Lord of the West

Chapter 5

A/N: I have reedited the hell out of this. Hopefully it is a bit better, and critiques either way is welcome.


First blood


Leoff and his companions had travelled with the Imperial vanguard for a week. They fitted in like grains of sand on a beach. Thought it was not that they had decided to stay in so much as they had been forced to continue with the force least their cover be blown. It was a role they would have to play to the hilt but Leoff a soldier at heart, and Vas a natural actor found this an easy task. Leoff had been appalled by the lack of discipline, and the way that no one had bothered to question Vas's shaky stories. It showed a contemptible lack of competence in Leoff's view. Blake however had told Leoff to shut up and stop his complaining, and that he should just be happy that they had not been caught. For Leoff the familiar routine of being a solder was a temptation even if serving in the Imperial army was not what all that he had expected it to be. They could stay with the army, melting in with the multitude, just more faces in-among hundreds from all over the empire and so they marched with the army and for the time being forgot who they were.

Vas as ever had taken on the role as chief information gatherer not that it was a hard job. Travailing there was little to do in the nights but to talk, and though much conversation revolved around women and the comparison of, there was also a good deal of talk about what they were going to do and where. Leoff listened quietly his brain acuminating the information and coming to his own conclusions. A few of the troops had spent time on the grate north wall and had seen a skirmish or two but for the majority of the men this was to be their first tour duty and none of them realy knew what to expect.

Vas headed back to their tent walking a little hunched over, with a limp, and favoring his one side but he gamely tryed to hide that he had suffered the kind of rough up that he had not experianced since he was a boy back in the Cawmorth. By the gods some of those officers could be nasty bastards! He found Leoff sitting close to a campfire in their adopted tent, his grate claymore resting against his shoulder. Leoff had wraped its guard in leather, for no simple guards men as they were pretending to be would have a sword with a jewel in it's hilt.

"What did you find out?"

"There defiantly none of Lord Edouard's men here." Vas answered.

"Are you sure. If they don't even recognise that we aren't with them then how can we be sure that one of Lord Edouard's men are not like us and hidden amongst them?"

"I went and looked myself." Vas said simply with a slight grin. "I went to the officers tent. No one there that I knew."

"That was foolish Vas, you could have been discovered." Leoff scolded in a low voice. Vas just shrugged.

"It was the only way to be sure."

The young lieutenant sat up and scratched his chin. "Then this attack is on the emperor's orders." He sounded a little defeated, having pined his hope on the Emperor not knowing about the armies movements. If one of lord Edouard's men had been present then it would have been proof that he had a hand in this campaign.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Vas said. "The Emperor still might not really be involved from what I heard he is young and does what his advisors advise him, and hey guess who is his chief advisor, none other than Lord Edouard. From what I have gathered from some of the officers the most that the Emperor has to do with his armies is watch them during his parades."

"I see." Leoff said. "This was a waste of time then."

"I would not say that." Vas said comfortingly. Leoff said nothing but fell to brooding until Vas asked. "What's wrong?"

"They are probably going to their deaths and there is nothing that we can do about it."

"And I thought that we were trying to help your sister."

"I am. But who do you think stands a better chance? Lord Darcia's army or these lot? They seem to think they will be fighting unarmed Cydrus and not knights. You remember what it was like in Marchadia, they aren't just solders Lord Darcia's men are warriors, they fight for a living it makes a difference. I just hope they are clever enough to run when they face him."

"We could stay." Vas offered though he did not much fancy going back to Marchadia. "Help them."

Leoff looked thoughtful, perhaps even a little hopeful but then he shook his head. No but I wish we could stop them." The younger man admitted.

"We will, perhaps if we go to the imperial city we can talk to the Emperor and stop this."

"You do know that it is impossible to see the Emperor is you are a commoner." Leoff pointed out.

"Where there is a will there is a way old boy." Vas soothed. He smiled, his teeth bright in the darkness. "We will need new disguises, you can be a Nhaminan noble Blake and I can be your servants."

"Me a noble." Leoff chuckled at the ridiculous proposal. "I don't think that Nhemians even keep servants."

"Companions then."

"No Nhemian would have Clodden as a companion."

"None but you." Vas smiled.

Leoff laughed, and then shook his head. "I'm no Nhemian." He sighed and lay down as if to sleep. "We are going to get out of here tomorrow, you know fall behind on the walk and slip off in to the bushes." Leoff said trying to change the subject.” Besides I don't fancy falling back in to Lord Darcia's clutches again, I wouldn't do that to Daen again. "After seeing this lot, you know with the size of Lord Dracia's army if he felt like it he could take on the Imperial army and with some support he could win. Not just on his own grounds but he could march on the Imperial city itself. If I was the emperor I would be afraid of him."

Vas gave a mock shudder and laughed at that. "Just what we need, mountain barbarians running amok in the Midlands!" Leoff was right of course the further from the Marchadian border they were the safer they would be. The Duke of Marchadia was not the kind of man to make mistakes twice. Vas in amongst his investigations had been picking up many of stories about the Duke. They were the kind of stories that men told each other around campfires, stories of heroes and monsters though it was hard to put the dark duke in either of the categories.

The stories were the kind to terrify and impress, but Vas had seen the duke and what he heard had enough of the truth about them to turn his bowls to ice. Some of the stories were dismissible like the one of the Duke's remarkable escape when he fell in to the hands of his enemies of the young man. No one survived save the Duke or so the story went, and the bodies were said to be terribly mutilated, as if a beast had gored itself upon them. "The Duke of Marchadia is a demon some say." Vas did not agree with this theory. The Duke need not be a supernatural monster to be terrifying, and Vas sided with the men who said that Lord Darcia was a man not to underestimate or provoke lightly. Stories of this nature ranged from the Duke early in his reign when faced with the raids on his lands had Meiw raiders that they captured placed on spikes on the mountain sides as a dire warning to outer raiders. There were stories about the nobles who had betrayed him during his accession and were hunted down and hung from trees at crossroads. Vas realised just how close they had come to utter disaster back in Marchadia. And he comprehended Leoff's concern; these Imperial soldiers had no idea as to what they were going in to. Not perhaps lambs for the slaughter, but they would find it no easy task defeating the Dark Duke of Marchadia. Vas could not help but be thankful that they would have nothing to do with it. Let another minstrel write the story of that battle for I want none of it should it come to pass he had thought.

Leoff (who Vas had thought was asleep) spoke softly asking a question that Vas had hoped he would not ask. "Vas are you going to tell me who did it or were you hoping that you don't get a shiner?"

"I …." Vas stuttered.

Leoff’s voice was mater of fact and brooked no arguments. "Vas I know you're going to have a bruise about your eye, and since there aren't many door handles about here I want to know who did it."

"But it's dark there is no way you could see!" Vas said.

"I felt it somehow." Leoff said. "I'm not sure how I think it has to do with the sword. So who was it?"

"A few of the young officers, apparently I was asking impertinent questions."

"The ones from the capital." Leoff asked, knowing exactly who they were. Vas nodded. Five young bucks who thought that they were the be and end all just because they were in regimentals and knew how to swing a sword and cut a melon in half. Young men who wanted to prove that they were fire eaters. Leoff had expected this kind of trouble for some time; such was the way of men. Many of this army had not fought together, power balances shifted and new peaking orders had to be fought out. Leoff had so far avoided conflict being a large man who smiled little few sought to trifle with him and those who had thought about it they soon were put off watching the young man whiled his claymore with expertise. Vas it would seem was not so lucky. Leoff knew that Vas was no kitten, so that meant that Vas had simply taken the beating or he had been out numbed either way it rubbed Leoff the wrong way. "Lets see the damage."

Vas lifted his shirt, and Leoff lit a candle. Vas's chest was black and blue. Leoff didn't touch him but studied each bruise with an expert eye; someone had given him a good kicking as well as a beating by the looks of it. Vas's obsidian eyes avoided Leoff's embarrassed. Without a word he got up to go. Vas tried to get up after him but winced and Leoff pushed him back down. “Where are you going?”

“To find you some painkillers.”

He left Vas open mouthed and a little mortified for having accused his closest friend of he was not sure what, going to pick a fight? Vas knew it was not like Leoff to pick fights. But Vas still could not shake the uneasy feeling that there was something in Leoff that the young man was not entirely in control of, some ruthless resolve that was a part of him, a part of him that was drawn out in to the light by his a-cursed sword. Danger, that was what had drawn Vas to him at the first place, Leoff oozed danger, like some caged wild animal. He hadn’t been imagining the red glint in the younger man’s eyes. The dark haired man suddenly felt a little guilty at the thrill that the thought of Leoff kicking the shit out of those men brought him. Leoff returned after a little while and handed him a small bottle. "It's pain killer your going to need it." Vas thanked him, a little embarrassed by his earlier outburst. Vas sighed, he hoped that Leoff didn't go and do something stupid.

Vas soon realised that he had not thanked Leoff nearly enough, the herbal concoction had opiates in and it was possibly the most arse kicking painkillers available and soon not only did Vas not feel his catalogue of aches and pains, but he didn’t care about them either, wrapped in bliss soon he fell in to a heavy stupefied sleep.

At some point he stirred and woke, Leoff was looking down at him dressed with Loke slung across his back. “Where are you going?” Vas asked drowsily.

"You’re better off out of this."

"It's not your fight." Vas protested not entirely sure why it was so important he stop Leoff. If only he could think straight.

"It's every man's fight."

Vas had staggered out of the tent and moving gingerly tried to find his friend but the darkness had swallowed him. After a while he grew cold and when there was no disturbance Vas went back to the tent, perhaps Leoff was just thinking. Vas had promised himself to stay awake until Leoff came back but he found that the drugs and his own bodies demands dragged him back down again. It was still dark when Leoff returned. He shook the stiff and aching Vas awake. "We have to go right now."

Vas didn't bother arguing, he knew that tone it meant no questions, just do. he would follow Leoff to the ends of the world and further the painkillers making his mind fuzzy like a dream. Blake who hated early mornings complained enough for both of them, and Vas could not find the energy to use his voice.

From the second of his waking the burn on his arm that he had received from Loeff's sword had itched incessantly. He scratched at it but the second that he touched the scar he felt something strange – Anger, Fear, Bloodlust. - He snatched his hand away and looked down at his arm as if it's was suddenly a foreign thing. After a while the burning itch went out of the scar and Vas was left simply confused. He had heard that opiates could make you itch. The night moved in strange fever like jumps. It was not until dawn finally broke and he looked up from the road that he noticed that Leoff's hands were covered in blood. He didn't say anything and when they stopped in a village the blood was gone. But perhaps Vas had imagined it in the first place.

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Daen heard an urgent knock at the door and she sighed. She was dressed for riding, hoping to slip out of the palace before anyone thought to stop her. Lord Darcia might be over protective but his servants were far worse. Darcia made her furious with his cool assumption that he would do as she wished because it was what he thought was best for her but that she could get angry over, she could argue with him or simply flaunt his authority. It was one of Daen's little pleasures in life to ware or do things that brought that slightly pained look on to her Dark Lord's face. His retainers, Timor included fretted over her, and she felt so dreadfully guilty for being disobliging towards them when they meant well. All the little things that she liked to bug Darcia with, waring boy's cloaths, trapsing about the garden bare footed all of these things the courtiers begged and pleaded with her not to do, and Daen found herself curbing her naughtyness for theire sakes.

They would not even let her ride out on her own like she had done before. "Oh My Lady you must not what if there are enemies in the woods?" In responce Daen capitulated to riding with a small body guard of armed men. However when she went to set off Lady Penn had scurried up to her and pleaded with her to think of propriety.

"It's not right for a pretty unmarried woman such as you to go out riding all alone with those men! What would Lord Darcia think?!" Daen would not have been moved by such an entreaty but when Lady Penn looked set to cry she relented and agreed to a chaperone as well. The acceptable chaperone that Lady Penn had in mind was in fact a whole gaggle of court women, "Women of breeding." Lady Penn had informed her triumphantly. And so to protect so many women more armed men had to ride out with them to protect the larger group. And so Daen could not just pop out for a ride, it had to be organised like some military organisation. Though at least the soldiers were on time, the court ladies took hours to get ready.

However riding was not the only thing that the well meaning courtiers interfered with. Daen could not spend time alone with the Captain Brand or any other man without a chaperone of some kind present, even when she was tending the wounded that streamed in from the south she could not forgo the interfering presence.

"Come in." She called reluctantly expecting a scolding from Lady Penn, however the unwelcome caller was not Lady Penn as she had feared, instead it was the Steward. "Hello." She greeted with some surprise.

"My lady." He made a stiff bow to her. The grizzled old veteran stood solemnly and delivered his peculiar message with gravity. "There are monks – head flowers growing in the grate eastern field and some of the watch men have fallen in to prophesy."

Daen was hard pressed not to laugh. It was strange how the warriors of Marchadia, big burly men were by far the most superstitious of the mountain folk. "Surely you should be telling this to Captain Brand or Captain Vespa?"

"I could not find Captain Vespa, and Captain Brand I am sorry to say this is an Imperial and so would not understand."

"But I am foreign as well."

"Yes but you are different, your not Imperial and you are a sybilla and so you will know all about portents and visions." The grey bearded steward announced mater of factly. "More personally My Lady we all think, the men that you are a prime rib!"

"Well I am honoured to be sure." Daen said much moved by this pronouncement. "I suppose I can try to help." Daen came with the steward a distinguished stocky old campaigner named Anderson who in his youth had been a knight under Lord Darcia's father and had risen up through the court ranks under his son accompanied her to the watch barracks. As they ascended the stairs Daen could hear the raised voices of the men who were very disturbed. Some were agreeing with those who saw danger in the sinister blooms and in their opinion and others who thought the blue flowers innocuous.

Remembering how Lord Darcia could quell his men with just a word she hoped that under his aegis that she might command the same kind of respect. She did not shout when she came in, she walked in to this world of men quite calmly. She let out a little cough a gloved hand to her mouth. "Ahem."

The men surprised to hear a female voice stopped their argument and turned towards the door to see the trim little woman, her auburn brown hair in a glossy fall over her shoulders and over her one eye, the skirt of her riding habit over her arm, totally composed. She had a straight little nose, a somewhat wilful set to her chin, and a mouth that was curved with irrepressible good humour. Vivid emerald eyes took in the scene before her with all the coolness of her Lord's. "M'Lady how can we help you?!"

"I'm sorry but I was wondering what the importance of those flowers are?" The men hesitated, but one braver than the rest explained that there was an old tradition stating that if Monks-head flowers should ever bloom in the fields it told you that an enemy was near, and warned of the direction they were coming from. The Steward had shown Daen the unusual blooms from the city walls. Monks-head he had explained more commonly grew higher up in the mountains. Daen had looked over the meadow and the carpet of blue that had appeared over night. "And so by that reasoning an army of a thousand is coming from the east?"

"That was what we were debating my lady."

Daen's brows frowned briefly; she rubbed her chin in thought and then turned to the Steward. "Is the east border watched?"

"Yes My Lady, there are forts on the East and border castles too."

"Then if something is coming then we shall know about it." Daen announced. "As it is we are if I remember rightly still at war and so you should all be alert. You are right in that we are surrounded by enemies, but we don't need flowers to tell us that. The answer to me seems to be that rather than panicking you would have been better off agreeing on more vigilance and that way should an army appear on the horizon then we will be ready. There will be extra men on watch from now on do you understand?"

"Well you hear her look sharp men!" The Steward barked.

"Yes My Lady!" Came the salute of their voices. The steward nodded to himself the sybilla had done well, she had not dismissed the superstitious men's concerns out of hand buy taking preventive action, but nether had she alienated those who were not concerned by omens by making it a matter of general policy.

"Good." She nodded to them. "Now I would like to take my morning ride. I think that we should take an excursion east Sir Anderson where is the nearest watch post?"

"Well if you would want to get a good view to the east then the view from mount Cyndau is unbeatable."

"That is where the burial mounds of Lord Darcia's ancestors are situated are they not?"

"They are. But the watch tower is further on up."

"I have long wanted to see them. We ride that way then." Daen answered. "I need an escort; eight men."

"My lady the other ladies will find a ride up in to the mountains very arduous. And you would need more men to protect them." One of the men ventured politely.

"I suspect it will be hard on them. Perhaps it will be best if they don't accompany us." Daen then went out with a sweep of skirts and a twinkle in her eyes to tack up her own horse.

"A rare tongue lashing she gave us." Remarked one of the chosen eight as he picked up his armour.

"It's the red in her coat." Another shrugged, "Red hairs are like that, all fire and spirit."

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Those who had headed the warnings of the Monks-head flowers felt themselves to be validated when a messenger galloped up to the plaice in a suitably dramatic manner not a week later. He had leapt from his horse and requested to be brought before the steward and the captains immediately. The guard on duty ushered the messenger to see Lady Daen who trying to avoid her courtiers was in a secluded weapons court attempting to teach the orphan girl Cira archery as a means to defend herself. Avis sat at the side watching who Cira's little brother upon her lap gurgling merrily and trying to catch Avis's necklace. It was not going very well as Cira was not really strong enough to pull even the smallest of bows back and she turned her doleful blue eyes upon her unofficial guardian in rebuke and Daen was just about to give up when she saw someone approaching.

The messenger was surprised to have been brought in front of a young woman. He thought at a distance that she was Captain Vespa but when he grew closer he realised that it was not she was far too young. And dressed in ordinary clothes she did not look particularly mystical either.

"I need to speak to a captain not a lady I said it was urgent!" The messenger protested to the guard.

"Impudent whelp, don't you know who you are talking to, this is the Sybilla!" The guard announced and cuffed the youth's ear. The young man still looked unconvinced. "Don't mind him M'Lady he was not caught young enough to tame."

Daen had watched them approaching and leaned against her bow. Cira still nervous around strangers hid behind her skirts. "Message from Lord Darcia?" She asked.

"From the watch at Morview M'lady on the East border." The messenger said and passed the missive over to the young woman who read the unfamiliar script. Timor and the Steward who had heard of the messenger's arrival now appeared on the weapons courts.

"What is it Daen."

"Grave news from the east." Daen answered still pursuing the message, though her expression did not betray her emotions or thoughts in the slightest. Her brows were furrowed as they always did when she was concentring. The same stern look she had when she shot her bow Avis observed. "It seems that some three or four hundred Imperial troops crossed the border, they are only thirty miles from here. They have marched along the grate trade road between the Marsh and the woods it looks like they intend to attack us while our Lord is away. "

"Four hundred, that's laughable. There were over ten thousand when the last emperor tried to take Bala and he didn't even make a dent in the defences." The Steward said with no little pride. "There is nothing to worry about we are perfectly safe here even if there is a siege we can hold for months, years even."

"But what of the settlements between us and them?" Daen said. "Someone needs to warn them, and we should strengthen the Burr towns and watch towers garrisons."

"What and weaken our own defences?" Timor answered. "We don't have the men, Lord Darcia has left us with only a skeleton guard here, the rest have gone to the south the only men here are old, untried, untrained or wounded. We shall send messages of course warning everyone of the army and welcome them here that is what we have always done. Besides there is not one really important settlement between the Marsh road and Bala this far north, all there is are wood cutters hamlets in the forest."

"There are villages."

"Small Villages Daen. Not worth the Imperial army troubling over. They will be heading here hoping that while Lord Darcia is away that his defences will be week."

They argued over what to do for a while Daen favouring action over defence but they overruled her. Daen made her way to the map room, seething, they were happy to use her when it suited them as some kind of figure head but then they did not respect her opinion dismissing her as just a girl. Daen wondered if they were right, what did she know of war after all? However Daen just could not leave it alone she had a bad feeling about this, some motive they were missing and some how she was going to prove it to them.

She had gone to look at the Monks-head flowers which were causing such a grate stir. She picked one of the hooded blue purple flowers and felt a strange pull, like fate, "Danger, danger but not here." Samagina the spirit in her ring said.

"Then where?"

Her spirit had no answer for her. In her native tongue the flower was called wolf's bane, to ware it was to be protected from harm. She had pinned it to her lapel.

The young woman was pursuing a map of the eastern border, marking all the possible routs that the Imperial army might chose to take baring in mind that they would have to travel close to a water course. "I'm missing something." She thought as she leaned over the map a petal of the blue flower fell and landed on the map. Daen went to brushed it away revealing a small lake marked upon the map. There were many lakes in Marchadia, it was known as the land of the falling lakes after all but something caught her attention. There was a small island right in the centre of this lake. Daen recognised it's name, they had spent an night upon its shore while Lord Darcia visited his mother, and it was right in the marching line of the Imperial army. "Not danger from the east, danger in the East."

"Where is everyone?" Came the lash of a voice as Captain Vespa made herself known.

“How should I know?” Daen shrugged, "There is no point in talking to Timor anyway he is determined that there is nothing that we can do here but see to our own defences and await orders from Lord Darcia." Daen said with disgust.

"He would." Vespa replied scathingly. "Timor was always timid believes more in walls then the strength of arms. So has nothing been done?!"

"That was what we are here to discuss Vespa." Timor interrupted calmly as he appeared on the threshold. "Lady Daen." He greeted her with some surprise the Steward however had the decency to look guilty as they men had been intending to meet and discuss the defences of Bala without the volatile little sybilla's presence. Timor had not seen a problem in Daen presence, though it didn’t mean he was going to listen to her, and he thought that perhaps a war council was something she was better off left out of since it was out of her experience, and when the Steward had insisted he had agreed to meet without her. The steward was perhaps wiser than he knew for though she might not command the same instant obedience as Lord Darcia, but she was a woman who got her own way eventually. A head strong filly, as Veione had once pointed out, one who had only ever been guided by Lord Darcia's strong hand.

Daen knew full well the men had intended to make plans without her. As far as they were concerned she was just something to protect and use but arguing now would not help her cause. Calmly she pointed to the map. "Look." The men did so but remained unenlightened. "This is where Lord Darcia's mother resides in a nunnery."

"So it is." Timor said struck by that.

"The dowager is still alive?" Vespa asked incredulously.

"Yes, she survived. And Lord Darcia had her brought to that place of sanctuary to live among the priestesses in strictest secrecy."

"The Imperial army will be right upon it in a day or so." Daen said her fingers walking over the map measuring the distance. "I think they mean to kidnap her an bargaining piece against Lord Darcia."

Timor ever the voice of reason considered the matter. "I don't think that we should panic. The location of Lord Darcia's mother is one of his best kept secrets. Only a handful of people know. Most people have assumed her dead for many years as Captain Vespa and Sergeant Anderson have proven."

"But someone could know." Daen interjected.

"It is possible." Timor ventured. "But they won’t attack a nunnery, no one would do that."

"We need to rescue her before they get hold of her."

"We can not afford the men M'lady. If they march on Bala we will need every hand to hold until Lord Darcia comes."

"I will go." Daen declared.

"You will not!" Timor ejaculated, " Lord Darcia would have a hernia if you put yourself in unnecessary again."

"And what if Lord Darcia's mother is captured?" Daen asked. "What do you think will happen then?"

"And what if you get captured Daen?" Timor replied swiftly. "What then? You have any idea how dangerous Lord Darcia can be! Who knows what he would do if you were threatened?" His face softened. "Daen what do you know of battle, you have been a grate help but you should let us get on with our jobs. We will send a messengers bird to the temple and warn them to hide the dowager."

"Your right." Daen conceded. "You will have to excuse me I have palace matters to tend to."

Captain Vespa's having left the stifling meeting was greeted by the small blond girl whom the sybilla kept about her. The mute child pressed a note in to her hand and then ran off down the corridor. The Captain read through the missive and her face broke out in to an dangerous smile.

When Captain Vespa came down in to the stables she found not only her men ready to ride out but also ten or so of palace guard. Ready to ride and Lady Daen standing and holding not only Vespa's horse but her own dressed ready to travel. Each of the men had a blue flower pinned to their breast. Vespa took the rains from the young woman looking over the sensible leather leggings, long boots and the padded jerkin that Daen wore. Daen raised her eye brows as the captain's appraisal. "Well?"

"I won't slow down for you." Vespa said simply.

"I would not expect you to. My eye's are keen in the dark, I can help. " Daen answered curtly. "Besides if Lord Darcia has it in his mind that I am to be his duchess perhaps I better start acting like one. From what I understand the women of the mountains have always defended there homes with spears and sword."

"No noble lady I know would ride out at a head of men."

"I'm no noble lady."

Vespa nodded and they had an understanding. She pulled out a map to demonstrate her proposed route with a dagger. "We will head north towards the Arrowhead Mountains but we leave the road hear and then travel through Narrow gorge then up this ridge and that should lead us to the lake. Narrow gorge is a hard ride, it's narrow, steep, streams cut the trail, and it is stony in some places. It's challenging in day light, but at night this is going to be a real test. Let’s just hope that the Imperial troops won't be watching to the north, if they are then hopefully the trees will hide us."

Some of her men looked a little more nervous, the excitement they had been feeling was now tinged with the edge of fear as there were not many trails that Vespa considered challenging let alone a real test. Vespa took her rains from the young woman and gave the order to mount up. Daen accepted a leg up from one of the men who had offered to follow her. A burly old guards man chucked her up on to Thuharu who sprang away as soon as she touched the saddle. The rest of the guard's men leapt on their own mounts and followed the two women who lead.

They were checked at the gate by one of Sergeant Anderson's men. "There are to be no excursions."

"This is not an excursion but a pleasure ride." Daen answered with a smile.

"This close to dark, with so many men, and dressed in battle harness?" The man challenged her still baring the town gate. Captain Vespa was just about ready to bite the man's head off but Daen intervened smoothly.

"We aren’t going far, just to the Kerns to pray for protection. And you should know I always travel with an armed escort these days, the armour is just a precaution we will be back before dark."

"Where are the ladies to escort you?"

"Captain Vespa had kindly agreed to accompany me."

The man stood aside, abed reluctantly. And let the small cavalcade pass. The sybilla waved her hand merrily at him. Later when Sergeant Anderson took him to task over letting the women go when he must have seen it was a farce he answered. "Would you have me accuse a Captain of Lord Darcia's guard and his Sybilla of lying?" The Sergeant was left aghast and grumbling over the wiely ways of women.


The ride would be a question of endurance and speed, they had twenty miles to cover across county and the sun was setting to their backs. They travelled light at a scouts pace, that was to say fast. The high road was easy going, a light drizzle had began to fall, a promise of worse whether to come but the riders now free and on the open rode only put their hoods up and reviled in the adventure.

Darkness fell swiftly in the shadow of the mountains and soon they were cloaked in the deep folds of the night. The stars were out and shone brightly in the clear patches of sky. The moon was shrouded by clouds that passed as swiftly as they did, shadows racing in the wind. The road shone silver as the wet surface reflected the moon's nocturnal rays. Shod hoofs rang out on the road, as they cantered through the night leaning high up their horse's necks. The few other travellers on the road moved aside when they heard the sound of hoofs on the road, and the jangle of battle harness. Daen had worried that her spirited chestnut mare would fight her thinking it was a race, however the small horse settled in to a comfortable canter and seemed happy to stay beside Vespa's mount.

They paused briefly at a wayside village letting their sweating mounts draw breath and to take some hasty supper before then heading off the main road on to narrower tracks that lead up in to the grate western woods the trees blocking out much of the light or casting strange shadows. Daen's sight was keen in the dark, her hunter's eyes as Leoff had often teased her now was proving an advantage as she lead the cavalcade picking out the trail that Vespa directed her to as surely as if it were daylight. The scout Captain used her own sword's gifts to aid her sight and the women lead where the men feared to go.

The trail wound upwards towards ridge and they would then follow the ride down its steepest side to where the Lake was situated like water cupped in the hollow of a hand. They were approaching it from the steepest side. It was a difficult path a rushing mountain river was eating at the banks of what would have once been a road. Daen was surprised by how straight it must have once ran, a ruminant of an forgotten time and she wondered where it went and who had built it. However her mind was soon called back to the task at hand and the road as it was and not how it once had been for it had been eaten away by water and tree roots that broke it's surface. On occasion they had to jump over fallen logs hoping that the landing was safe. It was a wild ride and Daen felt curiously fey. Some how divorced from herself, and for a while she concentrated on nothing but her horse and the way that the pale moon light seemed to make the world around her glow, she was fearless.

As they climbed upwards the horses began to flag and rather than a race it became more a question of finding ways to nurse their horses on. It was at this point that Daen knew you could tell what kind of mount you had beneath you. Thuharu was still willing, she was tired but Daen knew if she asked her the small horse would find more speed from somewhere if Daen had but asked. Vespa's mount too still held its head high and trotted along gamely. At last below them they saw the glint of light off water between the trees as fat moon shone down upon them. They drew rain for a while letting the horses take a brief rest before the decent.


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Dark blue eyes looked out over a still lake; they were so intense in colour that in most lights they looked black. Lady Cyrus was surrounded by water, calm peaceful water that separated her from the currents of the world. If she closed her eyes sometimes all she herd was the gentle shush of wind through the reads on the island banks and the creek and shiver of wind through the gardens sweeping willows. Sometimes she could still here the whisperings of spirits, lost souls, sometimes there voices were so numerous that she was pushed her out of her very own mind, but today was not one of those days. Today she was alone with her thoughts.

Lady Cyrus loved to garden, her hands deep in the soil, watching things grow that she had planted it brought her peace and pleasure, though it never made up for the grate emptiness she felt losing her husband and having to leave her son's life, leaving him to the mercy's of fate. She had left him at the wolf's door step to protect him. It was something that she had never forgiven herself for through he bore her no ill will. He had survived, grown and thrived. So like his father, brave, strong, clever, domineering and lonely.

The dowager turned her attention back to her herbatious border when she noticed something out of place. A blue flower, Monks-head. "Curious," she thought aloud, for Monks-head usually only grew on the cool mountain pastures. She looked up and over the lake, and above the grate western woods towards the east she saw some columns of smoke rising in to the air, camp fires. "More curious."

"My Lady what have you been looking at these last moments?" asked one of the priestesses who had entered the guarded with a basket and shears in on her arm.

"Oh just some smoke rising over there." The Lady pointed towards the east.

The priestess raised her hand to shade her eyes and squinted. "I wonder what that can be. Perhaps a group of merchants? That would be nice wouldn't it dear, we have been running low on tea."

"I should write to my son about that but he is so busy that the moment."

"Oh Lord Darcia always sends the nicest teas, like that one with the rose petals in. And those spices to!"

"He is very kind isn’t he. Such a good son."

The smoke was thus summarily ignored as the women fell to discussing more domestic matters and the day progressed in its usual sedate and predictable manner. Yet Lady Cyrus could not shake the faint sense of unease away, the feeling of impending danger that had her glancing often in an easterly direction her eyes scanning the horizon. When midnight came she was not asleep and she was the first to hear the sound of raised voices cutting across the clear still night. Wrapped up in a shawl and with her night cap upon her head she came out in to the cold night air to see exactly what was going on to disturb the peace of the nunnery.

A light bobbed up and down drawing closer from the western bank, as a rowing boat cut its way across the lake. The nuns and Lady Cyrus drifted to the small jetty to meet them. The boat was rowed by two solders baring the Darcian insignia; They would not be allowed to get out of the craft for the only two men granted access to this little island of women were Lord Darcia and the Emperor. However much to the surprise and initial horror of the priestess’s two cloaked figured climbed on to the jetty. But before an outcry could go around the visitors turned their hoods back and revealed two young women so alike to look at they could have passed for sisters.

"Greetings sisters, we need to find the dowager duchess immediately for she is in grave danger!"

"I am who you seek." Lady Cyrus answered.

The elder woman short sword but it had been the younger who spoke now in a voice that was faintly accented, and the turn to her words not quiet correct though she obviously had a good grasp of the Chade language. "There is an Imperial army coming. We think that they are will try to capture you My Lady."

Lady Cyrus's face twisted in surprise. "Capture me? What ever for?"

The youngest woman met her glance unflinchingly, her green eyes bold. "As a hostage to use against Lord Darcia My lady." The dowager was stricken. She had hidden away from politics for years, she had thought that she had passed in to obscurity but apparently it was not so.

"Are you sure that they are imperial troops?"

"Yes saw them with my own eyes three hundred Imperial knights and they have reached the river crossing at Marshveiw. We galloped all the way here but they won't be far away!" The elder woman answered.

"They would not dare step foot on this holy place!" One of the nuns declared. "The Lady is safe here."

"The emperor no longer respects the old gods." The younger woman said softly.

"Has the emperor forgotten his oath!" Lady Cyrus said with surprising steal, "He signed the charter. I was there, I saw it. The Emperor was never to invade the Marchadian's again, not without good reason!"

The nuns seemed nervous at seeing the quiet lady suddenly transformed with affronted fury, but the young women seemed only relieved. "I'm sorry we don't know My lady. All we know is that we have to take you somewhere safe."

"Oh I am so cross. If I see my nephew I will box his ears!"

The younger woman's green eyes lit at this and she laughed at that. "Boxing the emperor's ears now that is something I would like to see.” The dowager detected a faint pull from the girl, a lure, subtle like a pleasant perfume, she probably didn’t even know she was doing it, but the younger woman was defiantly sending out her will, pleading with them to trust her and come with them. It was the same sort of power that her son could weald.

"My Lady we really have to move." The elder of the two indicted and as she said this there could be heard across the lake the sound of marching feat and the clank of armour and the dowager found herself born off willy-nilly by the Priestesses and the two young women, and bundled in to a rowing boat to be ferried across to the western shore and the small hamlet there. They were met by a small group of knights with the black raven upon red emblazoned upon their chests.

As Lady Cyrus was being handed up in to the travailing carriage another soldier galloped up on a foaming horse. "Captain Vespa, they have reached the main road."

The elder woman cursed, and then begged forgiveness for her language in front of the dowager.

"Are they so close already?" The younger woman said with concern.

"We could chance getting to Bala, but with this coach and the horses so tired. My Lady could you ride?"

"Certainly not!" The dowager sniffed, "I have not ridden a horse in years, and my companions have not ridden in their life’s. We shall go to Rhayd."

"Rhayd?"

"Yes Rahyd, the town is well fortified. My husband had the keep rebuilt in his life time. We shall go there it is only four miles north east from here. I shall then write a letter to my son." The dowager said her hands folded neatly on her lap, her face calm.

Daen had been somewhat relieved by this pronouncement, having realised as they descended that the Imperial troops had advanced swifter then they had foreseen they all feared capture. Dean was beginning to think that Timor had been right and that this was a fool's errand as with tired horses they would never outrun the Imperial troops.

So far they had left two Imperil scouts dead, and Daen had learned that in the moon light blood looked quite black. The scouts had been captured by some of Vespa's scouts and their throats cut with efficiency. Daen had been shaken by the cold way in which this had been done but did not show it. She had chosen to make herself responsible for this venture after all.” This aria will be crawling with them soon." Capatin Vespa had hissed. Daen had felt her heart sink knowing how close at hand the enemy was, but to late to turn back they had boarded the small boat to go fetch the Dowager though probably only to bring her in to more danger. A woman who's reputation was of frailty and eccentricity Daen had expected an invalid, but Lady Cyrus although somewhat resembling a bird was not an invalid. The small woman sat with surprising composure given the circumstances and ordered the men with casual ease. Lady Cyrus might not have been in the political world for a very long time but she was fast remembering what was expected of her. The most important thing was that she should be not captured.

"Rhayd it is then. My lady I am sorry but this might be a bumpy ride but we must hurry."

"Onwards!" Lady Cyrus said simply. Vespa shrugged and waved the party forward. The rain that had been threatening since late afternoon now began to fall in a torrential downpour. They travailed along at a good pace until the carriage wheel finding a deep rut on the unkempt road became bogged down and stopped with a terrible lurch. The men put their backs in to moving it only to have it get stuck again not two hundred meters down the road but at least the lights of Rhayd could now be seen twinkling like a star between the trees.

Daen who had dismounted to lend what help she could to the extraction of the carriage by lending her slight weight to an improvised leaver turned at the sound of jangling metal. The rest of the men also paused to listen. Lady Cyrus looked out of the window. "What is it?"

"I think that they have caught up with us." Daen answered her green eyes scanning the gloom.

"What should we do?" One of the men asked.

Daen looked for Vespa but then remembered that she had gone with a few of her men to keep an eye out for more scouts ahead and to check that Rhayd was as safe a place as they hoped. During a rebellion one could not be too careful. Daen realised that everyone was waiting for her to come up with a decision. It would be a life or death decision she realised and not just for herself but for all these men, Lord Darcia's mother, and the priestesses as well. She could hardly keep herself alive by her own decisions. Oh Timor had been right she should have stayed back in Bala!

One of Vespa's men who had been watching there rear now galloped up. "Forty of their advanced troop, heavy knights. They ride hard after us." He panted. "What should we do…run …or fight."

Daen shook herself out of her apathy and remembered an old Nhemian saying. "Even if there is nothing that can be done there is always the next thing to do." She looked at the carriage; perhaps the priestesses could ride double. She then dismissed this as a stupid idea, they were mostly old, many had never even ridden a horse, and the horses were tired. "We will do both if it comes to it, but I think run." Daen said finally. "We must get this carriage out until then the rest of you will have to hold them off as best you can."

She ordered that rope be tied to another six horses to help draw the carriage out of the sinking mud the rest of the men dismounted and leant their backs to the task. "Heave!" they called. Sweat running down their backs as they pushed, their faces contorted with strain, groaning just as the wooden carriage did, even Daen who shouldered the weight with the rest of them her teeth born in a snarl. The dark mountain horses strained and tried to leap forward in their collars roiling the carriage foreword and back but still it stayed stuck.

"Heave!" Daen called again as the sound of mental on metal grew ever closer lending a renewed desperate energy to their tired limbs.

The sound of heavy horses, and the clatter of armour only grew louder until the very ground shook with it. Daen refused to look around least she lose heart, instead she put all her strength in to moving that damnable carriage.

Some of the men started forward, and Daen looked around just as the men collided with some of the Imperil knights just as they came in to view. Her knights fought hand to hand with them using all of their weapons against the Imperial men, shields to knock them off their horses, axes to cleave helms, swords to pierce through gaps in the Imperial plate. The heavily wooded area made a perfect bottle neck where the imperial troops numbers meant nothing. Daen's heart was beeting like a rabbits, both teriffied and exited by the struggle playing out in front of her. She was left wide eyed and wondering at how men, who she knew were good from the months she had spent with them, who had children, wifes, who laughed, who fretted over her could fight so savagly. The Imperial troops were pushed back by the Marchadian's ferosity, thier brutal atacks that spared neither man nor mount.


Daen clambered up on to the carriage roof and drew out her bow to lend her aid to the few scouts who had clambered in to the trees and were raining down death from above. From the floor she would have been likely to hit friend as well as foe in the shifting mealey. Now up above the action she trusted her aim and let lose arrows aiming for the eye slits of the Imperil Knights, for she refused to kill their horses. she drew her bow and aimed, her hands felt curiously numb. Her first shot did not hit it's target nor the second. Daen stilled herself, concentrate she reprimanded herself closing her eyes for a second before opening them again. She drew in a lungful of air and aimed, losing the arrow with her breath. It hit home, sliping in to the small slit and he Knight toppled from his saddle. Daen stood her mouth open and her hands trembaling, she fely curiously still as if the numbness that was in her hands now lay about her heart, as if she was watcing herself, she had just killed a man. The carriage sifted below her sudenly and at last began to move.

Daen found herself on the floor on her back winded and wondering what had happened. "Retreat!" Someone called. Turning her head she saw that the carriage wheals at last were free, and from her unusual vantage she was gratified to see the horses drawing the coach springing forwards in to a hearty canter, the rest of the men following it. She had to curl up in a ball to avoid the hoofs of her own men. It was all noise and confusion for a moment, when the din finally died down she rolled over with a groan. Suddenly there was something cold pressed to her breast, there was a sharp pain and then something warm flowed down her chest, blood. Her eyes followed the long blade upwards to its owner who's eyes were filled with hatred. Daen shifted and he pressed the blade down harder until she cried out with the pain.

"Wretch, you killed my brother!" He snarled in the trade language of the Imperials. Daen from the tone of his voice deduced that he was a young man and felt a pang of remorse. In the heat of the moment she had forgotten the severity of taking a life, the finality, and the repercussions. However the emotion that was most dominant in her mind was fear. This man meant to kill her and nothing she could say would have changed his mind. Death had breathed on her neck more than once and yet Daen had never felt mortal terror such as she had now. Before she had expected the situation as her lot, normaly to worn down mentaly and physicly to care much, it had always just been a case of leting go, but this time she did not want to die. There was still so much that she had to do, so many who relied upon her. And there was regret, terrible regret for all the things that she had not done, not said. She wanted a home, a famaly, love and life and now that she had been offerd those things nothing was going to take that away from her.

She watched helpless as the man's arm tensed to cut through her beating heart. She did not close her eyes, she would watch this death coming she had the courage. Her eyes held his, deep brown eyes that demanded vengeance. That’s the moment when her Lord surged in to her mind. Unconsciously she had sought him out; his mind was sluggish fighting the layers of sleep he was wraped in. He did not know what was going on but he knew that she was in mortal danger; he could feel her fear clearly even with the many miles separating them, and now he could see the attacker. “Daen!” Her called to her, the anguished and wrothful cry of an animal whos mate was in danger, he was in her mind helpless to do anything but rage at the distance that separated them.

There was a loud noise that broke through the rush of blood in her ears and the young man was booted sideways by one of her own men. Daen rolled out of the way getting out of the way of her mans horse's hoofs. “Climb up!” She scrambled to her feet and jumped up behind the obliging knight. Daen looked behind her and was glad to see that the Imperil knight had only been sent sprawling and had not been otherwise harmed; she did not want another death to add to her conscious tonight. "I bet you thought that we had forgotten about you M'Lady."

"The thought had crossed my mind." Daen admitted. The knight drew alongside someone leading Daen's horse and still cantering she changed horses, wincing as all the movement pulled upon her wound.

“Daen!” Lord Darcia called again.

“I’m fine. I’m safe.” She replied it was not quite a lie. She could feel his hand on her cheek, touching her lips in a ghostly caress. “Go I need to concentrate.” She pushed him away, he was to tempting, his strength, his fierce love, but she could not lean on him now, she had to rely on herself and so denying her need for him she blocked him out. Daen found herself damnability week and when she looked down she saw that the front of her jerkin was stained with her own blood, vivid red in the sunrise.

The knight who had rescued her had been watching her closely and seeing her sway in the saddle he grabbed her by the collar of her cloak and pulled her back in the saddle. It was only when this happed again that he decided to call and halt to the flight and pulling the young woman down from the saddle despite her protests deposited her in the carriage. "It would be a fine thing for me to have to explain to Lord Darcia that we let you die just because you wanted to ride your horse." The veteran warrior smiled at her, "Pity you're a girl M'lady you're as game as they come but women shouldn't really get in the thick of it."

Daen decided to take the complement and the chastising and thanked him. The carriage lurched forward and the dowager looked at the youth who despite their brave protests looked fit to swoon, were deathly pale and blood still continued to flow from her wound. "That looks mortal bad!" One of the priestesses ventured.

The carriage once more lurched forward as the horses began their brake neck pace again. The new passenger was thrown forwards and it was up to the dowager to hold on to the wounded young woman. The carriage soon picked up speed as the driver whipped up the horses in to a gallop. The rest of the escort were now upon their horses and riding either side of the equipage.

"It's not so bad." The young woman protested weekly.

"I'm sure it is nothing more than a nasty scratch." Lady Cyrus agreed placed her own shawl which she had made in to a pad to stem the bleeding. Touching the girls bare skin she felt that the girls mind was heavily guarded, but from whom? Something twined in her aura, a familiar presence like a clinging sent, one that he new instantly as her sons. "This will have to do until we reach Rhayd and it can be bound properly."

"Thank you Lady Cyrus." The young woman answered meekly.

"I heard that my son had a woman captain in his army but I didn't know he had more females in his guard." The old woman commented.

Daen smiled ruefully, "Truth is I probably should not be here. Lord Darcia will probably be very angry with me."

"Ah, so that’s who you are then." Lady Cyrus said, "I had suspected as much but I wanted to make sure. He probably will be angry with you but I shouldn't think you would care for that or heed him much."

"No." She shook her head. "I never have heeded him." Now the sun was rising the dowager was able to take a good look at the young woman who now rested against her shoulder. Her son was right she was a taking little thing, with high cheekbones, and a masterful little chin, her only fault was perhaps her flying brows, but any darkness they cast were lightened by her vivid green eyes. The dowager laughed with a little bounce, "This is a grand adventure is it not?"

The young woman seemed taken aback but a warm simile burned in her eyes, her lips curving slowly in irrepressible good humour. "Yes, yes I suppose it is."


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It was a hot and heavy morning, the sky grumbling, discontent, as thunder clouds gathered above the mountains as if they sought to reflect them. Alwen approached Lord Darcia’s tent with some misgivings. Lord Darcia had woken last night suddenly, panting, and sweat covering his body to then pace the tent like a caged tiger, his eyes blazing, his face a map of anguish. The young squire was too afraid to talk to him, to afraid to find out what nightmare could make the perpetually calm Duke so disturbed. Eventually the Duke settled though the storminess seemed to seethe around him. He sat on his bed and had fallen to brooding, his brow darkened, and his mouth hard as the static in the atmosphere began to accumulate. During his morning routine Captain Veione Faorin had given him a message to tell him, simply “They have arrived.” Veione was not above boyish tricks and had already got the young squire in to trouble a few times, not serious trouble but the incidents had been embarrassing to say the least. Since Vespa had left Veione it would seem had nothing much better to do then bug him. Today the blond captain had the fay look in his eyes that Alwen had come to know boded ill for him.

He bit his lip and entered the pavilion where Lord Darcia was pursuing some maps with Captain Tann showing no signs of what ever it was that had disturbed him in the early hours of the day. “My lord.” Alwen bowed low.

“Alwen what is it?”

Alwen swallowed hard. “Captain Faorin has a message for you. He said that they have arrived.” Alwen also fought the urge to say “Who ever they might be.”

“Anything else lad?” Captain Tann asked in his gruff voice.

“He also winked.”

“Ah!” Lord Darcia seemed to have remembered something and he nodded to himself. The young squire stood up and looked at the Duke unsure of how to excuse himself. Darcia saved him the worry. “Go on boy.” He looked at his captain. “So they have arrived have they?”

“Indeed sire Veione told me this morning.”

Alwen looked from his Lord to the Captain in confusion. He suspected that whatever had arrived had to do with him judging by the sly smile that Captain Tann kept favouring him with. Darcia remained as unreadable as ever. “Come with me then boy.”

Alwen followed his master still unsure as to what was going on. The Duke led him to the horse lines were Veione was waiting a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Bring him about then Veione lets not leave our young friend in suspense.” Lord Darcia said.

Veione bowed low and grinned at the young lad before disappearing off and returning with a large black war horse. The proud stallion arched his neck and stepped out well under the bridle. Lord Darcia came forwards and took the rains, the horse recognising its master tilted its head to be scratched behind his ears, Lord Darcia idly complied. The stallion was a fine piece of mountain breeding, with a well angled shoulder, a broad chest, sloping pastons, well sprung hocks, a short back, and muscled quarters. “His name.” lord Darcia informed his squire, “Is Lonan.” And with that he handed the war horses rains over to a rather shocked Alwen.

“I don’t understand.”

“Lonan was my horse and he bore me well and he fathered both Gunnar and Per.” Lord Darcia said looking over the stallion fondly. “He was wounded but it has healed. I retired him, but I don’t think that retirement suited him very well.”

“No he was getting bored and fat.” Veione added glibly.

“Lonan is an old hand at warfare; he should bare you well and teach you a few things.”

Alwen blinked back tears. “My Lord I can’t accept…”

“How else are you going to ride in to battle boy?” Lord Darcia said sternly. “You will be doing me a favour keeping the old boy exercised and entertained.” He patted his old mount, “Warriors never really retire.”

He left his very grateful squire to get to know Lonan. Darcia did not want to be thanked profusely, he did as he pleased and expected obedience not gratitude. Darcia was a practical man, the boy had needed a horse his having been killed under him. He could have given the boy a young horse, but even though Alwen was a good rider he still had a lot to learn about surviving battles, Lonan an old hand would keep him alive. Darcia smirked Alwen would soon see what a strong mount Lonan could be. He was a good horse, but he also had his own way of going about things,Alwen had proved to be a fast learner a fall or two might make him faster. Darcia took his favourite mount Per out of the lines to drink at the near by stream needing the time alone, fearing that Veione would work out something was wrong if he had not already.

Per walked beside him placidly, his dark ears twitching to and fro as they entered the coppice where the stream was. It was a hot balmy day, the sky pressing down upon them, but Darcia would not be caught out in the open without his armour. His horse lowered his mouth to drink and Lord Darcia stroked his glossy coat, finding some level of comfort in the solid warmth of the animal.

Last night had been perhaps the most terrible moment of his life. He had woken to his worst nightmare, only to find that it was real. Every moment of Daen’s fear and terror he had felt, and he could do nothing to help her. From a distance he had been watching over her, touching her mind every so often just to prove to himself that she was alright. The one time she reached for him and he had failed her, in her moment of trouble she had instinctively called out to him, and he had been able to do nothing. He looked down at his hands, tensed the muscles of his back, a body that was a weapon, but what was the point of this strength if he could not protect the one he loved?

For a moment he thought that he was going to have to watch her die. Had she done so he would have willingly followed her in to the darkness. He laughed bitterly at himself; he had been so independent, he who had needed no one, who could survive anything, could not bare the thought of living in a world if one single slip of a woman was not in it. This was not love this was obsession.

What made it worse was even now he could do nothing. Daen had closed her mind off from him. From the first time that he had kissed her he had found her mind, caught at it’s threads like ribbons in the wind, but she had grown strong, strong enough to keep him out completely much to his frustration. He tried to pull on his memories, but it did no good, but the contact had been to brief, his mind had been too fractured to be able to work out where Daen was, or even who had been threatening her all he knew was her pain, her guilt, her regret, and above all fear. He swore if he ever got his hands on the bastard that had dared threaten his woman there would be nothing left of them. He tried again to contact her, but met with the same result, her walls were up and there was no getting past them as she sought to keep him from her pain. His only comfort was that to retain such walls the swords man could not have done to much damage.

All he could do is wait, wait for when she lowered her guard or some other message was sent to let him know what was going on back in the North. She had not been in Bala he knew that much, and that was perhaps the only thing that had prevented him from riding out that very night to seek her out. For the time being as much as it vexed him he was needed here. “Please let me know where you are little one.” He pleaded, his voice a whisper on the wind as the storm clouds gathered over his lands.


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AN: Thanks kitsunekilala for the reviews, they are much appreciated. Sorry it took so long to get this posted as I have done the last two chapters in one big go. So chapter six with some luck will be up in a day or so. I'm also hugely honoured that you have done fan art of my characters! I would love to see it at some point!

Luv_bug, thank you also for a review. Vespa will get her tern but it's Daen and Darcia's first, so for anyone who enjoys their little get togethers in chapter six you should not be disappointed.