The Northron Skein - Part 1

Cathal sails north on the cog Anora, pulled by duty and the desperate words of his blood-brother Fulgrim. He is accompanied, despite his wishes but perhaps to his relief, by his retainer, Dolan. It is mid-summer, and the Taeghan Seas are at their calmest, yet still the man-at-arms struggles with seasickness. Discontent with idleness, Cathal takes on duties with the crew, quickly showing himself, to their mild surprise, to be a skilled sailor.

A fortnight into their journey, Captain Aelfricg puts in at Tariene, in Northern Boeruine to take on supplies for the long trek around the cape of The Siren and through the Thaelasian Passage. They find the city in the midst of a summer fair, colourful banners flapping in the warm breeze above spired buildings and trees washed gold in the late afternoon sun-light. Cathal is struck by the beauty of the place, and counts it almost immediately as his favourite of Anuirean cities.

Cathal, under the name Matholwc Pynnead, secures a room for he and Dolan at The Siren's Eye, an inn of moderate means overlooking the docks. The streets, plazas and common rooms are packed with wayfarers, townsfolk, traders, and soldiers. Both Dolan and Cathal take note of a particular preponderance of soldiers and the two of them take to gathering information from their fellow travelers. Dolan hears that unrest is spreading through Rjurik, and the realm of Jankaping is in open civil war. Cathal discovers that the Archduke is sending men through the Five Peaks, and overhears a drunken soldier talk about taking the "wine and women of Alamie." Cathal and Dolan then briefly attend the summer fair, enjoying the food and music there. Cathal is disappointed to not see Tashairah amongst the musicians. Both are tempted to arm themselves and enter the tourney lists as mystery knights, but they err on the side of discretion. They retire to their room to prepare for their journey, and discuss the implications of Boeruine's troop movements.

Before sailing the next day, Cathal finds a ship heading for Taeghan ports and sends a letter, written in indirect Rjuven, to Dvorak, as an obfuscation, knowing Cuinn will be the one to translate it should it reach the dwarf. His words hide warning of Boeruine's pending encroachment on Alamie. 

He and Dolan board the Anora, noticing that Captain Aelfricg's crew are hauling a massive, ornate sea-chest onto the main-deck. As the crew fix the chest at the base of the main-mast with heavy chains, Cathal inquires of its purpose to the Captain. Aelfricg tells him it is tribute, and that he hopes not to need it. He then hands Cathal a length of chalk and tells Dolan and he to scribe their names upon the chest's surface, as the crew has already done. Cathal signs his assumed name, Matholwc, and hands the chalk to Dolan. The Anora sails north.

They pass the waters of The Siren without incident, but upon spying the coast of Halskapa, see plumes of smoke smothering the horizon. They hear troubling sounds carried on the winds, and as the light dies, they see the glow of what can only be massive fires lit against the gathering clouds. Cathal and Dolan share grim sentiments about the state of Rjurik. Suddenly, the ship is rocked by a massive wave, pitching hard to port. A deep voice reverberates in the wind, demanding tribute. Cathal looks into the water and sees a massive, coiling shadow lurking beneath the waves. Aelfricg hollers for help releasing the sea-chest. Cathal obliges and they hurl the thing overboard. The voice in the air offers spiteful thanks, and the shape in the water darts away with unnatural speed. Cathal asks Aelfricg what it was, and the captain explains that the Sea Drake, a great and malevolent awnshegh, demands tribute in gold from ships passing north.

The Anora reaches the Thaelasian Passage and is greeted by a burgeoning storm. They continue on to the port of Aaldvika. The storm intensifies, and Aelfricg orders the sails furled. Even Dolan lends his strength to fight the storm. The ship is carried further north, far off course, for a day and a night. A haunting, feminine voice calls out through the dark. A lament, sung in old Rjuven, pierces the storm. Cathal tries to interpret it, but can catch only bits and pieces, having little knowledge of the ancient tongue. As the winds intensify, the song does as well. The voice turns to anger, and the song to vengeance, and tenebrous forms climb out of the water into the darkened sky to surround the Anora.

Cathal screams to Captain Aelfricg to arm the crew; crossbows and spears are distributed, and Dolan brings up their swords from below. The ancient arm ring Cathal took from the Fulcairn treasury warms his wrist as a great, suckered arm descends to smash the deck of the Anora and wrap it in a crushing embrace. The sailors falter, but Cathal stokes their courage with brave words and he and Dolan strike at the great arm, attempting to cut it asunder. The beast's other arms do their work, clutching sailors and hurling them into the water below, or grinding them to slurry with the sawlike teeth of their suckers. Cathal and Dolan deal mighty blows, but cannot dislodge the arm. Cathal loses his feet, and slides over to the ship's gunwhales. Cathal watches as some sailors dive overboard to escape, only to feed themselves into the beast's gaping maw. Their bones crunch as it chews. The ship groans and tosses in its grasp. Then, Cathal spots the Kraken's eye. A great, rolling, angry moon of a thing, glaring up at him in ravenous glee. He climbs to his feet and raises his sword, but is grabbed from behind by Dolan.

"Are you fucking crazy?" the man-at-arms cries in his ear, but Cathal shakes him off. The Fulcairn raises his blade and invokes the gods:

"HAELYN! SKY-LORD! GRANT ME WINGS!

CUIRAECEN! BATTLE-FATHER! GUIDE MY BLADE!

NESIRIE! LADY OF WAVES! VOUCHSAFE MY PASSAGE THROUGH YOUR HALLS!"

Cathal dives from the ship as the last syllable thunders from his throat, sword blade-first, into the waves below. The current threatens to dominate him, to pull him into the creature's jaws, but he defies it with his corded strength and swims for the monstrous orb. He plunges his blade into the Kraken's eye, twisting and prodding, filling the sea with its ichor. At the sudden stroke of pain, the Kraken contracts its great arm, splitting the Anora asunder. Then, frightened, it releases a great toxic cloud of darkness into the waters and jets away, pushing Cathal in the great stream. Cathal struggles to the surface, choking on the beast's poison, only to be struck on the spine by a huge, falling piece of the broken ship. There is a flash, and then darkness.

***

The next days come only in flashes. Dolan, the only other survivor of the Kraken's poison, pulls Cathal behind him as he swims. They are both dragged to shore by the tide.

Cathal awakes and feels a sharp, throbbing pain in his back. Whatever struck him in the water has broken it. He finds Dolan, laying still, beside him. Cathal moves carefully to turn Dolan onto his side, then uses his blood's power to heal the loyal man-at-arms. Dolan vomits sea-water onto the sand, and admonishes Cathal for wasting his strength on him. Cathal tells him to stop complaining and find a way to keep them both alive, then passes out again.

Dolan eventually finds a small hut owned a tiny old Rjuven woman named Alfhilde, who takes them in and cares for Cathal while he heals. Dolan does what he can to help, collecting fuel for the fire and catching fish.

Cathal eventually awakes, and speaks to Alfhild. He learns that they are on a tiny island off the coast of Njorldar, a trackless and lawless province in northern Hogunmark. The land is tundra, and Alfhilde is supported by the aid of a Nomad clan who travel to her island roughly once each moon.

A few weeks pass. Cathal heals rapidly, thanks to his Anduiran blood, and can eventually walk with the aid of crutch. He helps as he can, but Dolan struggles to collect enough food for all three of them to eat.

One day, a small band of warriors arrive outside Alfhilde’s hut. They are not of Alfhilde’s clan. Dolan and Cathal hide, and the kind old woman attempts to hide them. The warriors are not swayed, however, and one of them enters the cabin to find Cathal seated, his crutch before him. The warrior steps forward and grabs Cathal’s hair, telling him it is time for him to die. Cathal lashes out with viper speed, the knife he had concealed beneath his fur blankets taking out the warrior’s throat, saying, grimly, “Tell your ancestors Cathal Fulcairn sent you.”

The brigand collapses, gurgling to the floor as sounds of fighting erupt outside. Cathal collects the warrior’s two axes, and hobbles outside to help Dolan.

Dolan is being waylaid by four warriors at once, but manages to slay one almost immediately. The others do not underestimate him, however, and surround him like a pack of dogs. Cathal’s divine blood boils at the sight of his loyal friend so outnumbered, and his fury raises him to his full stature. He kills one reaver with a single hurled axe, then, as the other two grapple with Dolan, he hobbles forward. He takes the face of the nearest with his other axe, then buries its blade in the spine of the last, who had pinned Dolan to the ground. Anduiras’ wrath fades, and Cathal collapses.

The rest of the month passes in peace. Dolan strips the reavers of their armour, weapons, and trinkets for trade with Alfhilde’s kin. The nomads arrive the next week, and Cathal speaks with them, revealing his true identity and beseeching their aid in guiding Dolan and he to Aaldvika. They agree. Dolan gives the nomad clansmen some coins from the warriors they killed, asking that they buy something more for Alfhilde the next time they pass through.

Cathal and Dolan outfit themselves for their journey, donning armour and taking weapons and shields from the men they have slain. They each embrace Alfhilde in turn, offering the wizened woman very fond farewells, then set off in the Nomads’ boat for the tundra of Njorldar, and Hogunmark beyond.

'Tis Time, My Love, For Me To Take The Sword

"Lady."
His voice, as ever, was the deep, gravelly rumble of a well-laden cart's wheel in a new-worn rut in the road, but as he perceived the lone figure, upright at her desk, back to the door and vacant gaze affixed at the shuttered window, it softened. She did not turn, but her posture relaxed, barely perceptibly.

"Lady." Adair tried again. "Reynhild."

She turned. She still wore the black dress she had donned when Corrac passed. Her eyes-- the colour of a forest floor, flecked green and brown and grey and amber and all their intermediate hues-- were no longer red and swollen from weeping. She just looked... blank, empty. He knew that feeling, knew that vast trackless space, knew it intimately from the inside. The room smelled musty, of closed shutters and dusty drapery, of a body that had forgotten how to do most things save continue breathing.

"Lady, it's a beautiful day outside. Won't you come for a ride? You could use the fresh air."

Elena's silhouette passed in the hall, her arms laden with laundered linens. Her eyes, now, were bloodshot and puffed from tears. But she heard him, and she nodded, once, at him, gratitude plain on her sweet, plump face.

Reynhild said nothing for a long moment, and he feared she would sit there motionless for an age, but to his immense relief, she stood, and followed him out the door and toward the staircase.

-----------

"What is that melody you're humming?" she asked, the first words she'd spoken in days. They had dismounted and hobbled the horses, and now they walked along the banks of the Bowstring in the sunlight. Buds swelled on the trees, and tan-and-black ducks bobbed in the river's slow green waters. Adair could sense as the woods eased her heart, at least a little. They'd done the same for him, when his heart had dwelled in the same dark place Reynhild's currently occupied.

"Oh, it's a song from Portage that they sing in Three Corners sometimes." He cleared his throat and sang; his warm baritone found the notes as easily and naturally as stepping stones in a familiar garden.

"'Tis time, my love, for me to take the sword
My father bore, down from the mantel high
And march beneath the duke's proud golden bann
E'en as the larks, through spring's first green buds, fly

A sweet eternity we tarried here,
It cleaves my heart in twain this day draws nigh
I leave the best of me with you, my dear,
E'en as the larks, through spring's first green buds, fly..."

The edges of Reynhild's lips twitched upward, barely, in the ghost of a smile, and his heart leapt to see it. "I've known you for three years and I had no idea you could sing, Adair."

He grinned. "Aye, lady, I can carry a tune. I'll sing you the rest tonight over the cookfire, after you put a few arrows through the fat young pheasant I see scuttling under that yew tree yonder."

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

As Cuinn rode west to Portage, making full haste, Aerona and Mara astride their steeds on either side of her, the worry tore at her heart. She could not help but glance north, where the dark fringe of the Aelvinnwode crouched like a waiting beast, and somewhere within it, a man still walked and drew breath, a man with the blood of the young Ghosts on his hands.

Unbidden, a melody came to her mind, graceful even hummed by her unmusical voice. It took her a moment to place it.

"Don't weep, my love, although today we part
For even if this is our last goodbye
Your face is carved forever in my heart
E'en as the larks, through spring's first green buds, fly..."

SESSION 34 RECAP

Cuinn prepares to leave for the northern woods to find and slay the Grey Wolf and avenge the Ghosts, but the young Ghost, Elgrin, stops her, saying she would only be playing even further into the trap set for her by the Archduke. Deeply torn, she sees the wisdom in his words, and decides not to go. Adair decides to go in her place. She agonizes over whether or not to allow him, but he tells her that the Ghosts are his responsibility and she has the fate of Taeghas to worry about. Again, she sees the wisdom in his words, and with difficulty, she lets him go, but not before Aerona blesses him with an omen of Cuiraecen.

Cuinn, Mara and Aerona disguise themselves as mercenaries and leave to learn more of the situation at Portage. They manage to cross the gates and are told by the Boeruinese captain of the guard that there is no work for them at present, but some may yet be forthcoming, and are told the location of both an inn where the Boeruinese soldiers congregate, and another where a troublesome local was punished.

They head for the latter (the Red Stag) and quietly order food and drink, and note that the innkeeper limps somewhat; they offer to help with his injury and he declines. They later leave to investigate the other inn, and find it a rowdy and merry place. Later, Cuinn takes to the rooftops to try and determine the layout of the city and the routes of the guard patrols.

Two weeks pass; Cuinn and Mara feel they finally have enough rapport with Cedric, the inkeeper at the Red Stag, to play their hand. Cuinn has determined that there is most certainly a contingent of the Portagers who wish to be rid of the Boeruine occupation, as well as their ill-loved lord, Geoffrey Khorien; she hints to Cedric that she wishes to help Portage be free of Boeruine. He immediately reacts with fear and suspicion; trying to gain his trust, they expose their identity, aided by a small show of Mara's magical power. Cedric offers to arrange a meeting with the captain of the Portage soldiers, Milena.

Several days later, they meet Milena and state their plan to reclaim the mebhaigl and attack Portage in order to drive the Boeruinese out, aided by the Portagers on the inside. Milena states that she will cooperate on the understanding that the military, not the nobles nor the commoners, decide who will rule Portage once Khorien is dead. She also states that one unit of Wilders will not be enough to ensure victory... but the Fulcairns only command a unit of archers and one of billmen, and committing both would mean leaving Wilder's Gorge undefended.

They Honoured The Forest

The wind rustled through the yew boughs of the small grove, and the light of stars and a crescent moon painted everything in the clearing silver. Appropriate, it seemed; some of Aeric's priests called the crescent moon Aeric's bow, and just beyond the clearing, the waters of the river the Wilders called Aeric's Bowstring lapped quietly against its banks.

They stood facing each other, only five now. Elgrin gaunt and barely standing from weeks of hard riding, Adair with his left arm atremble and riddled with ugly scars, Patches physically hale but eyes haunted, Telfyrdd a hardened, grim woodsman now, barely recognizable from the rosy-cheeked apprentice ranger of two years earlier. And Cuinn, covered in the dried blood of the Wilders she'd tried to save, of the Boeruinese marauders she'd methodically hacked the limbs from to fertilize the Wilders' fields, and her own, still blooming on the dressings of the vicious wound in her shoulder. Dirt and yew needles and dried leaves stuck to the blood; it half masked her face, she looked more a bloodthirsty wood-demon from Rjuven legend than a noblewoman. Braedon and Ceara were still unaccounted for.

And in each of Adair's hands was a bowstring, darkened with sweat and grime. It was all they had of Asha and Syggi. Elgrin had been forced to abandon Syggi's body and flee for his own life. Asha they could only presume had fallen to the dogs of the Boeruine army.

Elgrin knelt and dug two holes in the damp, black forest loam, and Adair pressed each of the bowstrings in one.

"They honoured the forest," Telfyrdd said. "I once watched Asha climb up a spruce tree as tall as the Keep roof with one hand, and a hawk chick in the other, to tuck it back in its nest after it had fallen out."

"They honoured the city," Patches said, her voice quavering. "Me and Syggi were just Stormpoint street rats before we came here. Syggi always talked about going back to Stormpoint to recruit more street kids."

"They honoured the common folk," Elgrin continued. "Syggi killed the Duene raider who had been attacking Wilder farm girls. She never talked about it, but I know she did it for them."

"They honoured the just ruler," Adair said softly. "They would have done anything for you, Cuinn. They would have been proud to have given their lives in the line of duty as Ghosts."

"They honoured themselves," Cuinn returned. "I'll never forget the day Asha beat that Brechtur archer and won the tournament. She was the best marksman we had. And I'll never forget how hard Syggi trained, and how she turned from a Stormpoint urchin into the finest of woodswomen. And so we honour them."

She crouched down and tucked a yew sapling into each of the holes in the earth, and patted the loam back around it, and tears washed clean channels through the dried blood on her face.

SESSION 33 RECAP

The magical explosion intended to assassinate Mara kills two Dragon Knights, but the Fulcairns, Thaliere, and the mage Zander survive. Cuinn entreats Thaliere to let her assassinate the Dragon, but Thaliere refuses, stating she has no chance and as head of her house cannot risk herself.

The Fulcairns hear of a prisoner in the army encampment. It proves to be a young apprentice mage named Dorian of Bayside; he is imprisoned because he attempted to desert to defend Bayside. They assure him that Bayside is saved and promise to try and help him if they can.

The army begins moving westward to Stormpoint. A rider intercepts it-- it is the Ghost, Elgrin. He bears ill news for the Fulcairns: an organized and well-trained band of marauders is laying waste to Wilder's Gorge, and a feared tracker known as the Grey Wolf has begun hunting and murdering the Ghosts. Despite the warning that they have exhausted their last chance with Thaliere, with scarcely a second thought, Cuinn leaves. She attempts to go alone, but stops to thank Elgrin and assure him that he has not failed her. The Wilder archers overhear, though, and insist on leaving the army to defend Wilder's Gorge, and Mara and Aerona insist on accompanying her. They free Dorian, Mara intending to take him on as apprentice, and Mara summons an earth elemental to clear a way through the palisade. The Fulcairns and their unit of archers head for Wilder's Gorge.

Western Wilder's Gorge has indeed been ravaged by the marauders, but mercifully it is largely empty, as the Fulcairns earlier encouraged the country folk to seek safety at the Keep. However, before long, they find the staked bodies of Wilder farmers. They press on despite exhaustion, and Aerona sends  a magical message to Adair at Fulcairn Keep, bidding him to take the unit of billmen and trap the marauders between them. They trail the marauders to a hamlet, but Aerona and Mara are unable to continue and fall back, exhausted.

Cuinn and the archers attack, and discover that the billmen have already engaged the marauders. The marauders are no ordinary bandits, and fight fiercely, but rallied by Cuinn, the Wilders prevail. Cuinn is seriously wounded in the fight. She is soon greeted by Adair, to her great relief. Mara and Aerona catch up; the three interrogate several marauder prisoners. They provide little by way of useful information, stating only that they were sent by Boeruine to harass Wilder's Gorge.

The Fulcairns and their warriors return to the Keep. Cuinn sends an inquiry looking for nearby mercenary companies, and writes to Lord Tychon, seeing how Bayside is faring and asking for possible aid in an assault on Portage. They get what rest they can before leaving to find the Grey Wolf and seeking vengeance for the Ghosts.

Hope

The worst was not the smashing of giant boulders on the walls. It wasn't the inhuman cries that men and women make when they kill each other, or the wailing of those hurt and dying.

The worst was the silence in between. Because no one knew when it would start all over again.

Lara always ran to her father's embrace every time it was quiet. His kneecap was ruined by an accident many years ago, and all he could do was help his wife don her arms and armor these days. Lara watched as his face became more grim every day, until one day she saw fear form behind both her parents' eyes.

When the silence came again, she buried herself in her father's strong arms. But this time, it was different. He was smiling, with tears of joy running down his eyes. For the first time in many days, he took her out of their modest home, with no fear whatsoever.

She could see men and women bearing the standard of House Tyc- Tah- something come back in the city, bloodied but relieved. She wouldn't know then, that while many defenders wouldn't return back to their families, there were a lot more that did.

What she did feel was her father's arms lift her high in the sky, and her mother raining kisses down on her - she was covered in soot, and she found that very entertaining. She laughed, and her laughter was infectious.

Her mother and father talked enthusiastically, and pointed towards a group of people entering Bayside. Wilders they were called, and they were the butt of jokes said all around Bayside throughout her young life. But now, men and women of Bayside were embracing, kissing and hugging them with gratitude.

It was then that she saw three women march proudly in front of the Wilders. Young women, but no one would mistake their youth for foolishness or weakness. A red-haired woman who seemed in absolute control of herself and the world around her. A silver haired woman who swelled with power and majesty. And a ginger haired woman who strode with confidence and almost swagger, a living tempest of steel and prowess.

Nestled warmly between her parents, in a city that would live free to see another day, Lara knew that she wanted to be just like those three women when she grew up.

Of Daughters and Dreams

Hurried, almost frantic footsteps ringing up the stone steps.

Round and round the winding Tower of Song in the Imperial City of Anuire.

Even before Harald Khorien had heard the steps, he knew what was coming.

"Archmage? The Emperor demands your presence." a servant's voice was heard outside his heavy oak door.

The chamber at the top of the Tower was his favorite. He could find peace there, away from prying eyes and ever-demanding attention. So close to his beloved stars, with an astrolabe built specifically to his instructions. He studied the constellations, surveyed the flowing fabric of mebghail and mused secrets that were lost to the ages.

It reminded him very much of his chambers at Stormpoint.

Yet another knock on the door. "Archmage? Are you in there?"

Word had reached the City of Stormpoint's fall. How Boeruine, the Dragon and two traitor houses of Taeghas had taken a third of Taeghas and its capital city. All in a flash.

If he had been there, this wouldn't have happened. But when he accepted the position of the Imperial Court Wizard, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep an eye out to the north. Far, far greater dangers now lurked beyond the borders of Avan's infant Empire; ancient monsters who spelled doom not just for the dream of a new Anuire, but for the race of men overall.

He thought of his daughter, who was born mentally handicapped. Cursed by the gods, the priests had said. He almost incinerated them on the spot. If the public knew, they would have come for her. Ridiculed her. Used her to destroy him.

So he wiped the priests' memories blank using forbidden sorcery. He loved his flesh and blood dearly, and made sure that she would have the best life possible, full of happiness. He kept her a secret from the world, gave her a privileged life when almost no other child with such difficulties had. And then she passed.

He kept the death secret from everyone. Instead, he focused to provide a future to another little girl. He saw in her tremendous potential, what his own daughter could have been - even though she wasn't his own. He taught her as much as he could, supported her and her family and then had to send her away when she wasn't ready. Like any parent does.

When he found out that she had taken all of the Taeghan Mebghail for herself, the first thing he felt was pride. So much pride that it almost made his chest burst. After pride, came fear. He knew that having such power made her a target. Had he given her what she needed to succeed? Most likely, no. But he accepted the position offered to him, as he had to move on from an empty house in Stormpoint.

He had covered for her. Vouched for her many times. He kept this last fact a secret from the Emperor. But now, civil war had erupted. And the Emperor found out about his omission.

And the Emperor demanded his pound of flesh.

"My lord?"

With that, Harald Khorien rose to his feet, taking a last, loving glance to a small locket in his hand. In it, was a painting of a smiling little girl from Wilder's Gorge. Full of love.

And then he answered the door.