Leoff fairly new to the city did not know this yet. Leoff was shown to the arena floor; its surface was saw dust not sand. Most arenas closed to Spires used sand, saw dust was commonly used in matched to the death as it absorbed the blood and could be easily swept up, Leoff on smelling the familiar sent of dry wood began to realise that this late night summons had a more sinister ring to it than he first had thought.

Wall scones had been lit around the walls, and Leoff letting his eyes adjust noticed the man standing against the far wall. Even at a distance Leoff could smell the tell tale sickly sweet smell of a Sheeker addict.

‘Begin.’ A disembodied voice said from the viewing gallery before.

Leoff only had just enough time to draw his sword as the addict was upon him. Some gladiators used Sheeker, or sand sugar as it was more widely know so that they could fight through an injury. In the death match arena’s he had seen it used by gladiators to get an edge, it made you faster, stronger….but it was also highly addictive. Sarol had warned him to stay well clear of it, sand sugar use was a sticky slope down hill, you might survive your fight, but then you needed another hit and then again and again until you cant get of bed without a packet of those brown crystalline granules. Leoff didn’t really need warning off the stuff when he had lived in Porth with his sister he had seen a sugar addict, a young woman pitifully thin, with eyes like a dead fishes walk on all fours and bark like a dog for a small pinch of it from a laughing sailor.

Judging by the same dull matt to his opponents eyes the man had a long habit. There was a feverishness to him and a jerk to his movements that told Leoff that he had recently scored a hit. This was a huge problem, a sugar addict on a high wouldn’t feel pain, you could chop off their arm and they would still fight on. It also made them strong, and fast. There was nothing harder than fighting someone with no regard for their own body. Leoff parried and blocked doing his best to avid damage in the situation.

‘Why are you just defending yourself?’ came that disembodied voice from above him. Leoff’s concentration broken for a moment only just managed to dodge the addicts wild thrust.

‘What?!’ He asked angrily daring to glance up at the gallery but he had no time to search out anyone in the shadows before his opponent was upon him again.

‘If he kills you he will get his precious drug, so you had better fight back. This will go on until one of you is dead.’

Leoff side stepped another attack. Somewhere in the back of his mind his brain registered that the voice belonged to a woman. So his suspicions had been right and they had meant to force him to fight the drug addict to the death. Leoff’s mind tried to calculate how long he could wait; if the sugar addict had only just had a hit then he would have this unnatural energy for another half an hour, longer than Leoff could hold out at his rate. But if it was a while ago, the man would soon begin to flag and perhaps he could talk some sense in to him?

A few more minuets in to the fight and Leoff’s opponent still showed no signs of letting up. Leoff was beginning to get tired, his muscles burning with strain, his old would was a star of stabbing pain. Leoff hated to be forced to do anything, especially taking someone’s life, the only person who should be able to choose something so serious was you. It was to be on your soul after all. And so with a furious roar Leoff used his blade in an elegant backhanded slash, severing the addicts head. And then in a gesture of fury he picked up the gory trophy and threw it up in to gallery listening to it bounce and then role to a stop.

Lights were lit as he stood panting. A fight of steps ran down from the gallery to the arena, and deseeding them gracefully was a noble woman the head held by its matted hair in one of her manuicured hands. The woman was mask less her beautiful heart shape face uncovered, she was young probably not much older than his sitter’s twenty one summers, she had soft wavy hair dyed red with henna as was the fashion and soft brown eyes incongruous with the slightly cruel smile on her face. ‘And the knight swore to his queen that he would bring her the heads of all her enemies to lye at her feet in a gesture of his love.’

The woman held the head up higher to consider its face. She then looked at Leoff, ‘Leoff Sheld.’ She said as if tasting the words a true smile braking out across her face. And Leoff had to admit to himself hat she was possibly the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘I am lady Sienna Edouard, your owner.’

‘My owner, but you’re a woman?!’ Leoff was aghast surely it was her husband or her father who owned him not a woman. ‘What could a woman possibly want with a gladiator?’

Her smile turned enigmatic, ‘What in deed?’ she dropped her bloody gift and walked up to the young man. Her gown though volumous also clung to her like a second skin in all the most enticing places, as she walked her hips swayed. Leoff was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable as her eyes seemed undress him. She stopped not an arms length form him, and he could smell her sweet incense coved skin. She gently pinched her bottom lip with thumb and four finger her eyes thoughtful in a coy girlish gesture as if she wondered should I tell him or not. ‘I want a man who will kill for me and me alone.’ She said finally.

‘I’m not a killer.’ Leoff firmly. ‘If you want a killer hire an assassin.’

‘Oh but you are.’ She purred excitedly leaning in closer. ‘I can tell, you have a look in your eyes when you fight like a demon, or a wild beast.’

‘You’re wrong!’

‘I don’t think so.’ She said and her cool hand touched his cheek wiping some of the blood from the severed head upon his cheek. The gentle touch reminded Leoff of his sister. He looked down in to the woman’s deep brown eyes, as brown as soft as a spaniel dispite her words like daggers. ‘Besides you have already killed for me tonight.’

At that he flinched away. ‘You forced me in to it!’

‘So I did.’ She chuckled pleased with her own cleverness. She smiled beguilingly again, ‘That still doesn’t change the fact that you are a killer.’

‘Lady Sienna may I please leave now.’ Leoff wanted to end this tete a tete as soon as possible. He knew from dealing with his sister that you can’t win an argument with a woman who is sure that she is right.The noble woman could think what she liked about him. Sienna laughed in an attractive deep throaty way.

‘Not yet.’ She smiled in a sharkish way. Grabbing hold of his warrior queue the noble woman stole a kiss from the young man’s lips dragging his lips down to meet hers with a firm pull. The kiss was brief but fierce; buy tugging on his hair, Leoff had met the kiss with an open mouth, allowing the red haired woman to plunder his virgin mouth. She pulled back first worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Leoff was left panting wide eyed.

Lady Sienna was deep in lust, watching the young man fight had made her wet, and as the fight drew to a close she could hardly sit still for the ache between her legs. Even though he was sweaty from his fight lady Sienna wanted him, and for him to leave now, well she had decided that would be unacceptable!

The kiss had stunned Leoff and so it was with some shock he noticed a cool breeze against his nether regions as her deft fingers undid the lacing on his soft leather trousers. And before he could move away her hands were in his pants like ferrets on sugar kneading, pulling and tugging his flesh to attention. Only sixteen and never having experienced any touch more intimate than a hug he was completely unprepared and overwhelmed by the sensations that were washing over him. So much so that not only did his knees tremble, but his legs gave out entirely.

Sienna smiled in triumph, it was heady having such a powerful man at her mercy. Her warrior who had just killed a man only moments ago, the blood still wet in the floor and the body cooling in the corner was brought to his knees by just her gentlest touch. Slowly, she pushed his raiment off his shoulders far as she could, which only added to the sense of his imprisonment as it captured his arms by his elbows. When she straddled his waist he knew he was lost.

The brown eyed woman gently ran her hands over the smooth planes of her warrior’s chest, marvelling at its firmness. Then she slipped her fingers down and under his plate armour, moving them up until they rested on his pectorals.

"You don't trust me, do you..." the red haired laughed shaking out her long wavy mane.

‘Of course not you psyco!’ He gasped, as her hands once again found his most sensitive aria, grasping his balls and squeezing her long nails slightly digging in at this insult. His eyes widened as her grip passed from pleasurable in to pain. Like a child with a new plaything, she grasped his hardness firmly, and Leoff finally released a small groan. She experimented with strokes and touches, until sweat was breaking out on the young man’s skin as he desperately tired not to enjoy her ministrations.

Bending down, Sienna began pressing light kisses to Leoff’s skin he tasted of salt, and smelt of what she thought a man should smell like, leather, and metal not of herbal lotions like her husband. Leoff ground his teeth, trying not to moan, but his breathing started to become more erratic. With her firm grip on his balls, he really could do nothing about the situation, who knew what this woman was capable of?

Finally deciding it was time, Sienna moved back and adjusting her gown she guided herself down on to his impressive erection in an easy practiced move. Time stood still for Leoff. He wasn’t sure how he imagined losing his virginity, but this scenario certainly never came up. But dispute the shock and degradation the situation caused his mind his body was reacting as nature intended it to and he swore he would come right there and then, but somehow he held on.

Clamping her hands down on his shoulders, the noble woman began to rock back and forth quickly, marvelling at the reactions she was evoking from both of their bodies. Mouth open wantonly she rode him for all she was worth, already turned on to bursting her orgasm was rapidly imminent. Her nails pierced Leoff’s skin and drew blood as she shudderd her completion. Leoff had only just came heart beets before her, his back arcing up off the blooded sawdust as powerful sensations wracked him. The noble woman slipped of his softening member with a pop. Standing up without a tremor her parting words to him were ‘Sleep well, and dream of me.’

Leoff lay still for a while; looking over at the lifeless body of the sugar addict he closed his eyes. He felt used.

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Two days in to the journey and now further north it was substantially colder. The girl probably choking on some road dust had a small coughing fit. Captain Timor was amused when his lord immediately rode up beside the girl to ask her if she was feeling alright. The girl had answered politely but her tone was most defiantly acid. The engineer wondered how his lord must be feeling as for the first time his undertakings in courtship were thrown back in his teeth and by a mere chit?

The noble in question was growing more and more jelous. With a rosy blush from been outdoors and her hair a wild tussled with eyes the colour of the grassy hill’s of Bre Dae was at her loveliest, but the stuborn girl was still refusing to talk to him, yet she chated away to anyone else.

Darcia had managed to hold himself back from pulling the girl of her horse to check her temperature and listen to her chest when she had started to cough again but it was a physical effort. She was such a tough little thing that he sometimes forgot that it was not actually very long ago since she had been really quite ill. But Lord Darcia found much to his frustration that he couldn’t even get a satisfactory answer from Dae when he asked after her health her answers still at present were only just better than monosyllabic. Although his witch had submitted to wearing the Safora band it obviously chaffed her no end as did his instance that she stayed close the whole time despite it been for his own good. Still angry two days in to the journey Darcia began to wonder why he had bothered to inform her what its significance was, it would have been less hassle if she thought the choker was just a piece of jewellery.

At midday they stopped outside a small market town. People came to gawp at the men and the noble, Daen sat impassively upon Thuharu and watched as children ran up besides them the bravest of them reaching out to touch the passing flanks of the horses and asking multitudes of questions in the rolling burr of Bre. The men were allowed in to the sizeable town ten at a time for half an hour to get lunch and trinkets for there families back home. Daen too decided to explore the market stretching her riding sore limbs.

However she found herself growing more and more annoyed as even though she was able to wander the market as she chose, Darcia was like an ominous shadow following her as she inspected the items the market had for sale. Not that she actually had any money to buy anything but she would be dammed before she asked Darcia for any money, she already owed him her life at least twice, there was no way that she would add money on to that debt.

After a while she managed to ignore his presence and the gawping glances directed to him from the towns folk. Darcia watched her with interest noting the items she lingered over only to discard as they moved on to the next shop. She found a small instrument stall and with nothing better to do she set all the bells ringing before she ran her hands idly over a harp. The vendor looked like he would tell her to stop her absent fiddling when he spotted the dark clad noble standing behind her; a silent guardian to the raucous little bird who was rifling through his wares.

Daen suddenly let out a cry of delight as she drew a wooden flute out of a box of other similar wooden reed instruments. Forgetting that she was still angry with lord Darcia she held her treasure out to him. The flute was beautifully lacquered, upon it were designs of running horses with eagles above them. ‘It’s a Nhemian flute, oh it’s a beautiful one as well, I haven’t seen anything as lovely as this since I was in high rock!’

The masked noble inclined his head in his enviable graceful way, ‘Do you want it?’ he asked softly.

The tone of his voice for some reason made Daen’s heart jump up in to her throat. A horse, a room, clothing all sorts of other things he had given her and yet he offered her this trinket and she suddenly was blushing. Perhaps it was because she had ‘accidently overheard’ Veoine and Timor talking the night before, the conversation had run along the lines of Darcia, herself and courtship. Sneaking back to her room she had scoffed at the idea, there was no way that Lord Darcia was trying to court her. But doubts had surfaced, hadn’t he given he those hairbrushes, but then again he used them to spank her with. There was this necklace which Timor had informed her was probably worth two of Thuharu (the captain could have just been rude about the mare) so on one hand a priceless antique but in the same breath it was also a slave collar. Daen sighed talk about mixed messages.

This flute was different; it was a gift, a real gift with no ulterior motive. Before Dean could answer either way Lord Darcia had handed over a few coins and the flute clasped within her hands was now her very own. She clutched it close as they walked through the crowd and Darcia brought some fresh bread, apples, some cheese and a large bottle of cider. Then he steered Daen to a quiet spot on the stony back of the sluggish meandering river. It took her a while to swallow her pride to thank him.

‘If you play it well then that will be thanks enough.’ He replied passing her the food. ‘Come on you had better eat.’

Daen didn’t need to be told twice and tucked in to a hearty lunch. ‘Aren’t you going to have any?’ she asked when he lay back on his elbow.

The noble shook his head. ‘I’m content just to watch you.’

Daen took a bite out of one of the apples and regarded the reclining man. In the day light and out in nature his mask seemed more surreal. Out of place away from civilisation and once again she found herself longing to see the face beneath the mask. Was he watching her with a smile on his face, or a frown? ‘I’m beginning to think you don’t eat.’ Daen said. He chuckled at this.

‘I’m serious.’ Daen said with very little gravity, ‘I’m beginning to think you just might be a demon!’

'Is that realy how you see me?' He asked his voice a little wavering.

'No!' She snorted. 'Only sometimes.'

‘Here I will drink some cider to prove to you I’m not.’ He answered. And getting up with sinuous grace he broke off a reed to use as a straw. Even so he had to lift his mask a little and Daen’s close scrutiny was rewarded with a glimpse of a strong jaw line and his bobbing Addams apple as he drank. Her lips throbbed for a second as she had a fleeting image of kissing his pale skin. She remembered how soft it had been, not pliant like her own, no more like velvet covered steal. She remembered how his lips had found all the sensitive nerves on her neck, and she had the urge to find out if he was the same… ‘Satisfied?’ Darcia asked unaware of the girl’s inner dialogue assuming that her heighted colour was nothing more than the cider they were sharing.


Darcia once they had returned from lunch sent someone to buy warmer clothes for Dae he was very spesific over each item, and a supply of honey and ginger. Timor looked at his purchases with some interest. ‘For the girl?’

‘Yes, not that it is any of your business captain Brand.’ Darcia replied coolly as Timor smiled at him over his glasses. Darcia smiled behind his mask. ‘You are a terrible meddler.’

As the afternoon progressed one of Bre’s famous showers rained down upon the travellers. The brown haired girl’s cloak had been stored in her bag and she had been soaked through. So when they had halted to water the horses Darcia had given her the new set of clothing intended for later in the journey and told her to get changed. Daen had refused until he had threatened to undress her right in front of the men and change her like an infant. Walking her to a near by coppice of trees he held out his cloak as a make shift screen.

‘I can’t change in front of you!’

‘You are trying my patience Dae, I will avert my eyes..’ Darcia growled, his silver eyes flashing with annoyance.

‘Thank you.’

There was a pregnant pause.

‘Thank you my Lord.’ Daen sighed.

With an audible ‘Hrmph’ the noble then turned his face away to watch his men across the field.

Daen pulled on her new warmer clothing, keeping a wry eye upon him lest Lord Darcia even think of peeking. She had been genuinely surprised that Darcia had brought her a new set of clothing already, more so that it was without her knowledge. There were soft woollen leggings, a fleecy tunic, a fur guilet, brown swade gloves, a fur hat and a pair of the most beautiful brown leather boots lined with sheepskin. Evry item had been one that she had admired at the market. She looked up and he was still diligently avoiding looking at her, although it was grudging she was touched by his concern.

‘Thank you.’ She said. 'For the cloaths.'

Darcia just nodded. ‘We should get a move on else we won’t make the causeway before nightfall.’

They had been heading west since lunch, having left the main road to travel an older route. It was swifter but there were no inns, not that they would be much use with fifty men in tow. Tonight they would sleep under the stars, so Darcia was keen to press on to the western forests where they would be more sheltered form the elements than the rolling hills of Bre. In the distance rose snow capped mountins, with a skirt of dark forist benneth them growing slowly closer. They had been skirting a marsh for about an hour now and the sun was low and heavy in the sky when there was a small road branching off seemingly across the marsh itself. Daen read the sign out loud ‘Pontus.’ It was down this road that the horses turned, knowing the route.

Ahead of her the hoof beets of the horses changed from the dull thud of hoofs on a muddy trail, to the hollow clop of iron on stone. She stood in her stirrups to see what was going on. ‘Are we going through the marsh?’ she asked Darcia who was riding besides her.

‘Over the causeway yes, its quicker.’

‘Oh I see why it’s called Pontus now that means bridge doesn’t it?’

‘It has an older name, a forgotten name to all who cannot read the old texts.’ Darcia said as he drew beside her his voice full of mystery. ‘Shulinaislywn-ayumudallas.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means as above so below, you travel through a holy ‘dream, or space’ neither word is really satisfactory.’ He explained.

Daen wasn’t sure what he meant but as they began to ride two abreast over the ancient black stone causeway the sun now set, above the early evening stars twinkled in greeting, and she noticed that the still water of the marsh reflected the sky like a piece of polished onyx, and so as above was below. With the black stone still wet from the earlier shower it was like they journeyed through a vast sea of stars.

The young woman looked up at the masked face of her dark companion. ‘I understand why they called it that now. It’s like walking through the heavens themselves. Do you think that when they built this they meant it to be like that?’

‘I think they did.’ He answered. ‘It was a holy place to them.’

‘How do you know, did you read it?’

‘Yes, but also on a bright day you can sometimes see the items the ancients have left as offerings in the silt; swords, bowls, all sorts of things.’

‘I would like to see that.’ Daen said wistfully.

‘You shall someday, perhaps when we next pass this way.’

‘And when shall that be?’ she asked curiously.

‘Oh, not until late next summer I would expect.’

They travelled on in the dark the horses knowing the path and marshland gave way to the grate western forest. Some of the men carried torches and now travelling under the canopy of the ancient and tall pine trees Daen thought it was like being in a grate big building. Daen had never seen trees so big or tall she was a little in awe of them, in this forest she felt something old and powerfully, not threatening it simply was and would always be, in the scheme of things Daen realised that she was only a passing sent on the wind, but that was ok with her, hear it didn’t mater who she was, where she came from or where she was going. And she felt her spirit guide echo the same feeling. For Samigina this was home.

a/n; thank's to evryone who has rated an reviwed to date!