The Iron Lily (Part 28): The Black Priest

 Halthor woke in the small hours of the morning when the traveler's rest had a cold draft blow in. Halthor sat up on the fire warmed sleeping platform and looked over. In the ruddy light of the smoored fire, he saw a man that wore the colors of the priesthood of the goddess. This confused him, as only women were in the service of great Roen, goddess of all life. As the man took off his furred hat and approached the fire, Elwis sniffed the pack he had set down beside the door when he entered.

Halthor stared at the man in amazement. His skin was a dark color that Halthor had never seen before. "Are you a man or a spirit?" Halthor asked quietly. The man gave a good natured laugh.

"I am Khasis, servant of the Lady and guest of the High Priestess of Roen. She sent me east to seek out the one who bore the arms of the Iron Lily," he said as he pulled off his mitts and stretched his hands out to the fire. "Ah," he sighed, "For nine days, I have been traveling over hill and dale. It would have been ten if that storm came to the mountain but it moved north of us. We were fortunate." Khasis looked over at the red eared dog.

"You, dog? We meet again," he said, "Last time I saw you, Freystein was passing through the valley going north. Tell me, dog, have you found what you were looking for?" Elwis trotted over to Halthor and sat beside his feet. Khasis gave Halthor a critical look. "This is a builder with a shield, not a hero," Khasis scoffed. Elwis surprised Halthor and Khasis by giving a low growl. Khasis raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, dog, be offended. If it pleases you to name him hero, so be it. I don't see it," Khasis said, "I just see another poor soul trying to stay warm in this gods cursed weather. Ah, to be in Dacia. At least it was warm in the desert."

"You were traveling in the dark?" Halthor asked.

"An old habit, if you're traveling long distances in the desert, do as much in the night as you can to avoid the heat of the day," Khasis answered, "The snow glows like the sands do in the light of the three children of Julara. Now, give me your name, builder, as I have given you mine and names have power and should not be given lightly."

"I am Halthor Sigridsonne," the red haired builder answered cautiously.

"Victory's son? Perhaps he is the one you sought, dog," Khasis said, "Tell me, did you come from the city of Starhaven?" Halthor nodded. "Then there is hope for this scribe of the Lady and his adopted homeland," Khasis said, "I come with a message from the High Priestess of Roen. She bade me to tell you not to give Olerand his great-grandfather's arms but pledge yourself to them."

"I am a builder, not a knight," Halthor said with exasperation.

"I am a scribe, not a priestess," Khasis answered, "And yet, I live as they do in this land under the eye of their leader and as a servant to her will. And through her will, do I serve my Lady."

Halthor lowered his head and cradled it in his large, work worn hands. "All I know is how to build things," Halthor muttered, "Knights have been fighting all their lives."

"And yet you have fought mighty battles on your way here," Khasis answered, gesturing at the shield.

"I had no choice," Halthor snapped at him, his head whipping upright, "I've had no choice in any of this."

Khasis crouched before the fire and looked thoughtfully into it. "Sometimes, my friend," Khasis said almost too quietly to be heard over the crackling of the smoored fire, "We have no choice because the gods have put us on a path that is like a river, ever flowing that will drown you if you fight it." Khasis looked over at Halthor. 

"I have been here for three years. I have not seen my homeland in seven. I don't know how to get back to Dacia. I have had no choice in any of this myself. Sometimes, we have no choice but go where the gods send us," Khasis said, "Now, we must rest. Tomorrow, I shall go with you to the village of Applewood. The priestess there will house us and tell you the way to Olerand's lands. For if you continue south as you have been, you will find yourself back in the mountains and in another land."

The Iron Lily: On pause.

 Dear Reader,

I found my notes for the next part of the Iron Lily. Cause for celebration, except for one problem, they're completely out of order and in three notebooks. Look back here next week for the next installment of the Iron Lily. Don't worry, Halthor and Elwis still have plenty of adventures ahead of them. I just have to put the details in the right order. This is the problem of having a stack of notebooks about 1ft tall with ideas in it. I need a better organizational system. LOL

The Iron Lily, Part 27 – The Endless Road

Elwis did indeed lead Halthor to a traveler's rest. It was ramshackle and poorly tended, but still it was shelter against the weather and had a hearth for a fire to beat back the cold. It was nearly sunset when they reached it. The red eared white dog ran in circles about Halthor excitedly as they entered the building. Halthor looked up in the waning light of day that came in through the doorway. Deeming the roof sturdy enough not to collapse upon them as they slept, the red haired builder sighed. He was exhausted. The fight on the cursed battleground had made him weary and the long walk through the holloway just increased that weariness to bone numbing exhaustion. He was tempted to throw himself to the ground and just sleep. He knew, however, that if he didn't light a fire that he wouldn't wake in the morning.

Halthor set his pack down beside the rough shelf that served as a sleeping space. He found it curious that it was fashioned out of earth and near the fireplace. The strangeness of the arrangement, however, was put out of his mind as he stepped back out into the rising wind to find wood. While he scoured the small grove of trees about the traveler's rest, Elwis nipped at his ankles. "What is it?" Halthor said crossly. The dog ran to the windward side of the building and began to dig in the snow. "Oh, come on now," he groaned, "That's just a drift of snow." When Elwis pulled out a branch almost as big around as Halthor's forearm, the 'drift' shifted and a pile of wood was revealed. "You must have one hell of a nose," Halthor commented. Elwis paused in shaking the end of the branch like a rag doll and looked over at Halthor in a classic look of doggy confusion.

Halthor walked over to the wood pile and reached into it. He began pulling out an armload of wood when Elwis yipped almost cheerfully. "Yes, you're a good dog. You did very well today. You're not eating all of my rations, however. If I had some fresh meat, I'd give it to you before carving it up for the pot," Halthor said to Elwis, "Let's get out of this cold and start a fire." Elwis trotted happily, pulling the branch behind him. As they came to the doorway of the traveler's rest, Halthor again wondered why this one was so different from the others. Elwis dropped the branch half in the doorway and began to worry at one of the straps on Halthor's pack. "Hey, stop that!" he shouted, waving an arm at the dog. Elwis looked at Halthor and gave a growl as the dog pulled on the pack, almost toppling it down off the ledge on to itself. Halthor heaved a long suffering sigh of exasperation. He walked over and picked up the pack. As he set it aside, he pointed at Elwis, "Stay out of that or no meat."

Halthor turned his attention back to the work of starting a fire. Soon, he had a decent fire going and the one room building began to warm up considerably when Halthor shut the door. He knelt beside his pack and looked inside. His supplies were still well stocked thanks to the generosity of the Blue Lady. Thinking of the elf-woman, Halthor wondered if she was alright. He decided that Freystein would likely stop to check on her and put the matter out of mind. He set his cook pot in the fire after half filling it with snow. As the snow melted, he pulled out of his pack a sack with mushrooms and dried vegetables in it. Halthor smiled. "Not quite your style, but it looks good to me," Halthor said as he dumped them into the pot.

Elwis whined at the door. Halthor got up and opened it. "Don't wander off too far," Halthor said, "We've seen enough trouble for one day." After several minutes, he heard the fey dog barking at the door. Halthor was in the process of trying to calculate how much of his supply of jerky he could conserve and how much he'd need to feed himself and the dog. He set the leather sack of jerky aside and opened the door. Elwis trotted in with a freshly killed rabbit. "Now how did you find that in this weather?" Halthor wondered as Elwis deposited it at his feet. Elwis nudged Halthor's leg and looked meaningfully towards the door. Halthor stood and went to the door to find not far from it was a hole excavated from the snow and the dog's tracks going into it. Beside the hole was another dead rabbit. Neither rabbit had been chewed upon, though they looked as though they had been tossed about harshly. "You did this, boy?" Halthor asked, looking down at the dog at his left side. Elwis yipped cheerfully and did another lap around Halthor. "You must be my luck bringer," he said, shaking his head with amazement.

"Go on, fetch the other one, I'll get them ready for the pot." Halthor set to work skinning and cleaning the rabbit before him when Elwis arrived with the second. The dog sat by his side as he worked, all but ignoring Halthor in his efforts. When he had the offal of the first rabbit laid aside, Elwis's ears perked up. Halthor prepared the second and laid the offal of it upon the guts of the first. Halthor gathered up the cut rabbits and carried them into the traveler's rest. As he put them into the pot, he suppressed a shudder as a chill breeze blew in from the partially open door.

The last of twilight was fading from the sky as he walked out the door to find Elwis happily dining on the innards of the rabbits. "Good dog," Halthor said, "Come to the door when you're done. It's going to be a cold night." About the time that Halthor's rabbit stew became fragrant and savory to smell, he heard Elwis whining at the door. Halthor opened the door, expecting to see the fey dog with a red muzzle. To his pleasant surprise, Elwis's muzzle was somehow clean. He figured that the dog rolled about in the snow given the sprinkling of the white stuff on his coat.

Halthor set a hand on the earthen sleeping bench and pulled it back in surprise after finding it warm. He shook his head with amazement. The stew in the small cook pot was bubbling and the fire lit the room with ruddy light that was comforting after the horrors of the day. It reminded Halthor of the hearth-fire of Alaric's house. He supposed that the house was now his when he returned to Starhaven. He thought of the city of his birth and life before this strange journey. A sharp pang of homesickness hit him.

"Once I see Olerand, this buiness is done and I'm going back to Starhaven," he said, "A nice quiet life for me. I was a fool of a boy to want adventure when I was young. I asked the gods to give me a quest for the glory of the kingdom. And, here I am. They say when the gods put you on a road, it never ends. We must be halfway through Ranyth by now. The mountains have turned eastward in the distance. The hills are not as steep. We should be on a town soon, if we're lucky."

Flora & Fauna: The 'history' of Dragons

Dear Reader,

Dragons are amazing creatures. They are the cornerstone upon a great deal of fantasy literature is built. One could write a really informative and awesome post about the place of dragons in the genre. My first interaction with dragons aside from fairy tales was Anne McCaffery's Pern series. That, however, is all a tale for another day. The dragons of the Umbrel Chronicles of Evandar have always existed within that universe. Each culture within that universe has had some kind of contact with dragons and have different stories about how they relate to humanity and their origin.

The kingdoms of Evandar and Ranyth border each other. A mountain range that is named for dragons spreads along that boarder and then splits into two separate ranges along the northern borders of those kingdoms. The kingdoms share the same general religion, though there are regional variances in the practices. There is, however, a shared consensus that dragons are dangerous and to be avoided. In Evandar, they are said to be the children of the god of chaos and wind. In Ranyth, they are said to be servants of that god in his malevolent aspect. The folk memory of Ranyth recalls the Great War between the gods drawing out the dragons into combat.

It is a state secret, however, in Ranyth, that the royal household is under the protection of a great dragon. The marriage between Asriel and Erian included the royal family of Dakon-Bar, a sub-kingdom of Evandar, in the protectorate of dragons. This lead to the revelation of the dragon whose domain overlaps Dakon-Bar and gives the region it's name (for Dakon means dragon and -bar is a prefix that denotes a region as forested.) This is an ancient Evandari name for the place. At the heart of it all is a forest known in modern times as Dragonwood forest. Here is the dragon's lair, hidden beneath the hills and trees of the region.

In Ranyth, there are actually two dragons that reside in the region. In the north, is the dragon that is sister to the dragon of Dakon-Bar. This dragon is the matron guardian of the royal family of this kingdom. In the south, all but completely forgotten, is another dragon of a more malevolent nature. They sleep, hidden away within their lairs. For Ranyth was once a battleground between these two dragons during and prior to the Great War of the gods. That battle exhausted them and they have rested for over an Age. When they awaken again, as the dragon of Dakon-Bar has, they will reengage in their fight.

The Iron Lily part 26 – The Parting of Friends

Freystein reached up and checked his tree. A leafless branch hung awkwardly where it had been broken in their fall. Halthor looked at the disappointed expression on Freystein's face. "Let me up," he said. Freystein looked over at Halthor with confusion. "Let me up there and see the tree," he said, "I think I can help. If I remember how."

Freystein stooped and Halthor climbed up their leg to their knee and from the knee up to the shoulder where the tree sat precariously. Halthor looked the tree over. He could see cracks in it and a branch was just about broken off. Halthor sat down on Freystein's shoulder. "I have some rope. I can wrap it around and support the limb. I just need something solid to brace it with." Halthor gasped as Freystein shifted and the world seemed to sway for a moment. Then an enormous hand was holding a handful of skeleton bones. Halthor scrambled over and took a selection of them. A pair of femurs were tied to the trunk of the tree to brace the split wood. A collection of ribs were tied to the trunk and the branch that was half torn off. A part of Halthor said that it was a waste of rope but he pushed the thought away.

Satisfied that the tree was well supported and the rope was going to hold, Halthor put his pack back on and climbed back down. Freystein cautiously stood, reaching up to touch their tree. "HOW HAVE YOU PUT MY SAPLING BACK TOGETHER?" they asked. Halthor scratched the back of his head and looked down at the snow. "WHAT MANNER OF MAGIC DOES HUMANS POSSESS THAT MENDS BROKEN TREES?"

"My father taught me how to do it when I was a young boy. It makes the tree grow how you want it to. He did it with quickwood to save time on carving out shapes," Halthor answered. Freystein very carefully placed a great hand on Halthor's side, a touch almost butterfly light with a hand that could crush him to death. It was a human gesture but mildly disturbing from a mountain troll. "Quickwood makes for somewhat reliable doors and such, but it's better for carving into furniature. And my father said if you really wanted a reliable good, you'd do better with anything other than quickwood." Halthor realized that referring to Alaric as his father felt good and made the ache of being alone easier to bear. "You don't have quickwood up there. But I think you'll gain glory with the bones of your foes supporting your tree," Halthor added, looking up at Freystein.

"THE LAST TIME MY PEOPLE MARCHED TO WAR, THE GREATEST OF WARRIORS WORE THE BONES OF THE FALLEN. IT IS AN HONOR ABOVE ME," Freystein said, "YOUNG HALTHOR, THE HANDS OF GODS MOVE THROUGH AND ABOUT YOU. WHEN TROUBLES COME AGAIN AMONG MEN, MY CLAN SHALL COME TO YOUR AID IN MEMORY OF THIS DEED." Halthor leaned his shoulder in against Freystein's great hand. They had traveled far though it had not seemed so. While it was impulse and a strong sense of self preservation that pushed Halthor to name Freystein as friend, he couldn't help but feel a sense that it was right and proper that he did so.

Elwis nudged Halthor in the left leg with a whine. Halthor looked down. "Alright, boy," he said, "I'm moving." He turned and began walking across the snow covered ancient battlefield. He paused a moment to sling the shield with Olerand's device on it across his shoulders. He wasn't sure how the count would greet him when he came back with his great-grandfather's arms slung across his back. He was just a builder caught up in a whirlwind of strange events. The fey dog trotted unerringly forward unto a hollowway through the trees that Halthor hadn't seen. Halthor decided that the dog knew where they were going and if he were lucky, Elwis would lead him to a traveler's rest before sundown. Because it was shortly past noontide and Halthor was already tired.

The Iron Lily: Part 25 – Lord Stone and Elwis

Elwis trotted up to Freystein from the far side of the battlefield. As the dog did so, his red ears drooped and his tail wasn't wagging. If Halthor was correct, the elf-stock dog was afraid of something. Freystein leaned down low. Elwis gave a pained sounding yip. Freystein said nothing but looked at the dog in confusion. Elwis did so again, looking back towards their track through the forest. "THEY ARE THREE DAYS BEHIND US," Freystein said firmly, "IT IS NOT POSSIBLE THAT THEIR OUTRIDERS ARE AT OUR HEELS." Elwis made the same sound again, turning around in a circle. "I TELL YOU, DOG," the mountain troll said in an irritated tone "THE SEARCHERS ARE NOT THERE."

Halthor looked back at the wide path that they had left through the forest. Despite Freystein's efforts, they were still a mountain troll and moving through the lowland forest was difficult to do with out breaking some branches along the way. Up on the hill behind them, Halthor could see a gap in the treeline. Something was moving along that gap. Something large and fast was moving along their trail. Halthor felt the hair at the back of his neck go up as the wind shifted and a foetid scent blew faintly down to them.

"Freystein," Halthor said, reaching over and slapping the mountain troll's arm, "There is something coming. And it's moving quickly." Freystein huffed with annoyance and turned to look. Their craggy features first fashioned themselves into a squint and then into a look of shocked dismay.

"OH, THIS IS NOT GOOD. THIS IS NOT GOOD AT ALL," Freystein said, "HOW DID THEY FIND US?" Halthor bit back the droll comment that came to mind and looked at the mountain troll. "YOU MUST LEAD YOUNG HALTHOR TO OLERAND, ELWIS," Freystein said, "I SHALL DEAL WITH THESE TRAITORS. I TOLD MY CLAN TO KEEP TO THE MOUNTAIN BUT THESE GREEDY FOOLS SEEK MAN-FLESH UPON THE PROMISE IT WILL GIVE THEM POWERS. I CAN ONLY HOPE THAT THEY LEFT THE BLUE LADY ALONE."

"I thought mountain trolls were solitary," Halthor said. Freystein turned to him. Their expression was solemn.

"I AM NOT LORD STONE ONLY IN NAME. THESE YOUNG TROLLS ARE SEEKING BEYOND THEIR REACH. SOME ONE TOLD THEM HUNTING YOU WOULD BRING THEM GREAT POWER. GO BEFORE THEY ARRIVE, HURRY. YOU ARE SMALL, THEY WILL OVER LOOK YOUR PASSING." Halthor readied his hammer and brought the shield up to gaurd himself as he faced the coming mountain trolls. Freystein bellowed, "RUN, YOU FOOL. THEY'RE COMING TO KILL US BOTH."

Elwis nudged Halthor in the back of his left knee just hard enough to make it buckle unexpectedly. Halthor dropped to the ground as the first mountain troll burst through the trees. They were not as big as Freystein. Nor, decided Halthor, as human in apperance. Laying at Freystein's feet, Halthor was hidden by the jumble of skeletons that had been destroyed during the battle. Elwis hunkered down beside Halthor and Freystein stepped forward, putting themself bodily between their coming opponent.

Hidden behind the mountain troll, the builder from Starhaven had little choice but hope that he wouldn't be stepped on in the conflict. Olerand's shield covered much of his body. As he listened, Halthor wondered what Elwis was thinking. As he was questioning this, he slipped his hammer from the loop and quietly prayed to the Storm Lord for their safety. "HU-MAN LOVER," the young mountain troll called out, "WE COME FOR YOUR MAN." Freystein glared ferociously at the mountain troll the color of old granite and flint. They barely had a sapling's sprig to them. And that sprig of a tree was broken before it had met its prime. This was a sign to Freystein that the younger mountain troll was careless. Trees were a sign of prestige and maturity among moutain trolls. Only the youthful were reckless enough to fail to care for their trees.

"RETURN TO YOUR BROOD, SEEDLING," Freystein roared, deafening Halthor for a moment with his fury, "RETURN AND NEVER COME AMONG MEN AGAIN. THE LIES OF THE SHADOWS ARE LIES. NONE OF US HAVE GAINED POWER FROM KILLING MEN." The other mountain troll bristled at being called little more than a newborn by the elder troll. "WHAT OF YOUR SIBLING, DO THEY COME TO JOIN YOU IN YOUR FOLLY, AGAIN, SEEDLING?" Halthor wondered at the mention of the word 'again'. No sooner than mentioned, the other mountain troll youth came forward.

"WE WOULD HAVE THE MAN YOU GAURD AS YOUR OWN. YOU WILL NOT KEEP THE POWER FROM US," the second mountain troll called. Halthor looked at them and realized that they were twins. As the twins came forward, Elwis nudged Halthor hard in the back. Halthor knelt and sheltered himself and the dog behind the shield behind Freystein. The mountain trolls roared and ran at each other. As they clashed, the very earth beneath their feet shook. Halthor watched the fight with horror. Freystein threw one of the younger mountain trolls off of himself. The creature landed not far from Halthor. As they sat up, they looked around for something to use as a weapon.

They grasped at the shield only to have Halthor's hammer shatter their hand. Halthor couldn't tell what sound was worse, the deafening thunder or the sound of stone exploding all around him. The shield kept the brunt of the debris off of him and Elwis but a few shards cut his upper arm. The wounded mountain troll screamed in an awful sound. They brought their arm down to crush Halthor. The shield held against the blow though Halthor was driven off of his feet. Laying on his back, Halthor stared up at the young moutain troll reaching to grasp him with their good hand. Halthor simply threw his hammer in desperation. He wasn't sure if he'd strike anything or if he'd be crushed to death by the falling mountain troll.

The hammer whistled through the air and struck the troll in the face. They staggered back from the blow as lightning struck. For a moment, the world went white and Halthor was rendered deaf. Only the pain of his injuries told him he was still alive. The hammer landed in his hand and Halthor forced himself up to his feet. As he did so, he looked at his opponent. Where there had once been a mountain troll there was now a hillock of granite and flint with only the vaguest suggestions of possible humaniod features in the debris.

Halthor turned and saw Freystein locked in desperate battle with the remaining twin. "Oi!" Halthor shouted at the moutain trolls, "Looking for me?!" Freystein looked over their shoulder. As they did so, the younger mountain troll took advantage of it and struck a hard blow across Freystein's face. Freystein dropped to the ground unconscious. The younger mountain troll roared and began to run for him. Halthor gauged the rapidly closing distance and aimed. He threw his hammer with all of his strength.

The hammer struck the young mountain troll in the face. Their head whipped back and then came the thunderbolt. As the lightning slammed into them, every small crack that had been created with the blow of the magical hammer lit with light. And then they collapsed to the ground in a heap of pieces. The hammer flew back to Halthor's hand as Freystein stared in horror. Halthor caught the hammer and put it into the carrying loop at his side. He shifted the shield from his left arm to his right and walked up to the dazed mountain troll. Halthor knelt beside Freystein.

"Now they can't hurt anyone," Halthor said.

"THEY WERE CHILDREN," Freystein answered.

"They were monsters wearing the guise of children," Halthor answered, "I knew boys like that who burned the tails of cats for fun and grew into men who beat their wives and children."

"AND I?"

"You are my friend. I'd help you up, if I were strong enough," Halthor replied, "But I think our paths part here. You must check on the Blue Lady and then go to your people before some other older upstart tries to challenge you again." Freystein slowly sat up and looked at the remains of the two moutain trolls on the field.

"THIS IS A CURSED PLACE," Freystein said sadly, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT HOPE THERE IS FOR YOU, YOUNG HALTHOR. MAY IT BE THAT THE GOOD GODS FAVOR YOU."

The Iron Lily: Part 24 – Road of Bones

The shambling skeletal remains of the two armies that had clashed generations before on the field lurched towards Halthor and Freystein. "STAY BEHIND ME," the mountain troll commanded. Deciding that it was better to stay behind a mountain troll swinging a branchless tree trunk as big around as he was, Halthor moved to rear gaurd position. Freystein walked forward. With a mighty swing, skeletons were shattered and sent flying. Those struck by Freystein's blow did not reform. Those struck by the flying debris and were damaged, did.

"NECROMANCERS ARE NOTHING BUT TROUBLE, YOUNG HALTHOR," the mountain troll said matter of factly, "ALL OF THIS BECAUSE OF A NECROMANCER'S DEATH CURSE." They had advanced a good ways into the field when the undead began to surround them. Halthor crouched and moved backwards with his back to Freystein. "WE MUST FIND THE LICH AND DESTROY THEM."

"The what?" Halthor said, unnerved by the fact that despite how Freystein was knocking down vast swaths of skeletons, their number seemed undiminished. A skeletal hand grasped at Halthor. Halthor struck with his hammer and the sound of thunder filled the air as lightning split the sky. Smoking ashes remained where the skeleton was and a good number about it had been thrown back by the blast. They were not getting up off the ground, unlike the ones they ran into and knocked down.

"THE WIZARD SKELETON KING," Freystein answered, looking over their shoulder to watch as Halthor struck down another grasping skeleton. "OH, THAT WILL DRAW HIS ATTENTION. GOOD THINKING."

"Draw his attention?!" shouted Halthor in dismay, "I thought we were trying to just get out of here."

"WE CAN NOT LEAVE A SKELETON ARMY TO RAMPAGE THE WOODS. THAT WOULD SIMPLY BE RUDE OF US TO LEAVE SUCH A MESS," Freystein said, "THE BLUE LADY WOULD BE MOST DISPLEASED WITH US." Halthor shoved a couple of skeletons into each other with the shield and watched as a shockwave moved through the press, many falling. "I LIKE THAT. YOU SHOULD DO IT AGAIN BUT THE OTHER WAY." Halthor dodged another grasping hand and smote the skull attached. Lighting flashed, thunder crashed, and bones were dashed to pieces.

"What other way? They're coming from everywhere, Freystein!" Halthor shouted. A skeletal creature, which Halthor could only assume was once a horse, attempted to bite him. Halthor swung his left arm up and staggered back with the force of the blow against his shield. Halthor felt something pushing and attempting to pull on the shield. Fixing his shoulder against the shield, Halthor pushed back as hard as he could. He nearly stumbled as the resistance fell away. He looked over the top of the shield for a moment. The builder could see the forces marshalled against them attempting to swarm over them again.

Halthor accidentally struck the shield with his hammer. A noise like the toll of a great bell sounded. From where Halthor stood, a wave washed over the foes he was facing. The skeletons disassembled themselves and fell lifeless again to the ground. Realizing that striking the shield was what did this, Halthor turned to the left and did it again. Again a vast number of skeletons dropped. He turned to the right and repeated the process. "Freystein, let me in front," Halthor said.

"NO," the mountain troll answered, "TOO DANGEROUS."

Halthor tried to look around Freystein and saw what appeared to be a gaunt spectre towering over the moutain troll. "Suddenly, I have the greatest desire for fowl," Halthor said. The mountain troll paused in mid swing.

"WHY ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT FOOD AT A TIME LIKE THIS? I TOLD YOU THAT YOU DID NOT EAT ENOUGH EARLIER."

"Duck, Freystein," Halthor said. The mountain troll turned, looking at Halthor in confusion. As they shielded their charge with their body, Freystein stooped to try to hear him better. Realizing that he had the space to throw the hammer at the specter, Halthor did so. The hammer spun through the air before it slammed into the filmy gauze that remained of the necromancer turned lich's clothes. As it struck the skeletal remains of the specter, lighting cleaved through the air and the clothes turned into a ball of fire.

An inhuman scream of agony filled the air. And then everything stopped. All of the skeletons collapsed to the ground. Halthor held up his hand and Freystein turned, only to duck quickly as the hammer whistled over their head and back to Halthor's hand. The mountain troll reached up a hand to pass it over their head where the hammer just missed them. "BE CAREFUL WITH THAT LITTLE HAMMER, HALTHOR," Freystein warned, "IT CAN SPLIT MOUNTAINS IF NECESSARY."

The Iron Lily part 22 - The Unquiet Field

Freystein lifted an arm and pointed to an open space among the trees. "THERE LIES MANY BONES. GRIFF SAID A GREAT BATTLE WAS FOUGHT ONCE. THE BONES OF MEN AND BEASTS LAY THERE SUCH THAT GRASS WILL NOT PROPERLY GROW," they said. Halthor resisted the urge to pull himself up to standing to attempt to peer over the mountain troll's head at where they pointed. "I HAVE WALKED THAT FIELD. THINGS ARE STRANGE THERE. I LIKE IT NOT. EVEN THE WIND BLOWS QUEERLY."

"Can you bring me there?" Halthor said, remembering the Blue Lady's talk of the battle where Count Olerand's great-grandfather had fallen in. Freystein turned their head and peered over their shoulder at Halthor. "Or at least bring me near enough I have safe passage?" Halthor asked. Freystein turned their gaze back at the snowbound field.

"I WILL BRING YOU TO THE TREES BUT I WILL NOT GO IN THAT FIELD. SOMETHING EVIL LIES THERE, WAITING FOR SOMEONE." Freystein answered. The mountain troll followed a wide path beneath endless evergreens. It seemed only a few paces and then they were at the edge of the field. Halthor carefully climbed down Freystein's side as the mountain troll stooped. They straightened and looked at the snow covered field. "I ADVISE YOU NOT TO TRESSPASS ON THIS CURSED GROUND, YOUNG HALTHOR." Halthor looked up at Freystein.

"I'm not so young," Halthor answered and the wind began to blow across the field. The sounds of combat met his ears. Halthor looked over and saw only the white expanse between the trees. Uncomfortable with this clamoring where there appeared to be none causing it, he slipped his hammer from its carrying loop. Freystein took a step back deeper into the treeline. "That is the sound of men," Halthor said, "Of many men in battle."

"I LIKE IT NOT. I WILL WAIT HERE IN THE SILENCE OF THE TREES," said the mountain troll. Halthor looked down at Elwis. The dog seemed untroubled by the clamoring of phantom soldiers. Deciding that if the dog wasn't troubled, he would just ignore the noise and walk the field, Halthor stepped forward. A sound like a great rushing wind rolled over him. Then the world moved sideways and the season changed. Halthor found himself standing at the edge of a great battle.

A banner with the white flower of house Olerand on sable ground flapped near him. The carrier lay bleeding on the ground, having used the last of his strength to stab the pole end into the earth. Deciding that Olerand's great-grandsire had to be somewhere near by, Halthor walked towards the doomed battle. A horse came clattering towards him and Halthor jumped out of the way. The builder looked up to see a tall man wearing plate armor rush past. Halthor watched as the rider clashed with another rider. Halthor saw a group of horses in a tight formation about a central rider under heavy assault. Halthor tried to see through the group to who was in the center of the knot of roiling violence. A flash of black and white told him that a noble of house Olerand was there.

Unsure of what to do, Halthor looked over at the banner planted beside him. He grasped the haft of the pole to free it and his passed through it as though it were but a shadow. Halthor turned and walked towards the combat and he heard the sound of the phantom arrow before it passed through him. The strange experience assured him that he was as safe as he could be walking through the field. He approached where the knights and their lord struggled. None saw or noted his passing, it was as though he was as much of a phantom to them as they were to him. Halthor carried the hammer in his right hand and tried to will the tension out of his shoulders. The constant noise of combat made him uneasy more than the phantoms of the combatants. He reached where the man wearing the colors of Olerand was on his horse.

A shield of a sort that Halthor hadn't seen before was on his left arm. Square and emblazoned with a stylized white lily and the white flower of Olerand on black, it was a striking sight. And then that sight dropped to the ground as an axe hewed the arm from the shoulder. Halthor tried to will himself to go into the melee to retrieve the shield. The sight and sounds of horses screaming along with those of men made him break out into a cold sweat. Elwis nudged Halthor and he looked at the dog. Reassured by the dog's presence at his side, Halthor reached out and grasped at where the shield would have fallen. His hand met snow. Halthor dropped his hammer into its carrying loop and began to dig in the snow. All around him the battle continued on in some kind of endless chaos.

Halthor's hands met metal that was bitingly cold. As soon as he did that, the illusion fell away and the sounds of combat turned into the moaning of the wind. Halthor dug in the snow and freed the shield. Beneath it, the bones of the former owner crumbled to dust. He pulled it up and an eerie feeling rolled over him. Halthor slipped his left arm through the straps of the shield to find that they were sound. The feeling that something was watching him grew stronger. Elwis whined at Halthor's side. Halthor looked around.

Upon the field, which was now properly snow covered, Halthor could see there was a shuddering over the snow. "Time to go," he said to Elwis and bolted to his feet. Though the shield was awkward to carry on his left arm, Halthor proceeded to run. Behind him, skeletons begain to rise out of the snow. Halthor paused as he reached where the banner of Olerand had once been and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the skeleton army lumbering towards him. "Freystein!" Halthor shouted, "Time to go!"

The mountain troll came forward with a large log in hand. "NO, TIME TO FIGHT," they pronounced solemnly. Halthor groaned.

"I should have known you were going to say that," he muttered as he pulled his hammer from its loop and turned to face the horde.

The Iron Lily: part 21 – Lord Stone, the Foundling

When Halthor woke, he found himself feeling stiff and uncomfortable. He moved to stretch and realized that the fire's smoldering ashes were near his feet. He looked up at Freystein's face. By the light of day, he could see that craggy face was a bit more humanoid than it seemed in the dark. With their eyes closed, the mountain troll seemed a carved statue, perhaps a grotesque that would have graced one of the high arched roofs of the temples. The mountain troll was perfectly still. Halthor questioned of the mountain troll was perhaps sleeping. He carefully stood up and found himself at eye level with the gigantic head that was resting upon a forearm, creating something of a roof over him to shelter Halthor, the dog, and the fire from the gently falling snow.

Halthor questioned how the mountain troll knew his name. He wondered what they had meant when they had said that Griff had sheltered them. More questions came to mind as Halthor looked about, first being how exactly was he going to relieve himself with out offending the mountain troll. Halthor turned around and found that Freystein had opened their platter sized eyes. "I WAS HOPING YOU WOULD WAKE SOON. WE HAVE FAR TO GO. WE MUST BREAK OUR FAST AND THEN PREPARE TO GO ONWARDS." Freystein boomed. Halthor's ears rang and he nodded in agreement. Freystein opened their arms and arose to their feet. The snow that had drifted up against their right side collapsed upon itself into a pile that nearly threatened the fire. Freystein reached out an enormous finger and carefully moved the entire pile of snow aside, revealing the grass hidden down below.

"Just what do you eat?" asked Halthor, doing his best to keep his sudden bout of nervousness out of his voice. Freystein smiled and gestured towards a tree. "You eat trees?" he said in confusion. Freystein chuckled and walked over to a gnarled, dead oak. Gripping the trunk at its base, with a grunt, the mountain troll pulled it free from the ground. Dirt fell off of the roots and scattered everywhere as Freystein walked back to Halthor.

"TREES FEED ME, I FEED THE TREES," they said. "MEN EAT FLESH AND GRAIN. TROLL KIND EAT TREES AND STONES. THE STORIES OF TROLLS EATING MEN ARE MOSTLY UNTRUE." Halthor squinted at Freystein. After an awkward moment, Halthor realized that the mountain troll was making a joke and shook his head. Halthor walked over to a clump of bushes and attempted to discreetly attend to his bodily needs. As he was doing so, Freystein said, "MEN ARE LIKE CATS AND HIDE THEIR LEAVINGS. YOU STILL REMEMBER BEING PREY. IT IS WHY YOU SURVIVE." Elwis had the audacity to piss on Freystein's right leg. The mountain troll looked down as it turned the tree in its hands around so that the roots were upward. Halthor found himself deeply concerned that Elwis wasn't long for the world but then Freystein laughed. "DOGS DO NOT CARE ABOUT POLITENESS, DO THEY?"

Halthor settled his clothes and rubbed his hands in the snow to clean them. He then walked over to where his pack sat beside Freystein. "GRIFF FOUND ME AS A YOUNGLING, A VERY SMALL YOUNGLING." Freystein said as Halthor rummaged around in his pack and pulled out a flask of ale and a loaf of bread. "HE KEPT ME IN HIS HOUSE UNTIL I WAS AS BIG AS HE WAS. HE THEN BROUGHT ME TO THE FOREST AND TAUGHT ME TO FORAGE. GRIFF WAS A GOOD FRIEND. HIS WIFE CALLED ME HER STONE BABY." Freystein smiled and took a bite out of the rootball of the tree. A noise like stones grinding together came from their mouth. "WHEN I HAD GROWN BIGGER, THEY CALLED ME LORD STONE. I TRAVELED FROM FOREST TO FOREST. I CARRIED NEWS FROM TRAVELERS TO GRIFF." Freystein said around a mouthful of roots and rocks. They swallowed and looked down at Halthor. "WHY ARE YOU NOT EATING?" Halthor looked down at the loaf of bread in his hand and shook his head slightly, as though waking from a dream. He broke off a section of the loaf and tossed it to Elwis. The red eared dog began eating the bread with a small growl. It was clear that Elwis wasn't pleased with the loaf of bread portion for his meal. Elwis finished tearing at the bread and began to sniff the ground. After a few moments, the dog began to trot in the direction of a rise in the snowy ground. It began to dig and soon a rabbit came popping out of the ground at a place near Halthor.

Freystein dropped a hand down around the rabbit. Halthor winced as his stomach roiled, fairly certain that the rabbit was nothing but red ruin. Elwis came over to Freystein's hand and began to dig under it and there was the muted sound of a scuffle shortly after under Freystein's hand. Freystein continued to leisurely chew on the tree in their other hand. They lifted their left hand from the ground and revealed Elwis tearing at the freshly killed carcass of the rabbit. "You've done that before?" Halthor asked.

"ELWIS AND I HAVE TRAVELED TOGETHER. GRIFF SAID THAT HE IS A SPECIAL BREED. ELWIS IS SMARTER THAN MOST DOGS. BRAVER THAN MOST TOO." Freystein replied. "GRIFF TOLD ME TO FIND ELWIS WHEN THE BAD MEN CAME THROUGH WYE. I RETURNED TO WYE AS GRIFF WAS DYING AND WYE WAS BURNING. HE GAVE ME THE DAUGHTER OF ALYRIN. HE TOLD ME TO BRING HER TO THE BLUE LADY AND THAT I WOULD FIND YOU THERE. HE SAW YOU IN THE BLACK MIRROR AT THE FAIR HOUSE." Freystein chewed on the middle portion of the tree and looked at Halthor. "YOU DID NOT KNOW GRIFF WAS A HUNTSMAN, DID YOU?" Halthor shook his head.

"HE SERVED THE STORM LORD AS YOU DO NOW," Freystein said, "WE SHOULD LEAVE NOW. A STORM WILL COVER OUR TRACKS IF WE DO." Freystein crouched down and held an arm out beside their side. Elwis whined and Freystein looked down at the dog. "NO, THIS IS BETTER." Halthor didn't have to wonder what the elf-dog was complaining about. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of riding on the mountain troll's back again either. Still, with a sigh of resignation, Halthor picked up Elwis and clambered up the mountain troll's side after putting on his pack. "YOU DID NOT EAT MUCH," Freystein said as they began to walk. The rolling gait of the mountain troll covered ground faster than Halthor could at a run, but it was enough to make him feel mildly sick as he swayed from side to side slightly with his arm and legs wrapped around the sapling growing from Freystein's shoulder. "ARE YOU WELL?"

"I'll be fine once I'm on the ground again," Halthor answered. Freystein's great head bobbed up and now and it seemed to make the world rock a little harder. Halthor's stomach clenched. Deciding it was best not to engage the mountain troll in conversation as they traveled, Halthor held on and watched the trees and meadows pass by.

The Iron Lily: Part 20 – A Knock at the Door

Halthor was about to say something when an unexpected sound interrupted the pleasantries. Something struck the door of the stone house with enough force that it rattled on its hinges. Halthor reached for his hammer only to realize it lay across the room. The door was stricken again with the same degree of force. The voices outside had gone silent. Only the massive blow's echo and the crackling of the fire met their ears. The Blue Lady rose to her feet. Halthor was on his feet and striding across the room to grab his hammer from where it lay when the third blow struck and the wood groaned.

"The axe," the Blue Lady said, "Lend it to me. Me thinks the latecomer is more than a match for your hammer." Halthor held the axe out to her and picked up his hammer when a voice bellowed. At first the voice was so loud that Halthor couldn't understand what it said. Then it called out again as though thunder could speak, calling his name. Halthor took the axe and held it out to the Blue Lady. As she took it in her hand, an electric thrill ran up Halthor's arm. He took his hammer and stood beside her at the ready as she approached the door. The Blue Lady held the axe hidden in the folds of her gown as she opened the door.

A creature that seemed made of stone crouched at the door. It's face was as though partly carved and partly weathered out of a great slab of grey rock. Lichens were over its body and Halthor was almost sure he saw a sapling sprouting up out of its back. The massive arms were long enough that even if the creature stood at full height, the hands would be below its knees. The creature wore a rough garment of some kind, or perhaps it was just the play of shadows over the angular and jutted out lines of its limbs. "I COME FOR HALTHOR," the creature bellowed. The Blue Lady seemed unperturbed after laying eyes upon the creature.

"You were not due for two days from now," she said to the being.

"GRIFF OF WYE IS DEAD. I BEAR THE SISTER TO HER SISTER AND MISTRESS. HALTHOR MUST GO NOW."

The Blue Lady blinked. The creature opened its large hand and sitting in the hallow of the palm was the twin of the axe the Blue Lady was holding. She reached forward and picked it up.

"YOU BEAR THE TWINS NOW. HALTHOR MUST COME."

"Wait, Freystein, what happened to Griff?" she asked. Freystein shook their great head. "I am the destined bearer of the twins?" she said in confusion. Freystein made an impatient noise and gestured at Halthor. "Very well, but the man must sleep. He is not trollkin or of my folk. Leave at dawn."

Freystein glowered. "BAD MEN COME BEHIND ME. THEY RIDE SWIFT AND FOUND THE HIDDEN PATH." The Blue Lady's expression became one of alarm. She turned to Halthor and made a shooing motion.

"Go, gather your things. Leave with Freystein. They will bring you to the Unquiet Field. You haven't much time if they are on the road we have come." Halthor turned to take his pack when the sound of voices shouting came. The troll named Freystein turned to face the newcomers. Freystein gave a mighty roar. The rider's horses panicked. They had been trained for combat but not for mountain trolls.

Freystein picked up a fallen tree. Using the ten foot long broken pine tree as a club, the mountain troll smashed it into the ground in the middle of the company, flattening one unfortunate horse and rider. Freystein swept the tree to the left and another of the party died. His mount was not as lucky. The third and fourth members of the pursuit party turned to flee. Freystein gave another roar as they threw the tree after the retreating humans.They were knocked off of their horses. One was trampled. The other scrambled to his feet to run. Freystein reached him in a stride.

"NO MAN, I SHALL CRUSH YOU FOR KILLING GRIFF." The man in Freystein's grip gave an agonized cry as the mountain troll avenged his friend. Halthor watched the horrific violence of the mountain troll's wrath in mute terror. Freystein's hand was wet with blood and gore. The mountain troll wiped their hand on the snowy ground, leaving a shallow trench behind in the meadow.

"OTHERS COME. HALTHOR MUST LEAVE NOW." The Blue Lady nodded in agreement. "YOU HOLD THE REAR LINE." The serene expression that the Blue Lady wore earlier returned. She crossed the hand axes over her chest and gave a small half bow. Halthor picked up his pack and settled it on his shoulders. He had no idea what had become of the pony or the dog. For all he knew, the mountain troll could have eaten them. When Elwis appeared around the side of the building, Halthor gave a sigh of relief. The pony started to trot over when the Blue Lady held out an arm in a staying motion.

"YOU AND ELWIS CLIMB ON MY BACK. WE HAVE FAR TO GO BEFORE SUNRISE." Halthor slipped his hammer through the loop on his belt and an arm under Elwis. Awkwardly, he began to climb up Freystein's left leg. Freystein heaved a sigh. With unexpected grace and gentleness, the mountain troll reached back and helped the much smaller human. Halthor settled himself against the sapling growing up out of Freystein's right shoulder. With a lurch, the mountain troll began moving.

Halthor held on to the sapling for dear life as Elwis yelped in discomfort. Carefully, Halthor forced himself to relax his hold on the dog. The mountain troll did not move in a slow, lumbering fashion. It was instead this rapid, rolling gait that involved all four limbs. As Freystein clambered over hill and dale with ease, Halthor wondered what became of the night singers. "Where are the Shadow Riders?" he called to Freystein over the rush of wind.

"WECK-IN-WOOD HAS THEM AT THEIR EVES," Freystein answered. Halthor's arms began to tire. The strength of panic had long since waned and Halthor was unsure how long he had to hold on. The biting cold making his limbs numb didn't help his confidence in his grip on either the sapling or dog. "WE SHALL STOP NOW. WE ARE TOO FAR FOR THEM TO FOLLOW NOW." Freystein seemed to crash to a halt in the middle of a small glade. "MAKE FIRE AND I WILL SHELTER YOU." Halthor unclenched his arm around the sapling. Elwis yapped at him and Halthor let go of the dog. With a bound, the elfin hound lept from the mountain troll's back to the ground and sniffed at the snow. Awkwardly, Halthor slipped and clambered down Freystein's side.

Elwis brought Halthor a stick. He reached to take it and the dog began to walk away from him. "Not now," Halthor groaned. Elwis looked over at him and snarled around the stick before walking again. Halthor followed the dog. Freystein followed Halthor. They found themselves on the leeward side of a thorny hedge. Elwis dropped the stick and gripped another, larger one in the hedge with a growl. Realizing that the dog had found dry wood and a place where the wind wasn't as harsh, Halthor reached into the hedge and pulled out more dead fall. Soon, there was a modest fire burning. Halthor sat as close to it as he dared. Freystein came up very close to Halthor.

"I SHALL SHELTER YOU AS GRIFF SHELTERED ME." The next thing Halthor knew, the mountain troll surrounded him with its body and limbs. It was as though it was an embrace but there was a gap in the middle where Halthor sat with Elwis and the fire. The fire was not the only thing that burned. Halthor's eyes ached with weariness. Freystein's body acting like a hearth and chimney, the fire grew stronger and soon Halthor was comfortably warm. Halthor looked up at Freystein's craggy face.

"Tell me, how did you know Griff and how did you know to find me?" The mountain troll's expression seemed to be a smile but Freystein said nothing. Cautiously, Halthor leaned against Freystein's leg.

"YOU SHOULD SLEEP. TOMORROW WE JOURNEY FAR. I SHALL TELL YOU A TALE TOMORROW." Halthor nodded and mumbled something about tomorrow before yawning. Unsure if the entire experience was a dream or not, Halthor shut his eyes for a moment to stop the burning sensation as Elwis cozied up beside him. That moment quickly turned into the remainder of the night.

The Iron Lily: Part 19 - Guest in the Fair House

Halthor looked at the apples sitting in the bowl. "Are they tart?" he asked. The woman in blue looked at the apples and shook her head. "Why are they so big? What do you do with them?" He knew something of cider making because he and Alaric had to build a new cider press for the king's steward's son. The juice of the small apples that were dumped into the press by bucket full was so tart that it was nearly bitter. Alaric laughed when Halthor was duped into trying a taste of the freshest cider in Starhaven, raw tart apple juice. That was when Olren explained that the cider had to go hard for the flavor to improve.


Halthor was caught in the happy memory long enough that he missed at first what his hostess had to say. He realized that he was going to be confused anyways as she spoke of something called 'grafting'. Still, it was pleasant enough to listen to the beautiful elf-woman talk. There was a soothing, musical quality to her voice that put the voices calling out beyond the door to shame. Halthor leaned his head against his left fist as he propped his arm on the table and just looked at the Blue Lady.



She stopped speaking and looked at Halthor. He looked weary. The red haired man had a long voyage ahead of him still. His blue-green eyes had a far off look in them, as though he was thinking about something. His red hair was tangled but he wasn't filthy. He just looked like a man who had a very long day outdoors. The elf-woman folded her hands before herself. It had been a very long time since she had company. She lived alone at the glade where as her people moved northward into the high mountain forests. The rolling hills reminded her of their old home to the east. Looking at Halthor, she realized that she was lonely and this was why she was prating on about apple orchards.



She turned her gaze back to the food before her. With her eating knife, she began to carve the bird apart. The goose was as tender as it could have been. It was perfectly cooked, as was proper for her magic cook pot could do so with any food she put in it. The pot was a gift from her elder brother's wife who foresaw the journey west. She thought of Alyrin who passed her by upon the elfin green way. Her sister had a dear and deep love for the people of this land. The Blue Lady wore a solemn expression as she carved the goose. Then she set her eating knife down beside her bowl and dipped her fingers into a small bowl of water before drying them on a linen towel embroidered with a band of blue flowers.



"The Fair House has not had a guest in a hundred years. To my people it is but a passing sigh in life, but it is a long time to be alone," she finally said as Halthor immediately became attentive as her demeanor changed and through her silence, and now watched her earnestly. "My sister moves amongst men freely, skilled in the arts of disguise and secure in her power," the Blue Lady continued, "I have remained here waiting as she asked me. When our people went north, we stayed behind. Alyrin felt that your people needed a guide. I could not help but heed the call of the land. The waters sang to me. It was a song I had not heard before. They continue to sing to me, different songs every day. In return, I care for them. Alyrin the builder fashioned my brother's hall away in our homeland. She built this house for me. Alyrin's kindness I have never forgotten."



Halthor looked at the contents of the cottage with new eyes. He saw that each stone was laid in place upon bare stone, yet there was no gap for the wind to whistle in. The furniture was carved and joined together with skill beyond what he had seen under Alaric, who had been master builder of the guild for at least as long as Halthor had been under his care. Great pieces like the chair he had sat in earlier were carved from but one enormous bit of wood. As he inspected them more closely, he realized that all of the wooden objects in the cottage could have been disassembled and put together to make a single tree. Halthor turned his gaze back to the elf-woman sitting across the table from him. "Alyrin chose you for your craft and Father chose you for your heart," the Blue Lady said quietly, "I know not why you were sent to me."

Iron Lily: Part 18 – Sanctuary

The wind began to howl outside and Halthor looked uneasily at the door. "The shadow riders will not reach you in here. Even if I opened the door wide and stood aside, they could not enter. My home is inviolate and a place of sanctuary," the elf woman said as she checked on her bubbling pot of broth. "You have gained three days of travel by one walking the ancient paths. It is only right that you spend at least one of them in rest. The journey from Starhaven has been hard upon you. Tell me, does Elrian still sit upon the throne or has the unrest stirred up by the priests of the defiler reached the crown?"

"The king of Ranyth is the son of Elrian, Hogarth and he is an old man now. He is child less and has yet to publically declare an heir. He is sending me to count Olerand with this gem and nothing else," Halthor answered. The elf woman nodded her head slightly. "The black priests move through the kingdom stirring up trouble left and right. King Hogarth refuses to ban them, saying they are holy men, but the priests of Sigurt are beginning to vanish in the night. King Hogarth and the high priest Orian have argued bitterly in the chamber that Alaric and I were building for the king. Something about the actions of men are a reflection of the actions of gods. I don't know much about it, I spent my time on wood work."

The blond haired woman dressed in blue gestured towards her table where Halthor found a generous array of food before him as fine as would have been served at the king's own board. A stool sat beside the table. Halthor eyed it with some uncertainty. It was not as stable as he would have prefered but the other choice was to stand, for the fireside chair was too heavy for him to move. As he lowered himself to the three legged stool, he discovered it was more sturdy than it had looked. A bowl of steaming broth sat before him with a small round loaf of bread. Between he and his hostess was a roast bird of some kind glistening with juices. And a small bowl of apples sat on the table in a curious shade of yellow and red that he had never seen before, much larger than the ones he knew were put through the press for cider.

A cup carved from stone sat beside the bowl made from pottery filled with water so clean and clear that it shimmered in the light, which he only had seen rarely in the city of Starhaven. For the wells of Starhaven had a suggestion of iron in the water and in high summer a faint tinge of red to them. The Sweetwater was fouled by the city's sewer and no one dared to draw water from it. The pure streams that he could have found on his journey were covered in snow and ice. Thus, it was in the home of the keeper of the rivers and streams of the forests of central Ranyth that he experienced truly clean water for the first time. He sipped it like it was wine and marveled. There was no taste of iron or anything else in it. It had no scent of any kind to it. And in some way, it seemed almost sweet to him. "You say this is water, but it is unlike any water I have ever known," Halthor said. The elf-woman waved a dismissive hand.

"Water is water. The problem is what you put into it," she answered. Halthor looked at her curiously. "If the water is not fouled, drawn from the ocean, or tainted ground, you can drink it. You must clean the water if it is drawn from unclean sources. I would teach you this, but you can not stay long enough to learn how. Perhaps you shall return, Builder, and I will teach you another thing to build for the good of men."

Outside the wind grew loud and Halthor could nearly swear he heard voices in it. "I was waiting for them to arrive," the elf-woman sighed, "They travel faster than men because they ride the winds. They're an annoyance. A menace to good and decent people. And tragic souls that have become trapped between worlds who vent their fury upon the living." She began to eat her soup as Halthor tried to ignore the sound of a voice pleading for entrance.

"Can you send them beyond to where their souls would have peace?" Halthor asked. The elf-woman shook her head. She gestured at the food before them and Halthor resumed eating.

"Only a necromancer can do that," she answered, "But all of the necromancers I have ever known were more interested in trapping the souls to do their bidding. I doubt there is one who does not serve the darkness. All of them seem to be tangled up in the Defliler's work. If there were but one who was not, I am sure they are hiding so that the others do not come and destroy them for freeing the damned from their tragic fate."

The Iron Lily - Part 17: The Blue Lady

Halthor, upon his pony, followed the woman in blue along the path as the dog pranced beside her. The dog gave a cheerful sounding yip and the woman looked down at the dog. "I see," she said, "And what happened?" The dog yipped and then growled. Halthor shook his head at the sight of a person conversing with a dog. He recalled his own annoyed mutterances at the animal earlier in the day but honestly thought someone would be half mad to think that the dog of all animals could understand anything more than basic commands.

"Elwis thinks you're a bit of a buffoon but good hearted," the woman who named herself Blue Lady said with a chuckle. "He also thinks that your better with the hammer than the axe. I know nothing about the former but if you are the one who was prophecied to come, then the hammer was waiting for you all this time." Halthor gave the dog an annoyed look. Apparently the dog had a name and somehow this unearthly woman who shone beneath the dim shadows of the trees knew it, knew the dog's low opinion of him, and more about this prophecy he was stuck in.

"My Lady," he said in his most courteous tone of voice, "If the hammer was waiting for me, for whom is the axe waiting for? And what is this prophecy? Prophecies are dangerous things to be caught up in." Her blond hair shone and she seemed untouched by the cold, though she wore but summer weight clothes. Halthor on the other hand was shivering from the cold, annoyed with the wind whistling past his ears and thankful that at least his beard kept his face somewhat warm when the wind wasn't in his face. "I have come a long way and have farther to go. Ancient evil hunts me and I am in danger beyond any I have ever known. My only kinsman is dead. Aside from the dog ... Aside from Elwis and this pony, I have no allies that I know of except for those whom the gods put on my path," he continued, trying to keep his frustration out of his voice, "Pray, tell me what I must know to complete this quest and return home."

The Blue Lady stopped walking and turned to look at him. She suddenly seemed more intimidating despite her deceptively small build. Perhaps it was the pale blue light that shone in her eyes. Perhaps it was the stern expression on her face. Either way, Halthor suddenly wondered if he had made a grave mistake. "Halthor, son of Alaric the builder and Sigrid the fair, you have no home but that which the gods give you," she said, "You shall have no home but that which the high ones give until you complete your quest. The soul eaters pursue you to steal the shard you carry. You shall gaurd it with your life until it is given into the hands of Count Olerand and it is passed unto his heir and then the child born to bear it."

Halthor reined up short when she stopped walking. The pony tossed its head and whickered. It was the first noise it had made since morning. The Blue Lady looked at it severely. "He must know if he is to carry it to the correct person. Failure means the end of ages for it is among the last of the soul shards in the world," she said sternly as though correcting an errant servant. The dog whined and she looked down at the dog. Her expression softened. "I know, you have both waited long for him. I know he is not the hero you expected. But he is the one who Father had chosen."

"The last child of my Father shall be born at the close of this age. She will reunite the soul shard with the great shard of the world that should have been," the Blue Lady explained, "You are but a pawn in Father's plan against the Defiler. I am only a guide. I would pity you for your place in this, but greater things await you than you would have had if you remained in Starhaven." Halthor looked up at the trees. The wind moaned and sighed through the high branches of the evergreens. A holly tree with berries blood bright shook its branches in a hard gust. "Come, we have not much farther to go," the elf-woman said. Halthor stared at her as she walked several steps forward on the path.

"You are one of the Good Folk," he said. The Blue Lady rolled her cornflower blue eyes and gave him an exasperated look. Somewhere a wolf howled and Halthor's awe of the fact that he had met a second demigod was overshadowed by a desire to find safety. Halthor looked over his shoulder to see if the place they started from was still visible behind them, suddenly concerned that one of the shadow creatures may have found his path. He stared with amazement when he saw hills rolling away behind him and no sign of the wood he had begun on the evergreen path in. He was instead at the edge of a clearing on the top of a high hill where he saw a river winding between the lower hills below and a smudge at the riverside where smoke arose. "Is that Weck-in-Wood?" he asked quietly.

The Blue Lady took hold of the pony's bridle and urged it forward upon the path again. Suddenly, a road lined with evergreens of every kind surrounded him. "Do not go off the path," she said sharply. "I shall take the lead and guide you. The hour of dusk is drawing near. Even upon the trodden paths, you are not safe from the soul hunters." Halthor sat meekly upon the pony as his guide lead him forward what seemed only a few dozen footfalls. She stopped and there before them was a glade at the edge of another forest. A traveler's rest was there but it was not like the others he had seen. Where the others had been built of wood, this was built of stone. A sturdy wooden door was at the entrance, not a mere flap of leather to be pegged down against the wind. On the leeward side of the building was a pile of wood. Dusk was beginning to fall and the sky had just begun to take on the faint orange that heralded the rose of twilight.

"Quickly, you haven't much time," the woman with blond hair and dressed for summer said as she looked about them. Halthor dismounted and began to take his belongings off of the pony. "No," the elf-woman commanded, "Wood. Fetch wood and start a fire. I will bring these in." Halthor walked up to the pile of wood and pulled out a hefty armload. As he muscled it into the traveler's rest, he saw that the building could have been someone's cottage if one actually lived in the deep wood. He knelt at the cold fireplace and started stacking wood to make a fire. As he fussed with his tinderbox, the Blue Lady carried in some of his goods. It was once he actually had gotten a fire successfully started that he turned away. The last of twilight was beginning to fade from the sky.

He picked up a burning brand to carry as a torch to bear in more wood when the woman in blue stopped him. "The fire will burn until dawn. The hearth fire of my home does not go out when I am in it," she said. Halthor stared at her. He mutely replaced the wood back on the fire and sat down on the chair that was carved in one piece from a massive chunk of wood. "The spring where the river begins is in this glade. I have hidden it, but it is here. You will not want for water, or food. Like you, I eat." She then stood and got down an iron pot from a shelf that it rightly shouldn't have been sitting upon with more ease than Halthor expected. As the Blue Lady went from crock to crock she took a bit of this and that. She dropped items into her pot and then set it over the fire. "Good pot, boil a bit and make us a bite," she commanded the pot.

To Halthor's amazement, the pot was suddenly seething with a roiling boil and the savory smell of stew arose from it. "That'll be ready in a minute. I'm afraid I haven't wine. Sweet water, however, I have aplently." Halthor looked at the woman standing fireside. For a moment, he felt as he did when he was a small child sitting by his mother. The golden haired woman seemed talled for a moment and he felt a brief sense of a child's security of being home. The moment was fleeting and when it passed, Halthor closed his eyes against the sudden tears that threatened. The elf-woman gave no sign of noticing Halthor's moment of confusing memory and present time as she bustled about setting the small table for their meal.

The Iron Lily, Part 16: Daughter of the Wood

Halthor marched along the rough path that resembled a road towards the next arm of the forest. Davian's guide markers were fairly clear. The boulder at the fork in the road stood up as a white and grey lump a good distance ahead of him. The pony nodded as it walked behind him. The dog with the red ears seemed to bound happily. On the right hand side of the fork was the road to Weck-in-Wood. On the left hand side of the fork was the road to some town he couldn't remember the name of. Hyle, Wynrode, Wye, and Starhaven. Halthor supposed he had accidentally become a well traveled man in but a week. He wished he hadn't left Starhaven and stayed with Alaric. He wished that Alaric had told him that he truly was his father. He wished many things. Halthor, mostly wished it was spring so that he didn't have to trudge through the snow.

Halthor began to move off of the road and walk along the treeline west. He soon came to the end of the large meadow. "South it is," he muttered. Halthor's red hair escaped his hood to fall into his eyes as he started walking into the trees. As he moved forward, something crunched beneath his feet, muffled by the snow. Halthor looked down and realized that a very small brook had frozen over. Deciding that it was but dumb luck that he found the third trail marker, Halthor began to follow the narrow dip in the snow beneath the trees southward. The ground began to rise and Halthor found his footing getting uneven. He glanced over at the pony that was following blithely on its lead. The pony was moving as though the ground was even and the rise was far more gentle. "This is a stupid idea," he muttered to himself, but he mounted the pony.

"Go on with yeh," he said and found it was truly a better idea than he worried it was. The pony navigated a path that was beside the stream and buried in the snow. He marveled at how surefooted the creature was. He still was amazed that the pony could bear him with as much ease as a creature twice its size. The dog merrily bounded up the hill, almost but never quite getting underfoot of the pony as it steadily made its way. They had nearly reached the top of the hill when a figure came forward out of the trees.

The dog immediately ran to them, tail wagging happily. With joyful yips and yelps, the dog practically danced around the person waiting ahead of Halthor. A woman dressed in clothes better suited for summer stood before him. Her kirtle was sky blue with flowers embroidered in bands about the breast and the guards on the lower hem. The gown beneath was a darker blue. The woman's hair fell in golden ringlets about her face and a mass of longer waves down her back. A light shone in her eyes though she stood within the shadows of the trees. Halthor was uncomfortable with her lack of proper winter gear. Given his recent experiences, he wondered if this was one of the hungry shades that Ewen and Davion had told him about. He reined in the pony a good distance from the woman who had stooped to pat the dog on the head. As the dog bounded back to him in a clearly delighted fashion, the woman spoke.

"There is a better road for you to follow that your enemies can not pursue you upon. It will take you deeper into the wood but to the traveler's rest beyond Weck-in-Wood and Weck forest." Her voice sounded like the musical burble of water. Some hint of joyfulness hidden in her bluntly factual words, as though she held some happy secret about the place she wanted to lead him.

"You're talking about two days travel through deep wood with at least one of them where I build my own shelter, if the weather lets me," Halthor answered, not bothering to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

"You wear Alyrin's sign and carry a shard of the world that should have been. You can see truly through what ever glamour I would cast about me. As you would through the glamour that the dark ones would use. My sister's gift means that you may follow our roads through the forest to safety. I can guide you to the northern woods of Memmin. You may even find what is lost along the way. A shield was lost in the woods of Memmin during the last great battle. Count Olerand's great-grandsire dropped it in the heat of battle and none have been able to find it or the glade of slaughter where it happened. Perhaps you may find the vale of bones. You bear Alyrin's children who call out for each other. I am sure they will guide you."

"Who are you?" Halthor asked. The woman smiled. She gestured towards the stream. "You're the water spirit?" She laughed.

"I am a child of the forest. I gaurd the streams and waters of it. My name would be unpronounceable to you. Call me the Blue Lady as the villagers do. Just as I guide them to safety, so shall I guide you. For we must not tarry here longer because danger comes even into the shadows of my wood."

This is a two part post. Look for the second half next week. :)

The Iron Lily: Part 15 - Halthor the Haunted.

Halthor woke with a grunt when the door to the traveler's rest opened. The sun wasn't very high above the horizon. His sleep was by some small mercy free of nightmares, but it was not restful. Some new reflex drove Halthor to reach for the small axe at his hip when a figure entered the building. Ewen nodded at Halthor as he muscled in a pile of wood with his brother/cousin behind him, holding a slightly smaller pile of wood under an arm.

As they replenished the stock pile of wood, Halthor sat up. He looked about himself and found that his goods had been brought in. "The pony showed up when the night singer's fell silent. Ewen has him on the leeward side of the traveler's rest with some hay to crop. No sign of the dog yet," the second man said as he turned to shove some wood into the fire. The battered looking pot hanging over it swung slightly after a stick struck the base of it. Halthor could smell something in it. Probably oats and nothing more, he thought to himself as he stood up to stretch. "I threw some of the dried fish uncle sent with you in there just before we stepped out. I'm not much fond of mudfish but beggars and all that. I don't have any of the witchweed to make it taste any better. But it is better than plain gruel. Ewen said that it was important that you had more in your belly than oat porridge. Something about you going south to see ..." Ewen looked up at the mention of his name. He simply looked at his brother in amazement.

His brother waved a hand dismissively in the direction he was mentioning, completely unaware that the ferryman was looking at him."You said my name," Ewen stated in quiet astonishment.

"Yeh, what of it?" his brother answered gruffly, stirring the pot briskly. The sudden tension in the room made Halthor feel like dealing with the night singers would have been easier. As he made his way outside to relieve his aching bladder, he could hear Davian say, "I'm not deaf, you know. I heard you this morning." The door swung shut and Halthor made his way to a discreet spot at the side of the building to piss. He wasn't sure if his host and guide were going to be arguing or not when he walked back in.

Halthor wasn't comfortable with the idea of listening to what could be a violent argument when he needed someone to point out the road he had to take. In his moment of discomfort, he heard a noise behind him. Halthor looked over to see the red eared dog that had become his companion before passing through Hyle trotting over through the snow. The dog sniffed at Halthor's foot and then looked up at him expectantly. "What?" Halthor muttered at the dog. The dog lifted its leg and pissed on the side of the building. "Really? That's what you're about? Cold doesn't bother you, your pecker's got a coat," he scoffed as he arranged his clothes to deal with his own need.

The wind mercifully died down while Halthor was exposed. The dog sniffed at where Halthor urinated as Halthor tied the drawstring of his trewes tight. He resettled his tunic, jerkin, and coat over himself. Glad that he was wearing his split mittens, Halthor walked back around the side of the building. As he passed by the pony, he patted it on its side. The creature butted its head against his shoulder. Halthor paused and looked over. The pony shook its head and butted its head against his shoulder again. Halthor reached up and scratched the pony between its ears.

He thought about Alaric, his father. He didn't think that the master builder expected this to turn into such a dangerous journey. Halthor ran a hand through his hair, knocking back his hood. As the wind caught stray locks and blew them into his eyes, his hand rested on the pony's head. "What would he do with this?" Halthor said quietly. "Why didn't he tell me he was my father? Why didn't he tell me?" Halthor looked at the hammer hanging from its loop on his left hip. "Maybe he did and I just didn't understand," he sighed, "I'm a fool. I'm a cursed fool at that."

He thought he could almost hear Alaric scoff. "You're the one who sent me on this, old man," he muttered to himself, "Not right that you laugh at me for the trouble I'm in." The wind moved through the trees and Halthor seemed to hear a voice calling his name from the shadows. He turned and looked over. In the deepest shadows, it seemed there stood a man. Halthor squinted against the darkness. The figure looked familiar.

The longer he looked, the more the figure looked like Alaric. A sense of dread pooled in Halthor's guts. "You're not him," Halthor said. The figure waved at him with a sense of purpose, trying to motion him over. Halthor's hand dropped from the pony's head. As he reached down and touched the hammer, the figure's resembalence to Alaric diminished. The face was a mask of wrath as the beckoning gesture became one of challenge.

"Go back to the darkness," Halthor said and spat in the direction of the figure, "Tell your masters I'm not stupid." The figure seemed to grow larger as clouds scudded across the sky. Halthor took the hammer in hand and pointed it at the figure. "If you want a taste of iron, I'll gladly give it to you," he said. The eerie shadow figure split and vanished as a hard wind shook the stand of trees that gave it shape.

"I've got his hammer," he muttered as he slipped the hammer back into its loop, "And that is enough, I suppose." He stooped and walked into the traveler's rest. He half expected the room to be filled with gore after answering the shadow creature's challenge. It was how his luck seemed to have been running. When his eyesight adjusted after he shut the door, he saw that the brothers were sitting by the wood pile discussing something as they gestured at the ground with spoons as they ate from bowls. Ewen looked over and motioned Halthor over.

"Eat, we think we figured out the best way for you to get to Weck-in-Wood. You need to follow the trees, not the road. Stay on the field side of the trees. Come nightfall, you'll meet up with the road at the traveler's rest just north of Weck-in-Wood. After that, press hard through Weck Forest. The next traveler's rest is in the curve of the ox bow where the river loops into the forest. It's a harder passage but they won't look for you to go directly there. The rats of Wynnwode expect everyone to travel the road they'd tax us on passing."

The Iron Lily - Part 14: False Light

Halthor was on the predawn watch. It was decided between the cousins that one would gaurd Halthor as he rested for a time after they were awake. The fire had consumed a goodly lot of the wood piled at the windward side of the building. All night, he had evil dreams. Visions of war filled his sleep where figured of astounding inhuman beauty battled each other in terrifying slaughter of any who were between them. He saw a black haired woman clad in bright armor bearing a sword he was sure was barely into womanhood. Still, in his nightmares, this young woman rode screaming into battle with a taller woman of inhuman grace at her side, also wearing armor. Both suits of armor bore stylized images of leaves upon them and were so finely crafted that Halthor was sure no human hands could manage such a thing.

As he watched the embers of the fire glow, all he could think of was this young woman that could have been his own child leading a howling horde of men into battle against another group with which there were two of the terrifying but beautiful people arrayed in black. He tried to tell himself it was just a dream. He did his best to tell himself that no one would let a mere girl dally with such men let alone take arms and attempt to battle them, nay, lead them in battle. Halthor shuddered.

Outside, the voices on the wind began to stop begging for entrance. They sang of dawn and daylight. They called out for him to step out into the day. Halthor's right hand gripped and released the haft of his hammer rhythmicly. It wasn't a conscious gesture. "I wish they'd shut up and let me think," he muttered. Ewen scoffed in his bundled up blanket.

"That'd make it easier. You sleep and I'll mind the night singers," the ferryman said. Halthor looked over at him as he sat up. Ewen paused a moment and tipped his head slightly to the right to listen better. "They're singing of day break. That's a good hour off. This is when they get you," he said, shaking his head, "You hear a choir singing of dawn and rising light. It sounds beautiful and as though it was a thing of the world that should have been. Then you open the door and the screaming horrors come in. And slaughter comes with the wind that puts out most of your hearth light."

Halthor looked over at him. "I thought that was just a story," he said.

"After last night?" Ewen said dryly and Halthor looked mildly chigrined. Ewen waved a hand. "It's a good hour to be up. Then I won't be away from Grand-da too long. Last night was not good. I am concerned for him."

"What happened to your father? Was he a priest as well?" Halthor asked. Ewen shook his head. He looked over at the door that rattled slightly with the force of the wind blowing on it, making it press insistently into Halthor's broad shoulders.

"I was seven. I woke up early because I hear voices singing. I wanted to see who was singing so early in the morning. I opened the door. A woman walked in with her feet not touching the ground. She opened her mouth and it was full of teeth like knives. I screamed and ran. Grand-da heard my scream and my parents. Uncle Mavora ran in and pulled him out as the gore eaters were clawing for him. They ripped out uncle Mavora's tongue as he threw Davian to safety. Stag's grace that dawn came when it did, for they very nearly pulled my uncle into what was once my home." Ewen looked at his cousin that was also his brother. "Until we were of age, I was raised by Grand-da and Davian by Mavora. Then my older brother came here to mind the traveler's rest. I became the ferryman after an arguably short apprenticeship and uncle Mavora went into the temple. Davian doesn't think of himself as my brother. We were but a year a part. Some thought us twins. I doubt that wound will heal. I understand why."

Flora et Fauna

Hey, I almost forgot about today's topic!

I wanted to give you the opportunity to name a plant. Let me describe it for you.

It is a vine that grows over all but sandy soil. The leaves are shaped like grape leaves but get up to a foot across. It bears no fruit or flowers. It will, however, spread through runners and broken vine pieces. It climbs up trees and has reddish-brown colored roots that grip the tree or other surface it is climbing up. It will strangle the trees it climbs up, like Virginia creeper. It is harvested and retted in water for the bast fibers which are used in rope making. Unlike hemp or flax, this fiber has a uniform and long staple length. The water from the retting process can be used to dye wool a dark brown color. When combined with black walnut, the liquid will dye most fabrics black, except for that which would have been made from the fibers of this plant. That just turns brown from the black walnut.

Undyed, the fiber is tan color similar to old hemp. The rope made from this plant's fiber is used for one thing officially, nooses. Unofficially, it is braided into hemp ropes to make them stronger and used to make sailcloth in the southern regions of Evandar and Ranyth. It is mentioned by is by-name 'sail weed' there.

My question for you is, what does everyone else call it?

Random Short : How the Scry Mirrors came to Ranyth

The hunter walked through the forest. With a careful gaze, they scanned the forest floor. In some surprise, they found signs of human passage through the trackless depths of the woods where the deer roamed in fear of wolves and the bears. Curious and deciding that following this trail was more important than finding a possible deer path when there had been none in sight for an hour.

Broken branches and brambles showed that whomever had passed by did so with no care for pursuit. A snag of red cloth flapped like a lord's pennant on a thorny bush. The hunter paused and picked it off. Ahead, they could see something red moving. They moved off the path and began to move alongside it. As the hunter drew closer, they heard a voice singing some manner of invocation.

At the edge of the glade where the sun's light broke through the canopy to fall in gleaming rays, the hunter saw a youth dancing in some manner of a circle dance. The young lad's hair shone like gold and bounced in ringlets on his shoulders as he skipped through the dance's movements. His high pitched voice rang clearly in the air and echoed off the trees. Strangely, the birds seemed to join in his song.

Fear snaked through the hunter's heart. Something of magic was happening here, or worse yet of the gods. Feeling as though he was in danger, the hunter began to slip back into the deep brush. Then the boy stopped dancing and looked straight at him, his song ending. "You have come as I have summoned," the boy said. The hunter was compelled to emerge from the woods. The red cloth of the boy's torn tunic looked all too much like heart's blood for the hunter's liking. He wanted to drop the cloth in his hand but his fingers refused to obey his will, clutching it tighter like some holy relic.

"Your quarry awaits you in the hedge of the river," the boy said, "But first you must send me home."

"Where does your mother await you, lad?" the hunter asked uncomfortably. He had heard old, old stories from his father of the walker in the woods. The one who demanded sacrifice of blood and flame.

"I have no mother," the golden haired boy replied, "Nor father."

"Where then is your home and who cares for you?" the hunter asked. In the distance, thunder rolled. The boy pointed skyward. The hunter shook their head. "No man lives in that place, only the Stag Lord and his goats," he answered.

The boy smiled. It seemed as though light shone with such brilliance it blinded him, though he could still see the boy. In amazement, the hunter watched as the boy leaned forward and was upon all fours. His form changed to that of a goat with a ram's horns. The red color of the tunic had transformed to a rich caramel color fur. The goat bleated.

"I can not kill a child," the hunter said. The goat brandished its horns fearsomely at him. "I reject this temptation," the hunter said. Thunder grew louder. The goat charged him and the hunter dove aside. It ran in a quick circle and came back again to charge him, all four horns ready to strike home. The hunter moved aside, grasped the forward facing horns and wrestled the goat to the ground. The goat bleated and kicked. The hunter continued to hold the goat down with great effort.

As rain began to fall, a man walked out of the trees on the far side of the glade."You have found my son," he said. The hunter looked over. The man's face looked familiar, but he couldn't recall why whilst holding the struggling goat. "Release him to me," the man said, "Your willingness to adhere to mercy is admirable." The hunter stood and the goat ran to the side of the man who was also dressed in red and had golden hair. "I shall give you a gift as reward for your mercy and care of my child," he said.

The hunter was blinded by the lightning strike and left deaf. He fell to the ground quavering. When his vision and hearing eventually returned, the hunter was soaked from the driving rain. At the center of the glade where the lightning bolt struck, was a glistening black thing. The hunter cautiously picked up the glass. He thought of his home and wondered if he was now too deep in the woods to get back safely. The black mirror seemed to have its surface ripple like water and then he saw the cottage of his father by high cedars. "Father will not be pleased," the hunter said, "My first hunt alone and this happens."

As he began to move along the path, he wondered if there was a way that took him to the place the child-goat said a deer waited. The mirror glistened and he saw the deer track that started not far from him. The young man put the mirror carefully into his pouch. He followed the track. It was a sudden surprise to find himself at the thick wall of brambles with the river flowing on the other side. With its horns trapped in the hedge, there was a great stag. It was larger than the hunter thought it could be.

Exhausted from its efforts to free itself from the hedge, the stag just stood there placidly as the young man walked up to it. Slowly, he drew his knife and slit its throat. A great wash of blood flowed as the stag sagged down to the ground to weak for even death throes. The newly blooded hunter struggled to pull the stag's crown free from the thorny vines. He pulled out the strange black mirror and said, "Show me my father, let him hear my voice." The mirror rippled and the hunter saw his father at work chopping wood. "Father," he called, "Father, come to the hedge at the river. I can not bring the deer home with out you." The image of his father looked up and looked around confused. The wood axe was set upon the sled the man grabbed and he began walking.

A noise came nearly an hour later from the hedge on the river side. His father called out for him and the hunter answered. The axe hewed a path through the thorny hedge and father embraced son with great relief. He wondered at the mirror and the stag. Working together, they freed the deer from the hedge and dragged it on the sled back to their home. Never in the rest of his days did the hunter forget the child-goat. And ever on did he keep the mirror secret in his home only sharing its knowledge in times of deep need.

Serial Stories Update!

Hi folks!

The major depressive episode that was approximately a year long is finally gone. Unfortunately, I've rather lost the thread of where I was going with both of the stories. This week, I am in the process of back tracking through the past installments. My goals are to reestablish what the plot was that I had been working on and to build upon it to get things moving forward again.

It may sound odd but these two very different stories are connected. And they connect to the main stories of the Umbrel Chronicles. In fact, there are going to be two major characters from books six and seven showing up once I reach the place that it makes sense for it to happen. There will be some other easter eggs between the serial stories and the novels. This is something that I do have fairly clear recollection of planning on doing.

The challenge is to recover what the mechanics of said eggs was going to be. Right now, they're scrambled. They say you can't unscramble an egg. A chemist once told me that with sufficient resources, it would be entirely possible to do so by way of breaking protein bonds. Now, what does this have to do with my stories? Precious little, because advanced chemistry is not a thing yet in this fictional world. But, if it is possible to unscramble an egg with proper resources and time, it is possible for me to unscramble my plot lines too.

I do have one other thing to add to today's post. I want to apologize for how whiny Halthor has been. It wasn't my plan for him to be at that point, but the character is morphing. I am realizing that there are some deeper unresolved issues that he is going to be struggling with along side the original adventure/mischief of fate plot line. Hopefully, I will get a better handle on it and try to move Halthor from the 'teenage angst' position to 'struggling adult' position instead. Because he's not a youth and his personality was supposed to be more goal oriented and classic hero stature, with a few twists. This take on the Hero's Journey is not quite going as I planned.

Oh, before I forget, y'all are going to love to hate Al-Uzza. She is based on some individuals I have known in the past with their worst traits mashed into one person. But, don't worry, unlike some others in this universe, she is going to get exactly what she deserves for her malarkey.

Have a wonderful evening!

♥

The Iron Lily - Part 12

Halthor's expression of pained grief made Moridan sigh. "Listen to me," he said to the builder, "When you reach Memmin, seek out Count Olerand. He should be able to help you. The journey to Memmin should not be gravely perilous but when you reach the flatlands, be wary of the ones who would offer to guide you. Look for the sign of the stag. If they do not have it, do not trust them. After you have found Count Olerand, you will know what you must do."

Halthor looked over at Moridan. "The hour of twilight has passed and deep night comes. Finish your fare, traveler," the old priest said, "You will have a comfortable bed tonight. The traveler's rest will not be quite so pleasant but my grandson will keep you well. The men from Wynnwode will seek to beset you at dawn. You will need to leave at the small hours of the night to avoid them. If the Light Father wills it, snow will cover the signs of your passing."

Ewen stood up, setting his bowl aside. "Father Moridan," he started when the old man lifted his hand. Ewen looked over his shoulder at the door. The persistent feeling that something ominous was waiting for dawn beyond the door. The ferryman looked back at his grandfather. "Grand-da," he said quietly in an urgent tone. Moridan frowned at him. "He needs to leave now," Ewen said, "Something waits and grows stronger as the night passes." Moridan looked over at Halthor and then back to his grandson.

"You must leave with him," the old priest said, "Guide him to your brother. You know the path and the dark should not be a trouble for you." Halthor looked over at the ferryman and noted his very solemn and troubled expression.

"What is going on?" Halthor asked. Moridan said nothing as he stood up. He found his way across the room and opened a chest. After shuffling a few things around, he stood up. The old man lifted a short spear from inside the chest. Halthor eyed the piece of equipment suspiciously, as he had never seen one that was shorter than he was tall before. The bronze head of the spear gleamed dully and Halthor questioned if it was even sharp. Moridan handed the spear to his grandson with a measure of finality in his gestures.

"When you return, you know what must be done. Your uncle and I will do our best to prepare," Moridan said as he set his free hand on the ferryman's left shoulder. Ewen nodded. Moridan looked over at Halthor. He made a gesture of blessing. "Go with the Light Father's blessing and mine upon you, young man," Moridan said. Mavora looked up. He saw the spear in Ewen's hand and sighed before shaking his head with a look of disappointment. He stood up and began filling a sack with foodstuffs. When he had finished, he walked up to Halthor and handed it to him. Halthor looked as though he was about to refuse this second sack of supplies when Moridan shook his head.

Halthor shook his head slightly with confusion and took the sack. He then found his goods where he had set them. Mavora and Ewen walked with him to the stable. Mavora loaded the pony with Halthor's goods and patted the hound that trotted up to him. The dog's tail seemed to droop and it looked as though it was upset somehow. Mavora turned to Ewen and clapped him on the shoulder. Ewen gave his uncle a brief, but strong embrace. The clouds above parted and the light of the mother moon and her daughter shone down brightly on the snow, making it seem almost as bright as day.

Ewen, bundled in his coat, heavy cloak, hat, and other winter gear looked apprehensive. When Mavora went back into the temple, Ewen took the pony's bridle in hand. "Come on," he said, "It draws closer. We must move quickly now." Halthor found Ewen's sense of unease contagious and he looked around himself expecting some foe to jump out of the shadows. As the pair moved briskly down the path out of the village of Hyle, Halthor's back itched between his shoulder blades.