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Date Posted: 19:58:10 04/05/03 Sat
Author: Adaron, Leila, Gelan, & Brage
Subject: Another member is added
In reply to: No post. 's message, "War of the Everdark" on 12:38:20 03/27/03 Thu

January 14

The sixth 'Darkday they turned at last to the Old Rell Way, for now they had to follow its course through the wide cap in a westward spur of the Grimwall Mountains standing across the way. Leila rode next to Gelan for the road was fraught with peril and the Woman's eyes were needed, for they did not have a Warrow, up front to ward the way rather than 'be lolling behind on her steed' as Gelan smilingly put it. Yet though Gelan had smiled, they were coming to a dangerous pass, and if Spawn roamed it, they would be filled with risk.

So Leila had moved Solos to the front, her eyes scanning the horizon in front of her, and so far there had been nothing to concern her. For miles they rode in peace, no singing from the musical gypsy today as she feared the land that they roamed through and certainly did not want to attract attention to them with that sweet soprano.

Southward they went, through rising hill country, ten miles before coming to the Old Rell Way where it first entered the wide gap. No enemy did they see, though the snow was beaten down in a wide track made by many tramping feet. "This wake is fresh, perhaps a 'Darkday old, made by an army moving south, "said Gelan as he remounted Jet"

Surely all recalled the Swarm that Jandrel, the Captain of the Arden ward whom they had taken a meal with, had spoken of. But it was Adaron who would remind them. "The Swarm that Jandrel spoke of."

Gelan glanced over to Leila, giving her a nod. "Keep a sharp eye out, for they are before us." He agreed with Adaron's statement.

At the moment of Adaron's words she allowed herself to glance upon him for a moment, almost shyly, for she had avoided his gaze most of the day. A curt nod was given to Gelan as she continued to ride on, the slightest nudge so that Solos picked up the pace in a light loping.

Into the cap they went and beyond, riding another two leagues; and the land began to fall, the close hills spreading out, while the route they followed sung southeastward, rounding the side chain and heading for the Quadran through mounting hill country. "Well, my Lady," said Gelan. "It appears that the danger is past, for the land opens up and we can leave this abandoned road once more. Though there be a Horde before us, we will travel beside its course, this time to the east, I think." Then he turned to Adaron. "We must go swifter and 'round the Spawn ere we come to the Quadran Pass, for we would not want them to get there first."

Her horse was slowed then after a few moments waiting for them to catch up. He had no more gotten out his words when: "King Gelan! I see something on the distance, but still it is too far for me to name what it is."

Jet was urged forward then, Adaron following upon Arauka, leading the pack horse. Swiftly they all cantered along the abandoned road to bring Leila's eyes into range. Finally she would be able to see it: there before them down in the flats nearly five miles distant, a dark Rucken Horde boiled southeastward, force-marching down the Old Rell Way. No sound was heard, the distance leading the illusion of a vast army moving along in eerie silence.

"They are about five miles out..." she said, almost standing in the saddle as her eyes narrowed. "A dark horde of rucks moving toward the southeast. They are not moving all that fast, we could catch them in an hour or less."

Gelan shared a glance with Adaron before speaking. "We'll leave the road and swing around them." (Stupid Jeet) To the east of the Way they slipped aside, riding once more across the open moors. And as they went, the land began to rise, for they were bordering upon the foothills of the Grimwall. An hour they rode, and then another, Leila's eyes keeping the Swarm just in view as the trio passed behind the thickets and hills to the east of the Spaunen.

They now drew even with the swarm. Leila glanced over to High King Gelan and inclined her head. "How long do we follow them, my King?" she asked but then turned her head once more to watch them parade somewhere below them in the open moors.

"How many are there?" Asked Gelan, for his own eyes could not see them.

"Their ranks extend for about three miles," she told him dutifully. Surely he did not intend for those three alone to take on that entire army, did he?

Slowly Gelan shook his head. "Like a dark flood, a plague of ravenous vermin, swarming forth to ravage the Land."

Adarons’ steed quickened its stride to fall alongside the other two. "It is well that this Realm has been long abandoned, then, else this blight would have struck down many an innocent victim."

"Are there Vulgs?" Gelan's thoughts turned to the dire scouts of Drego.

Her voice was silent for a moment before she spoke. "Yes, they rim the fringes of the horde, but nowhere are they more than a mile out from the swarm that sluices over this land."

Grim were Gelan's features, his lips pinching for a moment before he spoke. "Keep your eyes set for them, for it they scent us, they will bring the Ghola." Once more they spurred up the pace, and Jet, Arauka, and Solos bore them southeastward and the packhorse cantered behind. An hour they rode at a garying gait, for they must need husband the strength of the steeds, and at the end of that time, Leila could not longer see the Horde behind. "On the marrow we must risk the road once more for our pace will be swifter upon its abandoned bed than through this rough hill country." They were now at a walk with the horses.

She stared at Gelan as though he had lost his mind. "You expect us to camp here with the horde only miles behind?" she asked, her eyes wide. "And then want to ride upon that open bed where they follow? They will see our tracks, they will scent our horses...You can not be serious."

With Adaron silent, Gelan spoke in response to her concern. "That is a danger, Leila, yet we cannot make haste through this broken land unless we soon take to the Old Rell Way; it begins its long run up to the Quadran, and ravines and bluffs will bar our route if we are not upon the Way. And haste is needed, for not only must we hie for Pellar, we must also try to warn the Silverwald of the Horde behind us. There is this, too: if we start up to Quadran Pass and find we cannot cross through--because of snow or Spawn--then we will be forced to retrace our steps, coming back down before turning south for Gunar Slot. And we must not meet up with this Horde on that narrow road down from the heights. Aye, Leila, you are right to think of the Vulgs, and we will not rejoin the Old Rell Way until we are far ahead of here. Perhaps they will not scent a 'Darkday-old trail. But we must at least come again to the Way to gain greater speed, for not to do so poses a greater risk."

"You're the King," she said simply. "We camp here then?" She was still obviously not fond of the idea to say the least.

"It is the only choice left to us, Leila." Spoke up Adaron. "We cannot be caught at the pass between one Horde and another."

"Was I protesting?" she asked in an almost moody tone before she was once more quiet as Solos walked along easily.

Adaron watched her silently for a moment as through the hills they wended, bearing southeastward. Then he returned his gaze to the way before them, silently wondering about her response. The land grew rougher as they went. And, as Gelan has said, ravines and bluffs began to bar their way. And as if the Fates had conspired perversely, ramparts and fissures slowly began to force the trio south, back toward the Old Rell Way. Too soon! They were moving back too soon! They were going where the Vulgs could scent them! Yet there was nothing they could do to change their course as they turned through stone and rounded thickets and rode along the faces of low-walled, sheer bluffs.

"They are less than a 'Darkday's travel behind us," she felt the need to point out. "We will easily be scented by the Vulgs that precede them." Regardless on if they had a choice or not. Leila was visibly angry. If they had not lost thirteen miles the other night perhaps they would not be in this situation? Great. All of this was her fault.

"I deem we must now strike for the Way and make a run for it," said Gelan grimly, "for what Lady Leila says is true." And so they turned and deliberately pressed toward the abandoned road, coming down through the ruptured land.

As they came nearly galloping along a twisting valley, suddenly Adaron kicked Arauka forward to come meshing between Solos and Jet, Adaron’s hands reaching out to grab the steeds bridles, bringing the horses to a sudden, jarring, halt. "Hsst!" he said "Listen!" And the Elf pointed ahead toward a bend. Above the blowing of the steeds they could faintly hear the skirl of steel upon steel, the clash of combat, the clangor of a duel.

She looked up to Adaron then. "Should we aid them? Or wait until the battle has finished before we move in to see what has been slain?" Leila was curious and wanted to get back above everything so that she could see what fought ahead.

Right as Leila had finished her words a pony bearing supplies scaddled around the bend and bolted past them, his eyes rolled with terror, his hooves beating a frantic tattoo upon the stony ground. Gelan drew his sword and Adaron already had Balde in hand, its blood-red blade-jewel streaming scarlet fire along the weapon's edge, silently shouting, Evil is near!

Sometimes there was just no way to win. Ugh. Her bow was drawn, an arrow pulled from the quiver and nocked. The arrow placed there was that infamous Red Quarrel, the light metal shaft felt different in her hands, so she was not surprised when her eyes found it. Quickly it was replaced within the quiver and another arrow chosen and nocked. Leila was a little shaken by touching that oddly crafted arrow once more, but she had to concentrate on this now.

At a nod from Gelan, forward they went, the steeds at a walk, nearing the bend. No one knew what lay ahead. Ching! Clang! came the sounds, louder. Slowly they rounded the bed, to come upon a scene of great carnage. Rucks were there, lying dead, slain Hlok, took, cleft by great gaping wounds. Chank! Dlang! Ponies were slaughtered, some still kicking in their death throes. But eyes were drawn elsewhere, for here and there other warrior Folk lay: Dwarves! Dwarves slain by scimitar and cudgel! Dwarven axes asplash with black Ruck grume bloodily attested to the deaths of the Spaunen, just as red-washed Rucken blades spoke of the Dwarven dead. Chang! Shang! At last the trio came full around the bend; from the roadbed of the Old Rell Way the ring of steel upon steel hammered forth. Dhank! Clang! It was a Dwarf! And a Hlok! And they fought to the death: the last two survivors of a gory slaughter, the last two. And they fought on in a bloody battleground, awash with the ichor of the slain.

Upon her horse, Leila drew back that arrow. She would have to wait until there was a safe shot and no chance of her slaying the dwarf. See Gelan, now that was Ruck size.

"No!" shouted the Dwarf, hate-filled eyes never leaving his foe. "He is mine!" The Hloks eyes darted toward the trio, and he snarled in rage and leapt toward the Dwarf. Clank! Dring!

Gelan's grim voice spoke above the ring of steel: "Hold your arrow, Lady Leila. He had the right."

It was ax against scimitar, but an ax wielded in a manner that one had never imagined. The Dwarf grasped the oaken helve with a two-handed grip: right hand high near the blade, left hand low near the haft butt. And he used the haft to parry scimitar blows; and stabbed forward with the cruel ax beak, and shifted his grip to strike with fury, lashing out the double-bitted blade in sweeping blows, driven by the power of broad Dwarven shoulders. Yet the Hlok was skilled, too, and stood a full head taller than his foe. His reach with the scimitar was considerably longer, and the hack and thrust of his broad, curved blade was swift and deadly. And the edge of his weapon was smeared with a black substance.

Leila relaxed her arrow, though did not put it away, and the arrow remained upon the string, it simply was not drawn taut and it was aimed at the ground just in case the dwarf did not prevail and the Hlok turned its attentions towards them.

Clang! Chank! cried the tortured steel, as blade met blade, and the Dwarf was pressed back. But then with a hoarse shout, the Dwarf vented the ancient battle cry of his Folk, "Chakka shok! Chakka cor!" (Dwarven axes! Dwarven might!) and attacked in fury. The Hlok desperately hacked downward--a mighty blow--but the curved blade chopped into the soft brass strip embedded the length of the ax helve, inlaid there for just that purpose. Swiftly, the Dwarf whipped the helve left, thrusting the edge-caught scimitar aside, then jabbed forward the steel ax-beak, taking the Hlok in the chest, the iron fang bursting through the Hlok's scale mail and spearing into his heart. And before the dead Hlok could fall to the ground, the Dwarf whipped the axe blade back and swung a chopping blow, the bit cleaving through the Hlok's temple. And as the foe fell dead to the snow, the Dwarf stepped back and raised his ax and cried: "Chakka shok! Chakka cor!"

Her stomach lurched and bile rose burning into her throat. The arrow and bow was regaled to one hand, the other coming to cover her mouth. Her head shook down to hide herself from the sight beneath the hood of her cloak. Slow breathing, slow breathing, but the smell of blood and gore was not helping.

Sheathing his sword, Gelan dismounted, and so did Adaron and together they strode unto the Dwarf, the sole survivor of the nearly two hundred forty combatants slain there that 'Darkday. And he stood among the dead as if he owned this bloody battleground. The Dwarf warily watched as the two came near, glancing past them to the figure still on her steed, his gore-splashed ax gripped in gnarled hands.

Once composed, she dismounted and too strode, standing beside Adaron. The hood of her cloak pulled up over her head to cast her face in shadow even moreso than the deep Shadowlight did, her eyes alight from within the darkness. She said nothing, but just observed the massacre, and sadly enough in her mind calculated that the vulgs would lose their scent among the dead dwarves and swarm that lay here. Perhaps she would impart that information later.

Dwarf he was, dressed in earth-colored quilted mountain gear; linked rings of black-iron chain mail could be seen under his open jacket. He stood perhaps four and a half feet tall, and brown locks fell to his shoulder from his plain steel helm. His eyes were deep brown, nearly black, and a forked beard reached to his chest. His shoulders were half again as wide as a Man's. "That's close enough," he growled, wary of the strangers, raising his ax to be ready, "close enough till I know more of you. I was here first, yet sill will I give you my name: I am Brage, Bekki's son." He spoke to the obvious Elf. "Who be you hight? And the Man? And the Child?"

Adaron answered him, his face void of expression his voice empty of emotion. "The Woman here," he gestured to the figure that the Dwarf had referred to as a child. "is Lady Leila originally from distant Aragon, now from The Eternal Elvenhome."

The Dwarf's eyes widened and he offered her a stiff bow.

When he called her a child she gave an exasperated sigh. Her hands came up and un-hooded herself as Adaron announced her, revealing black braided hair, the braid disappearing into her cloak for its length, her skin the color of rich caramel. Her hand came to tap the left side of her chest and give the dwarf a bow, straightening and sweeping her arm outward before once more her hands came together to tuck her hands out of the cold, her hood remaining down for now.

Adaron continued. "I am Adaron, Emissary of Lord Mallorn, seed of Aravan and son of Rael in Arden Vale." Adaron then greeted the Dwarf in much the same manner Leila had, the Elven way.

Brage returned the courtesy, his ax now resting with its beak down to the ancient pave.

"And this is Gelan King, son of slain Aurion King, now High Ruler of all Midland."

Brage's face blenched to hear this news. "Aurion Redeye is dead?" he blurted "What ill news you bear." And then the Dwarf made a sweeping bow to Gelan. "King Gelan, it was in answer to the summons from your sire that I and the comrades I captain marched north." Brage swept his hand in a wide gesture over the battlefield, and then seemed to realize for the first time that he stood alone. Shocked registered upon his features, and without another word he stepped to a cloak lying in the snow and fixed it around his shoulders and cast the hood over his head, in deep mourning.

Glancing behind him, Leila's eyes widened. "They come, my King...Just into my view. They come aswarming. We can not stay here, they will be upon us. If fortune is with us, the Vulgs will not scent us among the slain here." A soft clicking sound and Solos came to her side. Her hand took his reins lightly.

"What comes?" barked Brage, his face enshrouded within his hood.

"The horde that was moving this way...they draw closer! We must depart now, Gelan King. I beg of you."

"Horde?" the Dwarf barked again.

"Aye," said Gelan, "south they come, a dark tide bound toward the Quadran, but whither they go, we cannot say. This band your warriors slew was perhaps the vanguard of the Horde that comes behind."

"How know you this?" Brage's voice was harsh as he peered to the northwest. "I can see no Foul Folk, no Grg, through his cursed blackness."

"The Gypsy sees them," replied Adaron, informing the Dwarf. "for her strange eyes, and the eyes of the Waerlinga, pierce through this myrk further than those of other Folk."

Brage stepped close to Leila and looked into her eyes, his own eyes squinting. Then he stepped back, seeming satisfied. "I believe you now, Gypsy."

South came the Horde.

"Well that is good, but that does not change the fact that they draw closer." She mounted up onto her white stud then, giving all three a look. "Hasten all of you! Now!" Her tone indicated that she was not kidding, and unless they would like an arse-kicking like Adaron got, then it would be good that they hurried along.

"But my dead kindred," protested Brage. "Are we to leave them lying here upon the open battlefield? Stone or fire, that it the way of the Chakka. If they are not laid to rest in stone, or burned on a fitting pyre, their shades will wander an extra age before rebirthing can occur."

Now Adaron mounted his dapple grey. "We have not the time for a proper burial, Warrior Brage, for the press of Drego's Spaunen will not permit it."

"Aye, you are right, Elf. It is not the time for mourning or burial." Brage cast back his hood, and retrieved a pack from the snow and shouldered it. Then he looked over the field of carnage. "They were fine comrades, the forty Chakka I strode beside, and mighty were their axes." "Forty?" Gelans voice was filled with amazement.

"Did you say that but forty Dwarven warriors slew all these foe? There must be two hundred Spawn here! Hai! Mighty were their axes."

Still the Horde marched onward, drawing closer.

And then Leila's voice raged. "I swear to High Adon if you all do not shut up and mount up so that we can ride on then I will become a foe far worse than that which advances upon us. If those vulgs scent our tracks and come after us there is no guarantee that the horses can outrun them. Now mount up!"

Gelan mounted up upon Jet, a glance given to Leila. Adaron held his hand out to Brage. "Mount up behind, Warrior Brage."

Brage looked up at Arauka looming above him, and the Dwarf's face blenched. Quickly he backed away, holding his hands before him, palms out. "No, Adaron Elf, I shall ride a pony, and not upon the back of such a great beast."

Adaron could hardly believe this Dwarf and finally exasperation filled his voice. "Drimm Brage, you have no choice!" Adaron's gesture swept the field. "All of the ponies are slain or have fled. You must mount my horse. It is not as if you will be commanding, Arauka, for I will do that deed. You will sit behind, nothing more, while we fare south."

Leila groaned. "Lord Brage, I am not much larger than yourself in height, and certainly not in girth, you must take heart and mount one of these horses, though I deem it would be wiser, Adaron, if he were to ride with me, for I am by far lighter and smaller than you are. Solos would not so much notice Brage's weight in addition to mine more than a grown elf or man, but Arauka surely would."

It was logical enough, but still Brage shook his head. "But I do have a choice." And Brage's voice flares with ire at the tone Adaron had taken with him. "I can stand here athward the road and meet with the Horde. My ax will drink more blood of the Squarm ere this 'Darkday is done." Brage unshouldered his weapon and turned to face the north.

Southward swarmed the Horde, their hard stride bearing them toward the four. "Up behind her, you stubborn fool!" Commanded Adaron. "The Spaunen have hove into my sight now, and we have not the time nor patience to argue with a stiff-necked, horse-fearing Drimm!"

With a snarl, Brage spun to face Adaron and hefted his ax.

"Brage, please..." her voice lowering a bit. "We are all allies here, but we are all in great danger. Soon the horde will be in your sight, and I assure you that they are three miles long and wide. You cannot avenge your kinsmen here, they will fell you with one black shafted arrow. You must come with us now and you will have your revenge, but not this moment. I beg of you. Put away your ax and mount up with me."

Brage lowered his ax. Then Gelan spoke. "Warrior Brage, I need your strength and skill by my side. Our journey south is fraught with peril and I must reach the Host. With you in our company our chances improve. I ask you in the name of all Midland to join us. " The Dwarf looked at the High King, and then to Leila, and his eyes strayed to his slain kindred. To the shadowed north he looked, where beyond his sight the Horde boiled southward. Last of all he looked at Adaron, and with a growl Brage slung his ax down his back by its charrying thong and stepped over to Leila and reached up to grasp the Gypsy's grip, stepping into the stirrup and swinging up onto Solos' back behind Lady Leila. "Durek, varack an!" (Durek, forgive me!)

Once he hand mounted up behind her she replaced her feet in the stirrups. "Hold on to me," she told him before Solos was urged onward through the field of dead.

And as they spurred forward though the Shadowlight and Gelan glanced back but it was Adaron that informed him that the Horde was but a league distant, and the Vulgs that loped before them had drawn ever closer. Yet he was not worried. "We shall ride another ten miles or so and then make our camp. The Swarm will not come that far, for we have covered more than thirty miles to here, and since we did not see sign of where last the Horde camped, it must have been back beyond the cap. Even Rukha and Lokha will not mare forty miles a leg." But he did not finish his thought. Gelan fell silent, and the horses cantered on.
The four made camp in a barren thicket well up and off the road.

Leila, much to the protest of Brage, had helped him from the horse and now remained by her horse, talking softly to the white stud in her native tongue while she removed his tack. She was weary after this day but thankful that from now on they would have more sleep now that the ward would be divided into four shifts, a far cry from the half the night shifts she and Gelan pulled when they set off on this journey.

Gelan had removed all the tack from Jet and turned to the steed that was tethered behind him, Leila's Solos. A gentle hand lifted to gentle stroke the white studs muzzle, eyes gazing upon the horse for a moment before his attention turned to Leila, his voice coming just above a whisper, so that the others could not hear him. "There is another reason that the Spawn will not follow us. You were on the right when you said that the Vulgs might loose our scent since it mingled with the battle. But we also our southward track mingles with that made by the Dwarves going north, and so the Vulgs will not single out our passage. They will confuse our spoor with that of Brage's force." He stepped close to her and now he whispered. "Yet as I mentioned, that is not the only reason."

"What is the other reason then, my King?" she asked. Her voice was equally low to preserve the exchange between the two humans.

"I did not wish to say this before Brage, but when the Spaunen come to the scene of the battle, they will stop to loot and mutilate and search for survivors, and perhaps make camp. Yes. I deem that they camped back at the slaughter ground and will squabble over the loot of the slain."

She bowed her head and blew out a puff of air. Her head shook softly, her eyes looking at the ground still when she spoke. "Why must this war be so cruel? And each of us, no matter how allied and with how many, we all still fight it on our own."

"That is the way of War, Leila." And he seemed to now realize just how young and innocent she had probably been before those gruesome battles atop the ramparts of Challerain Keep. "I do not mean to cause you to despair, I tell you Brage's fallen comrade's fates because more than once I have felt that you do not fully trust my ability."

"I do not doubt you," and that was all she said on the subject, clearly not wanting to discuss it further. She was not so innocent as most young women of seventeen winters, but she certainly had never imagined something so horrifying as this war. And she had no one to hold her for the long, painful journey as she had when she had come near death the first time.

"Then please do not show me other wise." He did not seem bitter, or upset. And the the comment was not commanding in anyway, simply asking. He did not want there to be any stress between them. And with that said, feeling she was upset, he moved back over to where the other two sat. No fire burned for the Spawn was somewhere behind them.

Brage looked up from his rations. "There's War, bloody War to the south. The Rovers of Kistan, the Lakh from Hyree, through Vancha and Tugal they came marching, across Hoven and Jugo, and over the Avagon sea in ships." Gelan lowered himself to sit across from the Dwarf, seeming weary. "Please speak on, Warrior Brage."

She sighed softly, resting her forehead against Solos' neck. "I should sleep over here with you. I would be warmer than anywhere else, you have a lot of body heat to share," she said with a bitter chuckle, her voice low.

And so Brage continued. "Pellar was unprepared, and was struck to the knees, nearly a killing blow. But Valon rallied, and the outlying muster sounded. Even now the struggle goes on. Word was sent north to High King Aurion, yet no messages returned. Then we learned that the Hyranee held Gunarring Gap and the heralds had been felled. Word came, too, from far Riamon that a fearful darkness had fallen upon the Grimwall and now swept south. At last a rider from Challerain Keep won through. How? I cannot say, but he bore word of Drego's Horde in the north. We could send but a token of the Red Hills Chakka to aid at the north Keep, for the rest stood against the Jihad. I was chosen to captain forty, and by poney we marched north. Up through Valon we went, staying east of the Gunarring Gap, for it was and perhaps it still held by the foe. North we went instead, some fifty miles up from the Gap, for there lies an ancient secret way across the Gunarring, known to Chakka as the Walkover. By this route we came, crossing into Gunar, and then north again. Up through Gunar Slot we went, and when we came to the River Hath, there we found this foul darkness. Agog we were, but through blinding snow we pressed, across Hath Ford and into the Everdark beyond: and it was like walking into a deep phosphor cave, this Shadowlight. Through the Winternight we marched, along the west flank of the Grimwall: we were making for Rhone Ford, the Stone-arches Bridge, and finally for the Signal Mountains and Challerain Keep at their end. A long trip it would have been, for we had already been on the march nearly thirty days and expected to tramp twenty more; but the vanguard of the Horde fell upon us. All were slain but me." Brage fell silent and once more cast his hood over his head.

"This is foul news indeed," said Adaron, his eyes distant as he gazed at the snow across from him. Then he seemed to snap from his world as he turned to Gelan. "but it explains much: why our messages did not get through and why no word came from the south, for Gunarring Gap is held by the foe. It also explains why the Host has not come north, for it wars against the enemy in the south."

"The War, Brage, what news?" Asked Gelan, his voice grim, his eyes cold.

The war talk was giving Leila a headache. Her bedroll was pulled from the appropriate horse and taken to the appropriate place. They could wake her up when it was her watch. She had not even eaten the mian that night, and once more was coughing.

"Sire, I know not how it fares now," replied Brage, "for a month has fled since last I knew. Pellar reeled under the onslaught, but the horsemen from Valon came and drove them back a ways. The battles seesawed like a teeter-totter, but more enemy came in ships. At the time I marched north, the scales seemed tipped against us, and our prospects seemed dire."

"A Jihad, you say?" Gelan was pondering, his hand upon his chin.

Brage nodded. "A Holy War. They are convinced that Gyphon will return and cast Adon down."

At the talk of the Holy War and that the Hyranee and Kistans believed that Gyphon would return, Adaron's face turned ashen. "How could that be? The Great Evil is banished beyond the Spheres. He cannot return."

Brage merely shrugged his shoulders.

"'How could that be?' you ask," said Gelan, his voice bitter. "Lord Adaron, I shall answered your question with one of my own." He gestured at the Everdark that surrounded them. "How can this be, I ask, that Adon's Covenant is broken by the Winternight? What dark force, what eater of light, rules the Sun such that it cannot pierce this shadowy clutch? And if this can be--that Adon's Covenant is broke after four thousand years--then perhaps Gyphon can indeed return."

"Ah!" Cried Brage suddenly, "if that could happen, then the world would be cast down into a pit so cruel that Hél itself would appear as a paradise in its stead."

No word was said by any for a long while but then at last Gelan spoke: "We must get some rest, for tomorrow we ride to the foot of the Quadran Pass, and the next 'Darkday we attempt to cross over. I will watch, and then wake Leila."

"No, Gelan King," countered Adaron, lifting his hand to stop any protest. "You are weary, as is she, and I deem that the journey is taking its toll on her, for she seems to becoming slightly ill. I can see that she is weary, and during these next few 'Darkdays her vision will be most critical. She should rest and I will watch, for my eyes, though not equal to hers in this myrk, are more than a match for the Rupt. And the sleep of Elves is different from that of mortals, for I can erst and watch at one and the same time, though not forever--even Elves need sound sleep on occasion--yet many days can I keep the vigil ere that comes to pass." Well, Leila had known, and now so too did Gelan and Brage. And so all bedded down but Adaron, and he sat upon a high stone and kept the watch, resting his mind in gentle memories while his eyes warded them all. Yet it was a long time before the other who fell asleep, for the words of Gyphon from long ago haunted their thoughts. "Even now I have set into motion events you cannot stop. I shall return! I shall conquer! I shall rule!"

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