Prince Henry Wynter was the Heir to the High Throne of the Heptarchy and prophesised to one day lead his people to unparalleled greatness. Twenty two years after he abandoned his destiny and his throne for the chance to be the person he felt he was meant to be, he finds that Fate has not yet finished with him. The events surrounding the proposed appointment of a new Heir to the High Throne have consequences that reach as far the remote farmstead refuge of the former prince and threaten to destroy the new life that she has built for herself.

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

The slopes of the Downs Mountain Range, Kingdom of Cantia

Woden's Day 24 April EY 2471 - Late-Morning

Hal closed his eyes and carefully massaged the bridge of his nose in an effort to ease the dull ache building inside his head. Slumping forward in his saddle, he listened to the sounds of his two companions examining an area of forest off the trail leading from his family's cottage down to the lower pastures. He couldn't stop his thoughts drifting to how much things had changed in his life in so short a time.

Two days ago, Hal Stockbury would have described his home life as happy but perhaps a little dull. It was mainly composed of chores around the farmstead, with a little leisure time to read or practice his martial skills with blade and bow. Hal had a childhood many would consider idyllic, raised in a home environment where love and laughter were commonplace. His parent's, who were still at times embarrassingly devoted to each other after two decades of marriage and four children, had little in the way of ambition beyond running the farmstead and keeping their children safe and happy.

The closest thing to excitement in Hal's old life was the tourneys held during each of the seasonal festival's in Sarsen and the twice yearly tournament in Wye. He'd even had a couple offers to join the service of landless knights as squires based on his prowess with the sword although to his disappointment his mother had refused the offers.

Now, two days later, Prince Henry Amherst longed for a dull life after having had to watch as Sergeant Ackers and her Yeomen of the Household make his life interesting in ways he had never contemplated. His father was dead. His mother had been abducted and his sisters and brother were missing. At best he only had a faint hope as to where his sisters and brother might be.

The farm boy that had never been further than a couple of days ride from the farmstead was contemplating a journey to the Isle of Avalon, four weeks hard ride away, in the hope of saving his mother. His mother whom it seemed had once been the very male Wynter Lion, Heir to the High Throne of the Angelcyn. To complicate matters more, his only allies in all of this were the two men who had led the Yeomen to his home in the first place. Hoping that his instinct that the two men were trustworthy was correct, Hal slid off his horse and went to check on his father's body.

Stopping by the two aging destriers, Hal affectionately stroked their manes as he moved between the pair. Suspended in the centre between the two warhorses was a makeshift litter upon which his father's body rested. Pulling at the straps, he sought to ensure that it was still securely tethered without rubbing uncomfortably against either of the giant warhorses. Satisfied that all was as it should be, Hal responded to the gentle nudging from one of the horses.

"I don't have any carrots or apples with me today for treats," said Hal, with a laugh. "You'll just have to wait until we stop tonight, Val."

Canting it's head slightly, the great white charger gently nuzzled at Hal's pocket's attempting to verify his claim. Hal chuckled at the tickling sensation caused by the horse as it searched him for hidden treats.

A quiet warning whiney from the other horse signalled an end to the impromptu search as both Hal and the hungry horse turned to face the figure approaching. A subdued Sir Thomas came to a halt in front of the trio. His posture, with its tight shoulders, had the air of a man with the weight of the world upon him. In his right hand he held a scrap of cloth that Hal couldn't quite make out.

"Hal...something happened here yesterday," said Thomas, gesturing to a blackened tree trunk beside the trail with his free hand. "We've found pieces of a shattered weaver bow and traces of blood. None of my men carried weaver bows and I know your mother could use one..."

"Noah and Maddy were both gifted and could use a weaver bow," said Hal, gently stroking the neck of the white destrier beside him in a calming manner in response to the loud snort it sent towards Thomas. "If my mother sent them away from the cottage, she would have undoubtedly given them their bows for protection if she had the chance. The blood...do you think it's theirs?"

"Maybe," said Thomas, bringing the scrap of cloth up so that Hal could see it clearly. Thomas pulled at the material, separating it out into two separate pieces of cloth.

"This is definitely part of a yeoman's uniform," said Thomas indicating to the red and white chequered cloth. "But this isn't part of the standard issue uniform..."

Hal carefully pulled the second piece of cloth from Thomas's grasp and turned it over in his hand. He noted the intricately embroidered flower design and the golden yellow colouring of the material.

"It's from one of Maddy's bodices," said Hal, his voice catching slightly as he spoke. "D-did you find..."

"We've not found anyone. I'm going to join Jack in a thorough sweep of the area to see if we can find anything."

"I'll join you."

"No," said Thomas, placing his hand firmly on Hal's shoulder. "We need you to stay with your father and the horses. We'll be fine. Both Jack and I are experienced trackers and if there is anything to be found, we'll find it. Trust me."

"I guess..." said Hal uncertainly. "I'll..."

Hal lapsed into silence as he tenderly traced the embroidery on the fragment of his sisters bodice, unaware that tears were flowing unbidden down his cheeks.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Thomas hesitantly prodded with his dagger at the pile of broken twigs and small branches. The scrap of material he found at the scene matched that which he'd found earlier and he was in no doubt that this was where Madeleine came to rest. A scorch mark on a nearby tree further corroborated his suspicions. Siden energy didn't burn organic material in the same way that fire did and if you knew what you were looking for the clues were easy to find. Moving to the damaged tree he broke off a piece of blackened bark and rubbed it between his fingers, letting it crumble to gauge the degree of burn. Blowing the dust from his hand, he turned around and began to carefully inspect the undergrowth.

The absence of footprints between the trail and the site and the general impact pattern visible in the earth suggested to Thomas that when the weaver bow broke Madeleine had been thrown through the air and landed here. Having seen an overcharged siden stone explode before in battle, Thomas had a good idea of the effect it could have on those nearby. That the impact spot was , if he was an accurate judge of distance and he knew he was, a good seven hundred metres away from the trail was of no surprise to him.

What surprised him however, was the absence of a body or any evidence of anyone removing a body. Thomas rocked gently on his haunches as he tried to puzzle this latest enigma, soaking in the silence of the forest.

"People don't just vanish," he muttered under his breath as he scanned the surrounding forest. "So where are you if you aren't here?"

A hint of movement on the periphery of his vision, caused Thomas to turn his head sharply to get a better look. His senses alive to every sound and sight, he carefully scanned the surrounding forest for any sign of life. Oak and elms trees gently rustled in the light breeze and the occasional bird could be seen in the high canopy. Rising to his feet, Thomas's fingers lightly touched the pommel of his sword in reassurance. Every instinct he had was screaming at him that he wasn't alone, yet his vision and hearing kept telling him he was alone.

His attention flicked upwards at the sound of a branch creaking in the tree canopy above him but he saw nothing there. Yet despite what his five physical senses were telling him, his instinctive sixth sense of danger told him otherwise. He'd lost track of the number of times his 'old soldiers' sense of impending danger had saved his life and right now that sense was protesting that he was in imminent danger.

Clearing his throat, Thomas sought to coax a response from someone.

"Hello? Is there anyone there? Madeleine? Noah? I'm with Hal...I mean you no harm. Anyone?"

Thomas strained to hear anything over the deafening silence of the forest but the only noise he heard was again the faint rustling of tree branches in the wind. And then, carried on the same breeze he thought he heard the faintest sound of a voice to his left. Being careful to keep looking ahead, Thomas silently slid his dagger back into its small scabbard on his belt and firmly gripped the hilt of his sword.

Turning slowly to his left, he slid the sword from its scabbard and braced himself for the attack from the foe that wasn't there.

Thomas knew that without the life stone, which was around the neck of Daniel's body still, there would be no coming back. For the first time in nearly a year, death would truly mean death. And a part of Thomas sang in celebration, feeling alive for the first time in a long time. If he died today he would die an honourable death regardless of what the Yeomanry of the Household may believe of him. He would die in the defence of his friend's family not for a cause or a flag long since tarnished by politics. And he wouldn't give his life cheaply either. He would make them pay. He would make them regr...

"Sonuva!"

A loud crackling and snapping of branch and leaves followed by some inventive cursing from behind him drew Thomas's attention. Spinning around, he saw the prone form of Jack Fairfax tangled up amongst vegetation and wire.

"Damn poachers!" fumed Jack, hacking at the entangling mess with his sword. "Just you wait until I get my hands of them..."

Thomas turned back to face the unseen danger, taking a deep breath to steady his pulse and clear his mind. Screening out the noise from Fairfax, Thomas listened to the forest. Somewhere nearby a bird was singing. A deer moved quietly a few hundred metres away, trying to quickly distance itself from the predator attracting noise of Jack struggling to get free. In short, everything looked and sounded like it should.

Whatever hadn't been there was gone.

Sheathing his sword, Thomas crouched down by Jack and proceeded to help untangle the younger yeoman from the wire and vegetation he had become ensnared in. He resolved that as soon as Jack was free they would return to the safety of the trail and head for the barn.

 

~o~O~o~
 

The Lower Pasture Barn at the foot of the Downs Mountain Range, Kingdom of Cantia

Woden's Day 24 April EY 2471 - Late-Morning

Thomas cautiously examined the horse lying dead behind the back of the barn, noting the powerful bite marks that had ripped its throat open. From what he could see, the horse had died a relatively quick and painless death unlike the badly mauled human body lying next to it. It was the severed arm of the yeoman lying in some tall grass near the track that had first drawn his attention to the back of the barn and the rudimentary attempts by someone - or something - to hide the evidence of the kill.

Stepping over the corpse of the horse, Thomas knelt down next to the yeoman and gently reached out and closed the glassy unseeing eyes.

"I'm sorry Simon," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry. I never intended this end for you."

Thomas tensed as he heard the footfalls of a second person before relaxing on seeing who it was.

"Where's Jack?" Thomas asked the newcomer.

"He's gone ahead to check the barn and outbuildings while I secured the horses. The arm you found..." said Hal, pointing to the body.

"Yes, it's his."

"You knew him?" asked Hal, pulling his kerchief up over his nose to mask the smell of death and decay.

"Yeoman Simon Hawkins. A first class tracker and a mean fiddle player," said Thomas, his voice tinged with sadness. "He was one of six yeomen in Jack's detachment."

"Do you think there are more around?" said Hal, glancing beyond the barn and related outbuildings to the sprawling lower pasture beyond it. "I never saw anyone else while I was tethering the horses."

"There's another dead horse about two hundred metres that way," said Sir Thomas, with a wave of his arm in the direction leading north away from the barn. "From what I can see, it was being used as a pack animal to transport the body of Sergeant Landon. There are signs that a third horse escaped but it's unclear if it had a rider or another corpse."

"So you think they are long gone?"

"Yes, they wouldn't have left their dead unburied if they were here," replied Thomas. "And there are no signs of any struggle beyond that which killed Simon and his horse."

"How did he die?"

Sir Thomas sighed, and ran his hand across the top of his short cropped hair. He took a second to momentarily look back at the bite marks on the horse before speaking.

"The pattern of indentation on the horse suggests that the killer was probably a dire wolf rather than a sabre tooth. While that's no comfort to Simon here, for us it is a small mercy as it means the wolf pack has probably moved on to easier pickings."

"You're sure it's a dire wolf?" asked Hal, a note of urgency entering his voice. Sir Thomas nodded an affirmation in response.

"Greytail!" shouted Hall happily. "The other's can't be far away!"

Thomas watched as Hal sprinted for the entrance on the far side of the large barn, calling out the names of his siblings as he ran. Rising to his feet, Sir Thomas jogged after him ensuring that he kept a keen eye on the tree line across the track as he moved.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Greytail let out a deep throated growl that seemed to reverberate around the cavernous barn as he barred his teeth at his prey. His flared nostrils drank in the smell of fear, the combination of sweat and blood that prey made when it's end was near. Watching his wounded prey crawl backwards until it finally propped itself up against one of the hay bales in the barn, Greytail's eyes sought to find any evidence of any other metal claws like the two lying under his right paw. Satisfied that none were in obvious sight, he flicked his attention back to the burrow behind him from which 'Little Cub' was peeking out. Shifting slightly, the pony sized Dire Wolf sought to block Little Cub's view of the prey in case he was required to kill it. He knew that Mother did not want her to see such things, even though to Greytail's mind the lesson of hunting was the most important lesson that a young cub could be taught.

The prey let out little yelps of alarm that Greytail had to silence by moving closer to the prey and barring his teeth in a pronounced snarl. More likely than not, Greytail thought, the prey had a pack. Not for the first time, he wished Mother had been more specific in what she had whispered to his mind. He knew it wasn't her fault. As far as he could tell Mother wasn't even aware of her whispering gift and the jumble of images and emotions that she whispered into his mind sometimes took time to decipher, cluttered as they were with the human tongue. What he did know was that Mother had whispered to him an image of humans in the prey's pelt associated with the emotions of fear and anger.

Greytail had hoped to avoid a second confrontation with this pack after encountering one before the last moonrise. However, the stench made by the Big Hooves when they wintered here had permeated the barn and distracted him from noticing the newcomer until too late. If there were a pack, Greytail knew he would have to dispose of the prey quickly but away from Little Cub so that Mother's will would not be disobeyed. As Greytail approached he noted the prey's yelps of fear started again until he quickly silenced them by firmly grasping the prey by the neck. Carefully dragging the prey so as not to end its life it yet, Greytail headed for a darkened corner of the barn in which to make his kill.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"Maddy? Noah?" called out Hal as he burst in through the open door of the barn. Hal stopped briefly as it took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the gloom of the barn. "Anyone? Hello?"

"HAL!" cried a small voice from the centre of the barn floor. Hal ran towards the trapdoor in the floor of the barn, pulling it open to reveal the combination storm cellar and storeroom. Perched near the top of the ladder leading down into the storm cellar was his youngest sister, Charlotte. Hal pulled her up into his arms once she had scrambled clear of the trapdoor and gathering her in a tight embrace he spun around with her, laughing in relief at finding his sister safe. Charlotte in turn, giggled and squealed in his arms and the two siblings clung tightly to each other, both afraid to let go in case the other wasn't real.

Eventually, Hal gently lowered Charlotte to the ground and kneeling in front of her he took her hands in his own.

"Lottie, are you okay?" he asked. In response Charlotte nodded her head vigorously causing the tears on her cheeks to shake loose and tumble to the straw covered floor.

"Where are the others?" asked Hal, his voice a soft whisper. "Where are Maddy and Noah?"

"I don't know," replied Charlotte with a sniffle. "It's just me and Greytail. They were behind us and then...they were gone."

"Well, we will just have to find them, won't we?" said Hal with a smile conveying more conviction than he felt before once more wrapping his arms around his sister in a tight embrace. He could feel the tension drain from his sister as she sobbed gently into his shoulder.

"Greytail?" asked Thomas from behind Hal, where he had been watching the reunion of brother and sister and struggling with his guilt for the pain that he had caused their family.

"Our dog," said Hal with a smile. "Greytail! Here boy!"

The sight of the dire wolf padding out of the gloom from the far corner of the barn, caused Sir Thomas to take a step back in shock. The sight of Fairfax hanging limply from its jaws caused him to reach for his sword, resulting in a deep resonant growl from Greytail in response.

"Greytail! Drop!" called Hal, ensuring he held Charlotte tight to him so that she couldn't see the sight behind her. "Drop boy! Drop!"

Greytail with some reluctance released the limp form of Fairfax, letting him drop to the floor before slowly wagging his drooping tail in a hopeful manner. For a few seconds, neither man or wolf moved until Fairfax hesitantly reached up to his neck and started to wipe the mix of blood and the wolf's saliva away. Satisfied that Fairfax wasn't in any immediate danger, Hal released Charlotte with one arm and signalled Greytail to join them in a hug. Silently padding over to the two siblings, Greytail bent down to lick both their faces while a giggling Charlotte and smiling Hal both reached around his neck to draw him into a hug.

For a few moments, Hal revelled in the joy of being with family and the memories of happier times and briefly let go of all the tension and worry of the previous day.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Pulling the bucket from the well, Fairfax tipped its contents over his head washing away the mixture of blood and saliva that had coated his neck and chest. As the water cascaded over his bare chest and touched the healing stone hanging around his neck, it danced and shimmered as it purified on contact. The stone glowed a faint dull red signifying that the events of the last few days had left the charge of siden that powered it seriously depleted. Shaking his head to dislodge the excess water from his hair, Jack wiped his face with the small cotton towel that all yeomen carried in their travel kit and examined his right arm again.

The dire wolf's bite marks had now faded to just angry red marks on the surface of the skin and the flesh and muscle underneath had knitted back together returning full use of the arm to him. Satisfied that he would be fully healed in a few minutes, he picked up his blood stained and torn tunic before throwing it in disgust on top of his similarly torn and blood splattered riding breeches.

"How are you feeling?" asked Sir Thomas, offering a clean tunic to Jack.

"Well...let's see. As far as the world is concerned I'm dead. When Ackers gets back to the Wynter Palace she's probably going to spin a tale of treachery that will have my name read out amongst the roll of the dishonoured. Not that she even needs to concoct much of a story given I disobeyed royal orders. I got snared in a rather nasty poachers trap which I should have noticed. I've somehow ended up following a clueless farm boy on some hair brained quest. I spent five minutes as a Dire Wolf's chew toy. And oh... I'm down to my last tunic," said Jack, tugging the new garment over his head as he spoke.

Sir Thomas chuckled quietly at the last comment watching as the expression of righteous indignation on Jack's face softened to a rueful smile.

"At least you're alive," said Sir Thomas, resting his hand briefly on Jack's shoulder. Turning from the well back towards the barn, Sir Thomas returned his attention to the tree line that ran along the opposite side of the track from the barn.

"What is it?" asked Jack. "You've been paying an unnatural amount of attention to that tree line since about half way down the mountain."

"I just have a feeling that we aren't alone."

"You think Ackers left more yeomen?"

"No. It's not yeomen," said Sir Thomas, releasing the leather strap that held his sword in its scabbard while he was riding. "In fact I'm not sure it's any type of man."

"You think the smell of dead horse has attracted predators?" asked Jack, pulling clean riding breeches on. "The last thing we need is to run into a hungry sabre tooth, even with the wolf on our side."

Sir Thomas's paused before replying, his eyes focused intently on an area a few hundred metres away from them, just inside the edge of the tree line.

"Did you see it that time?" whispered Sir Thomas, nodding towards the undergrowth.

"No. Maybe...not clearly. I think I saw something..." said Jack, his own dropping to a whisper. "I didn't get a good enough look to see what it was."

"I did," said Sir Thomas, a tightness in his voice.

"What is it then?" asked Jack as he fastened his sword belt in place. "What is it that has you so spooked?"

"Dweorgas," spat Sir Thomas. "They are drawn to children and probably saw the girl go into the barn alone yesterday but the wolf has kept them at bay. I'm going to check to see if I can find the other two kids. It's most likely that Ackers has them both but I want to be sure."

A frown creased Jack's face in response. "Dweorgas? Are they even real? I thought they were just some form of mythical nature spirit. Stories to scare children and an excuse for the guilty to cover their crimes."

"No, they are real all right. When I was a young yeoman I escorted the High King to a meeting with one of the Clan Chieftains. His name was Finn if memory serves. Creepy little bastard but a damn good smith. Oh...and don't tell Hal or the girl, they've got enough to worry about at the moment."

"If you say so."

"I do."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to bury our dead and have a quick look at that tree line. You're going to take the Amherst's and make for the Paxton's."

"Oh yes...the babysitters," sighed Jack. "If we're really lucky they will take farm boy off of our hands as well as the girl."

"You don't have to come with us Jack," said Thomas, his eyes intently searching the tree line.

"Yeah...well, where you go, I go and all that..." mumbled Jack, before speaking more clearly. "I should come with you into the forest."

"No," said Sir Thomas. "While they normally stay in the forest, it's not unheard of for them to leave it in pursuit of a child. I need you here. Anyway, it's unlikely they will attack a rider unless provoked. They have no love for horses and horses no love for them. Besides, I need you to stay with the others and protect them. If I'm wrong and there is a sabre tooth in the area, the boy doesn't stand a chance defending his sister without your blade."

Jack grunted a begrudging acceptance to the plan.

"I'll do as you say," he said gathering his kit up from around the well. "You just be careful old man."

"Less of the 'old man' you young whelp," said Sir Thomas. While his voice contained a mischievous edge, his eyes remained hard and focussed on the tree line as he walked towards the back of the barn and the fallen yeomen.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Thomas rammed the shovel into the ground and stepped back to examine the two shallow graves he'd dug behind the barn. He hoped that this hasty measure would be sufficient to deter scavengers, particularly when the corpses of the two dead horses nearby would be easier pickings.

"I'm sorry lads," said Thomas. "You both deserve better burials than this. When we get to Canterbury, I'll ensure that the Cantwara are told where to find you so you can be buried properly."

The sound of his horse's agitated whinnying drew his attention back to the present. Fairfax and the Amherst's had been gone for a good hour now and he suspected the dweorgas were finally feeling confident enough to venture from the tree line. Banging his shovel against the side of the barn to dislodge the worst of the fresh earth from it, he unscrewed the metal sections of the handle as he walked and slotted each of the pieces into an open pouch on his saddle bags. Once it was secured away, he grasped the loose reins of his mount and began to rub its neck gently, whispering words of reassurance to the skittish animal.

"You can come out now," said Thomas, in a loud clear voice while focusing his attention on keeping his horse calm. "I'm alone. I may not be able to see you but I know you are there."

In response, the only noise was the gentle breeze rustling the branches of smaller trees. Yet when Thomas turned his head away from his horse towards the tree line, he was not surprised to see a figure standing on the trail.

"Well met, sir" said Thomas, bowing his head slightly out of respect to the figure before him. While his horses reins were held firmly in his left hand, the palm of his right hand gently rocked against the pommel of his sword. The figure closed the distance between them so silently that Thomas wasn't even certain he was walking on the ground, coming to a stop a couple of metres away from Thomas. Thomas's mount snorted its disquiet and scratched at the ground with its hoof, prompting a wary glance from the newcomer.

Now able to get a clearer look at him, Thomas compared the figure to the images popularised in the fairytales of the Angelcyn and his own, several decade old recollections of his meeting with Lord Finn.

Unlike the gruff stocky creatures of his peoples fairytales, Thomas guessed the newcomer to be just under a metre and a half in height. He would hesitate to call the figure a 'dwarf', given the perfect proportions of his comparatively short stature. His youthful, stubble covered face with its delicate features and flawless pale white skin spoke of a 'prettiness' rather than a 'ruggedness', an appearance that was not helped by his jet black shaggy hair which had been loosely pulled back into a waist length braid decorated with daisies and laurel leaves. A pair of coal black eyes peered out at him from under a precious stone encrusted gold coronet which Thomas knew denoted his status as a clan chieftain amongst the Dweorgas.

"Well met, Yeoman" replied the figure, his voice was surprisingly soft and light but his body language hinted at a firmness underneath not to be trifled with. "What brings you to this forest?"

"I'm searching for two children who I believe came upon this place sometime yesterday. Who do I have the honour of addressing?" said Thomas, his mind working hard to recall the appropriately respectful manner in which to address a Dweorgas clan elder.

"You may address me as Lord Nori...or simply My Lord...and I know of the children that you seek, Sir Thomas." said the figure, idly fidgeting with a sizable curved dagger in his hands as he spoke. The size and shape of the blade making it look more like a cleaving than a stabbing weapon.

"You know of me, My Lord?" asked Thomas.

"I know of many things. I know that the boy, Noah, is with the other yeomen. They are taking him eastwards, away from the your people for reasons I do not know."

"Is he unharmed?"

"Based on the last report from my rangers before the yeomen left the forest, I would say so."

"And the girl?"

Lord Nori, shifted uncomfortably for a minute, toying with the protective ring guard on the underside of the hilt of his dagger.

"By human standards, I am ancient," said Lord Nori, brushing his hair aside to reveal an ear with a pronounced point far in excess of that of the most noblest born á¦lfe descended human. "I was born in the twenty-third year of the reign of High King Theodore, which by your calendar would be EY1076. An unpleasant and ignorant man, Theodore would blame my people for the three year long Great Famine saying that our tunnels had drained the water from the soil. Complete rubbish of course but in the final year of the famine, Theodore would orchestrate a series of massacres against us to appease his peoples unrest and divert the blame from himself. As a result, the Clans withdrew from day-to-day interaction with your people to refuges deep underground and in the darkest forests..."

A bitter expression creased Lord Nori's face as unpleasant memories replayed through his mind.

"I tell you this because ever since then, your people have distorted and twisted their perception of my people to excuse their acts of barbarism against us. Your ancestors killed my mother and thousands more of my people yet in your eyes, I am the villain here. I am not what you think I am. I can tell from the fire in your eyes that you believe the stories of us as tricksters...inflictors of curses...and child snatchers. Tell me, Sir Thomas...have you ever heard the 'Charm Against A Dwarf' sung to cure those tormented by nightmares we've supposedly inflicted by taking their 'soul' for a ride?"

Thomas nodded his head in response, tightening his grip on his sword hilt.

"I know of you, Sir Thomas," said Lord Nori. "Do you think the nightmares that torment you of the innocent men, women and children you put to the sword in reprisals against the people of Deira and Bernicia are caused by my people or your own conscience?"

Thomas let go of the hilt of his sword and shook his head slowly.

"My demons...are my own."

"Aye lad, they are that," said Lord Nori, the barest trace of a smile playing on his lips. "If it helps you to understand me better, I would direct you to the name that your Norse cousins know us by. We are the 'Dá¸kká¡lfar' to them...the 'dark elf'. We are no better or worse than those of your own people who have the blood of the á¦lfe running through their veins."

Lord Nori paused and held up his hand in a beckoning gesture. In response a dozen Dweorgas clothed in green and brown patterned garments emerged from the tree line, holding an assortment of axes, bows and swords.

"I'm showing you my rangers so that you understand the need to temper your actions with wisdom after what I am about to tell you...I have the girl but I will not release her to you at this time."

Thomas's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword again in response to Lord Nori's comment.

"I must insist that she is released," said Thomas, his eyes not leaving the bowmen amongst Lord Nori's people. "Her brother wishes only her safe return, My Lord."

"From what I've observed of the him, Hal is a good lad," said Lord Nori with a smile. "A trifle blinkered at times when he has made his mind up but then he gets that from his mother. And yes, I know who she really is. I swore an oath to the Wynter Lion shortly after she settled here that I would bring no harm to hers if she in turn brought no harm to mine. I was not able to help Noah but I can help Madeleine."

"If what you say is true...if you mean her no harm...then you would have no objection to my seeing her then, My Lord?" asked Thomas.

Lord Nori exhaled in response and lowered his dagger.

"This is probably the longest I've spoken to a human not of the blood royal since High Queen Alexandra was sitting on the Wynter Throne...what, three hundred or so years ago. Now there was a fine woman...."

"My Lord," said Thomas, his voice taking on a more insistent quality. "May I see her?"

"You will see her," said Lord Nori, extending his free hand to Thomas. "Upon that you have my word."

Thomas felt a sharp pain as he grasp the proffered hand and pulled his hand quickly back. A thin scratch marked one of his fingers and he sucked at in an effort to staunch the bleeding and minimise the slight pain.

"I think I caught my hand on your ring, My Lo..."

Thomas collapsed to his knees heavily, pitching forward into the ground. His hand flailed at his sword but his muscles seemed oddly uncoordinated and he couldn't form his fingers into a firm enough grip on the hilt to draw it. As his vision started to blur, he saw the face of a smiling Lord Nori bend down close to his.

"You have my word that you will see Princess Madeleine when the time is right for her to be returned to you," said Lord Nori. "I give you my oath that she will come to no harm by my peoples hands while in our care."

Lord Nori signalled to figures outside of Thomas's range of vision and he felt other hands grasp him and move him into a sitting position.

"Wha..."

"It's a fast acting paralysing agent of our own devising. You may experience some difficulty in speaking as your lips and tongue go numb. Rest assured that you will have no lasting ill effects from it, although right now I'm sure you're wishing you were wearing that healing stone and not your compatriot," said Lord Nori with a chuckle. "I want you to remember what I say next, as it's very important. You may not think it now but we are actually on the same side in the coming storm. Everything I have told you today is true, although with one small exception..."

"Wa...x'eption..."

"What exception? I may have stretched the truth a tiny bit when I said we weren't tricksters by nature. It turns out that your people remember that part perfectly correctly," said Lord Nori, with a wink.

"Yewww...itl...baaa..." mumbled Thomas, before the power of speech finally deserted him.

"Anyway, I've got to be going. Things to do and all that. You just take things easy and enjoy a nice rest," said Lord Nori patting Thomas gently on the cheek.

The last thing Thomas saw before losing consciousness was two Dweorgas struggling with the reins of his horse.

 

~o~O~o~
 

The Paxton Farmstead, The Great Plains, Kingdom of Cantia

Woden's Day 24 April EY 2471 - Early afternoon

"Pa! Riders!" called a teenage boy from his vantage point standing in the open first floor doors of the barn.

Ambrose Paxton carefully placed the hay bale on the ground and turned to face the road leading from the farmstead to the plains. Shading his eyes from the low spring sun, he could make out the form of three riders and two accompanying rider less horses in the distance.

"Tony...can you see who it is from there?" he called up to his youngest son.

"Yeah...one of the riders is Hal Stockbury...it looks like little Charlotte is riding with him. I don't recognise the second man...but it looks like he's wearing some sort of uniform."

"Go tell your mother we've got company coming and then get your brothers together."

"Wayne and Robert are out in the Auroch pastures," called Tony in response.

Ambrose cursed quietly under his breath recalling he'd sent them out to the far pastures earlier that morning.

"Tell your mother anyway...and get your sisters together in that case."

"Okay, Pa!" called Tony as he headed back into the darkness of the barn.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Ambrose Paxton was the sort of man who people would often say that 'they wouldn't have wanted to cross when he was younger'. Even now in his early fifties, he was someone that you would have to think twice at crossing. Standing at just under two metres tall, he gave the impression of being at least that wide and while some of his muscle had faded away with age, work on the farm had ensured that the muscles in his arms remained largely unchanged. His light mocha coloured skin had a leathery quality typical of someone who had spent far too long outside unprotected in extremes of weather.

Ambrose leaned against the flat top of a post in the low wooden fence that surrounded the farmstead and waved with his free hand as the riders came to a halt in front of him. With an excited squeal, Charlotte slid off the side of her brothers horse and ran to embrace him.

"Uncle Ambrose!" squealed an excited Charlotte as Ambrose spun her around in his arms.

"Hey pumpkin!" greeted Ambrose.

Hal dismounted and shook hands with Ambrose in greeting, his own hand disappearing in the grasp of the older man's much bigger hand.

"Hal," said Ambrose.

"Unc...Ambrose," said Hal, blushing at his slip. It was still difficult for him not to refer to the older man as 'Uncle Ambrose' even though they were not related. However, he honoured the older man's wish that now Hal was of age he greet him as an equal.

"Who's your friend," asked Ambrose nodding his head towards the still mounted figure of Fairfax. "And what brings you to the farm?"

"Ambrose, this is Lieutenant Fairfax. Jack, this is Ambrose Paxton," said Hal. "As for why I'm here...things have...happened..."

In response to Hal's gesture towards the two aging destriers, Ambrose placed Charlotte on the ground and approached the litter.

"Is he..." asked Ambrose, letting the final part of the question remain unspoken as he glanced towards Charlotte.

"Yes, I think so..." replied Hal. "I had hoped that the life stone...I...that is, we..."

Ambrose reached over and embraced Hal.

"We'll get through this together," said Ambrose, releasing the younger man from the bear hug.

Turning to the farm house, he cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed at Tony standing uncertainly in the doorway.

"Tony! Ask your mother to set the table for three more and then get Sara and Rachel to come out here with you!"

Watching as his son waved in acknowledgement, Ambrose carefully scooped the body of Daniel from the litter with both arms.

"Yeoman, if you wouldn't mind seeing to the horses. The barn has a small stabling area at the back you can use. My children will help you find everything you need," said Ambrose. "Charlotte, Hal...we'll take your father inside to lay down in one of the spare rooms and we'll talk more over dinner if that's okay?"

Hal nodded his agreement. Any further discussion was curtailed by a cry from a young woman as she ran from the farm house.

"I see Sara is pleased to see you," said Ambrose.

In a hug that nearly knocked Hal off his feet, Sara threw her arms around Hal's neck and pressed her lips hard against his. Grasping her waist tenderly with his hands, Hal returned the kiss with equal passion.

Charlotte giggled softly at her brother and looked up to see a smile on Ambrose's face. Noticing that he'd be caught smiling, Ambrose cleared his throat and adopted as stern a visage as he could manage, trying to ignore the smile tickling the corner of his lips.

"Alright you two, enough of that. Sara, you need to help your brother and sister stable the horses while Hal and Lottie here need to go inside and talk."

Sara leant into Hal, sneaking one last quick kiss before grasping the reins to his horse.

It took all of Ambrose's willpower not to laugh at the goofy smile that was plastered onto Hal's face as he walked towards the cottage.

 

~o~O~o~
 

The Clan Laurel Refuge, The Downs Mountains

Woden's Day 24 April EY 2471 - Late-Afternoon

Lord Nori slumped into a heavily padded chair with a sigh and crossing his legs, rested them on the surface of the large oak desk in front of him. With a practiced ease, he used each foot in turn to remove the boot from the other and kicked off his thick woollen socks, enjoying the feeling of cool air running over aching, hot feet. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the chair and cleared his mind of everything, feeling the tension start to wash away.

"I'm getting too old for this..." he whispered, though truth be told he knew that in his heart a part of him enjoyed today even if his body was paying the price for it now.

"NORI DAVLINNSSON!" shouted a voice from outside his chambers. A voice he recognised all too well.

Lord Nori hastily pulled his feet down from the desk and straightened up in the chair as the door burst open. A quick scan of the room told him that there were far too many potential projectiles in the room for his liking and he wondered if it would make things worse if he went for his shield, hanging on the wall behind his chair.

Two figures entered through the doorway, one, an attractive Dweorgas woman, marching towards him with her face full of thunder while the second, a late middle aged human male, nervously shuffled into the room behind her.

"What do you think you were doing?" shouted the woman, grasping the edge of his desk as she leaned forward to poke him in the chest. "What on Eorá°e possessed you risk your life in such a manner?"

"Dorlin...sweetheart..."

"Don't you 'sweetheart' me, Nori Davlinnsson!" shouted Dorlin, her volume getting louder and her complexion getting redder by the second. "You promised me that you would delegate the task of tracking the other Amherst children to one of the ranger commanders. Promised me! So imagine my surprise when Captain Alaricsdottir said that you were leading the rangers!"

Nori's eyes briefly flicked to the ornamental iron ore paperweight that his wife was grasping in her left hand and not for the first time in their marriage gave serious consideration to wearing his battle helm more often in the Refuge. Glancing up, he noticed the anxious expression on the human hovering in the background.

"Sweetheart...not in front of the child," hissed Nori, gesturing with his eyes towards the human.

Dorlin's head turned to look back at the other figure in the room, briefly giving him a warm smile before turning back to face Nori.

"Don't think this is over Nori Davlinnson!" she snarled back before dropping heavily in one of the two chairs on her side of the desk. "Just you wait until tonight."

Patting the second chair, Dorlin gestured to the third figure in the room to join them.

Accepting the truce with relief, Nori slumped back into his chair with a loud sigh. He couldn't help but smile as he recalled the words of advice his father gave him as a child about selecting a mate. 'Marry a woman with iron in her veins'. Lady Dorlin Hergersdottir certainly had that in her veins he thought. And also in her grasp he noted with some unease as he watched her shifting his paperweight from hand to hand.

"So Gareth, how is the girl?" asked Nori, hoping to change the conversation to safer ground.

"Her physical injuries are healing well and she should look none the worse for her injuries by tomorrow morning," said Gareth. "Our weavers have significant concerns about the shards of siden stone lodged in her though. They've only been able to remove a fraction of the shards, mainly the smallest pieces. In your absence, father, I advised Lady Snorrisdottir and her weavers to keep her asleep until they've removed as much as they can and completely healed her burn wounds."

"Given how badly burnt she was when our rangers found her, I think you are doing her an act of kindness by not letting her see her injuries," said Nori, nodding his assent. "It's better that she wake up tomorrow and be none the wiser as to how close to death she was when we found her. Well done, lad."

A shy smile tugged at Gareth's lips as he blushed in response to Nori's praise.

"When do you intend to release her back to her family?" asked Gareth.

"I've given my word that we will release her when the time is right," said Nori with a wink. "And that will be when I am certain she can come to no harm. My oath to the Wynter Lion still stands."

"I've never seen a human with that much aelfe blood in her before," said Gareth, running his hand through his thinning short cropped salt and pepper hair. "Is all the Wynter line like that?"

"No...not to that degree. The Amherst's are a family unusually rich in the blood of the aelfe which helps but the Wynter Lion herself is the purest aelfe blood I've ever met outside of our own people. Far more so than her parents oddly..."

"Ahhh...a mystery to pique my father's curiosity. Though if you will forgive me, mother...father...I'm due at Court shortly to hear petitions relating to families wishing to undertake exploratory mining in the eastern zone," said Gareth easing himself to his feet with a grunt.

"Joints playing you up again, son?" asked Nori, his face softening in response to the pained expression on Gareth's face.

"No worse than usual father," replied Gareth, grasping his mother's outstretched hand to reassure her. "It's already passing."

Straightening himself up to his full six foot, Gareth turned and bowed slightly to both his parents. Both Dweorgas watched as he limped out of the room and once the door closed behind him, Dorlin burst into tears causing Nori to hastily move around the desk to take her in his arms.

"Shhhhhhh...sweetheart, it'll be okay," whispered Nori, lightly kissing the top of his wife's auburn hair. "I'll speak to Lady Snorrisdottir later and get one the weavers to visit him and relieve his pain. While she has done a tremendous job in retarding the visible signs of his ageing, she expected his pain to return sooner or later. Even the power of siden has its limits."

"My baby...he's too young for this..." said Dorlin, punctuating her speech with diaphragm heaving sobs. "too young..."

Balancing on the arm of her chair, Nori pulled his wife closer to him, so that her head rested gently against his chest.

"The trouble is he's not young though is he? For one of us, seventy-five would be early adolescence...for a human lacking the blood of the aelfe in his veins...he's in the early part of his old age," said Nori, his voice heavily tinged with sadness. "I don't regret for a moment rescuing him from those outlaws that murdered his family. It seemed like a gift from the á‰se at the time, holding that orphaned four year old in my arms so soon after losing our own newborn child...and I've never been prouder than when he was sixteen and he choose to remain with us...his family...rather than return to the human world."

Nori blotted at his eyes with the back of his hand before continuing.

"I consider myself to have been blessed. I married a beautiful woman who has become more beautiful with each passing century and I have a son to be proud of...Gareth Norisson's kindness and bravery will be sung in the history of our people for generations to come. And if he only has a short time left with us, then I intend to make every day of them count."

"I wish there was something we could do..." sighed Dorlin, snuggling against her husband's chest.

"I've asked Lady Snorrisdottir to speak to the other clans and consult the old knowledge. I give you my oath that no stone will be left unturned in an effort to find some way of giving our son the life span he should have."

"You're a good man, Nori Davlinnsson..." said Dorlin as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "I know you will do everything within your power to save our son from his mayfly human life."

Nori rested his chin on top of his wife's head and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her body against his. The couple held each other in silence for a few minutes before finally Dorlin stirred. Rising to her feet she kissed her husband lovingly on the cheek before leaving the room. Stopping at the door, she looked back at her husband watching as he collected his socks from the floor.

"Nori..." asked Dorlin in honeyed tones.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I love you..."

"I love you too."

"Nori..."

"Yes, sweetheart?" answered Nori, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"I haven't forgotten you're still in the doghouse," said Dorlin, flashing an evil grin at her husband as she exited the room.

"Marry a woman with iron in her blood..." muttered Nori looking heavenwards. "Sometimes father, I think that advice was the biggest trick you ever pulled on me..."

 

~o~O~o~
 

The Paxton Farmstead, The Great Plains, Kingdom of Cantia

Hal gratefully accepted the wooden salad bowl passed across the table to him by Jeanie, helping himself to a large scooping before passing it onto Ambrose sitting beside him. The general hubbub of conversation in the kitchen reminding him of meals at home.

Taking a bite from a honey cake, Jack let out a little sigh of appreciation. "This is good. Better than good. We need some of these for the road if it's possible."

Ambrose chuckled in response. "Jeanie can bake like no one else I've met."

"Marsha, Jean..." said Jeanie, turning to her youngest children. "Why don't you take Lottie and go out back and feed Greytail. I'm sure he would like the salted leg of lamb I've put aside for him."

"Yes, momma!" responded Marsha excitedly, getting down from her seat. "Come with me Lottie!"

"Momma..." whined Jean. "Can't I stay with you.."

A stern look from Jeanie silenced her twelve year old daughter and she reluctantly headed out to the back of the house after the two giggling younger children. Once she was certain they had gone, Jeanie turned to face Hal once more.

"What have you told Lottie?"

"About father?" asked Hal, around a mouthful of beef and salad. "I've said he's very sick and I'm going to take him to a physic. I still live in hope that we can find a weaver who can revive him but either way, the life stone is preventing his body suffering any decay."

"She needs to know the truth sooner or later," stated Ambrose, breaking a chunk of bread from one of the loaves in the centre of the table. "Whatever you hope, you can't deny her the chance to say goodbye to him if he is gone."

"I know...I intend to tell her before I head for Canterbury how serious father's condition is. If I can't find a weaver who can heal him once we reach the city then I will ensure that he is buried in keeping with the customs of our people."

"Hal, where is your mother, your brother and other sister?" asked Jeanie softly.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Hal's head tilted forward allowing his hair to obscure some of his face before he spoke.

"The yeomen have momma..."

"Noah and Maddy?"

"I think they have them as well. I'm not sure. I'm not sure about a lot if the truth be known..."

"What do you think...Jack wasn't it?" asked Jeanie, recalling the hasty conversation with Hal while the horses were being stabled that had established that Jack was to be considered trustworthy and posed no harm.

"I know for certain that Sergeant Ackers has their mother. If she or any of the troop had come across the children, they would have taken them as well," said Jack. "From the evidence on the trail, we think Maddy fought with some of the yeomen and lost. We did a thorough search and found no trace of a body."

"Girl has spirit," said Ambrose, an appreciative tone to his voice. "No way she went easy. Too much like her mother."

"Of that husband, I have no doubt," said Jeanie. Reaching behind her, she twisted her long dark hair up into a high pony tail that revealing a small delicate point to her ears. "On a related note, Hal...how much do you know about that ring you are wearing?"

Hal turned his hand around taking a closer look at the ring. "Everything. It's my father's birthright. How much do you know about it?"

Jeanie exchanged a glance with Ambrose, and at his subtle nod continued speaking.

"I know it is the ring of the heir to the Kingdom of Cantia. I've never seen that particular ring before today, but I saw similar ones on the fingers of King Justin and Queen Aldeberge when I swore an oath to serve the crown."

"Like Jeanie, I've never seen that particular ring before today either," added Ambrose. "But I have also seen your grandparent's rings. I even kissed them when they offered me the farm."

"Cantwara militia?" asked Jack, canting his head slightly to reappraise the bigger man.

"Yeah...I'd completed my ten and was looking to leave and take the five hectares I was entitled to by service and rank. Jeanie had already had our first two children and we wanted to raise a family in peace with the little money we had saved. That was just under twenty-two years ago. You can imagine our surprise when the King and Queen invited us to a private audience and offered to provide me with an even bigger pension and land grant than I would have got as a three termer. All I had to do for it was accept the specific twenty hectares they offered me...this farm...and promise to come to the aid of their son and daughter-in-law should they ever need it."

"We'd intended just to be friendly neighbours originally as your parents were unaware that we knew who they really were but I think your momma was feeling a little lonely when we called around and well...we formed a friendship that developed from that," said Jeanie. "We took the task as a duty...but over time it became something we would have done anyway for a friend without the promise of all this..."

"Wait...Hal's royalty?"

Ambrose turned to his eldest daughter, Sara who along with two older other siblings had been listening raptly to the conversation going on around them.

"Yes, Hal is technically Lord Henry Amherst, second in line to the Kingdom of Cantia," said Ambrose.

"Bet she didn't know that when she was kissing him," stage whispered her younger sister Rachel to Tony. In response, both Hal and Sara shyly blushed prompting a smirk from Jack.

"Oh...but it gets even wilder than that," said Hal, pulling at the ribbon buried under his clothes. Looping it over his head, he tossed the ribbon and its attached ring to Ambrose. "Do you know what this is?"

Ambrose examined the ring, noting the richness of the material and craftsmanship. On the ring was the symbol of the Angelcyn dragon, with its raised clawed front leg, and above that an image of the High Crown similar to that shown on all official documents from the Wynter Palace. Turning it over in his hand, he passed it to Jeanie.

"So the rumours were true then? Your mother was really a princess and eloped with your father?" asked Ambrose.

"She was a princess. She did elope with my father...but that's not what that ring symbolises."

"Hal...where did you get this?" asked Jeanie, staring intently at detail engraved into the side of the ring. "These are cadency marks for the first born child of royal lineage."

"That can't be," said Ambrose looking between Hal and Jeanie. "The first born child was the Wynter Lion. You aren't seriously telling me that Georgina is a man?"

"Was. Not is. I don't claim to understand it all but I do know this. My mother regardless of accidents of birth was a wonderful woman and proud mother," said Hal.

"Then that makes you..." asked Sara in a quiet voice.

"Prince Henry Amherst at your service," said Hal.

"And she didn't know that when she was kissing him either," said Jack with a chuckle, enjoying the opportunity to watch Hal squirm again.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Standing by the sink in the Paxton's kitchen, Hal accepted the wet plate from Jeanie and proceeded to start drying it, as he had every time he'd eaten at the family's house since he turned fourteen. Leaning against a big welsh dresser nearby was Ambrose, quietly drinking beer from a plain glazed earthenware bottle.

"Thank you for that lovely meal," said Hal accepting another wet plate from Jeanie. "You're a wonderful cook and I particularly enjoyed the bread. My mother never could quite get her bread to rise properly."

"Thank you Hal," said Jeannie. She gave Hal a wink before turning to face her husband. "You know you're always welcome here and it's so nice to have a man about the house who pulls his weight cleaning up after a meal."

"I harvest the wheat and slaughter the cattle to put food on the table," said Ambrose in reply with a snort of disapproval. "Besides, you always moan that I don't clean the plates properly anyway."

"Can't or won't clean them properly?" asked Jeanie teasingly.

Hal couldn't help but chuckle at the domestic interplay, so similar to that he experienced at home. He distinctly remembered his father saying that the á‰se blessed him with children so he never had to wash up again.

Her face turning serious, Jeanie reached out and gently touched Hal's arm.

"Hal, there's no good time to say this, so I'm going to say it now, okay? Stop me if I have this wrong but my understanding from what you said at lunch is that you intend to march into the public assembly room of the palace at Canterbury, convince the King and Queen of your lineage using the ring and sword, and then raise an army to march on the Wynter Palace and take back your mother and avenge the death of your father?" asked Jeanie.

"A little over simplified but, yeah, basically. Why?"

"Because it's a stupid plan," said Jeannie.

"Well what choice do I have?" asked Hal, putting down the plate he had been drying. "It's not like I can get a private audience with the King by just sidling up the gates and saying 'psst! let me in to see the King, I'm his grandson, honest!' is it? The only way I'll be able to get in to see him is during the public petitions session. In case you haven't noticed my sole assets are a couple of yeomen, a dire wolf and my father's ring and sword. I have to hope that by creating as much noise as possible and using the public testimony of the two yeomen that I can pressurise the High King into returning my family. If the King of Cantia can sway enough of the other Kings to our cause, the High King can be made to acquiesce. It's not like the High King is going to just return my mother if I pitch up at the Wynter Palace and ask for my mummy back is he?"

An agitated Hal slid to the floor with his back against the kitchen wall, and pulled his knees to his chest.

"I wasn't raised to be a leader or a diplomat or a prince. My father is probably dead. The á‰se only know what has happened to my sister and brother and I'm kind of making this up as I go along, running on bravado since yesterday. I had to do something...or I'd just have curled up into a ball and stayed there. If you've got a better plan...please...let's hear it."

"Okay...well, the ring combined with my contacts will get you a private audience with the King. I can guarantee that much."

"Wait...your contacts?" asked Hal. "I thought it was Ambrose who was in the militia?"

"Yes, that's true. Ambrose was in the militia. He left after reaching the rank of sergeant-at-arms in fact," said Jeannie, her voice filled with pride. "However, I also worked for the Cantwara Crown."

"Were you a lady-in-waiting? Is that how you have contacts with the King?"

Jeanie let out a light giggle, a broad smile on her face as she recalled the past.

"I was many things. I was a lady-in-waiting, a scullery maid, a baker, a flower seller and more...but that was always in the pursuit of my true occupation."

"Which was?" asked Hal, his curiosity peaked.

"I was a...creative problem solver...for the crown."

"What does that mean?"

"You had to go and ask," grumbled Ambrose, closing his eyes and slumping back against the dresser.

Jeanie reached behind her apron and pulled a small throwing dagger out from behind it. In a flurry of movement the dagger had flown from her hand and was projecting from the wooden dresser just above Ambrose's head. Open mouthed Hal turned from looking at Ambrose, to Jeanie and then back to Ambrose.

"I also bake," said Jeannie smugly before selecting another dirty plate to wash.

 

~o~O~o~
 

The Clan Laurel Refuge, The Downs Mountains

Woden's Day 24 April EY 2471 - Early Evening

Nori pulled a chair up next to the bed and took a proper look at Madeleine for the first time since she was found by his rangers. The dark brittle skin from the siden burns had been changed to a more normal angry red burn by the efforts of his weavers. Within a few hours, the only mark left from the incident would be the faint scaring from small shards of siden embedded in her skin that they couldn't remove. What worried Nori more was that none of his weavers could tell him what the effect of having the shards of siden stone trapped in her skin would do to her. He hoped whatever it was that it wouldn't be harmful to her.

"Unexpected...but fortuitous..."

Nori turned at the sound of the woman's voice to see the matronly form of a middle aged human materialise at the foot of the bed. Fussily adjusting her oversized red bow around her neck, she also fluffed the bun her hair was tied up in before gracing Nori with a smile.

"She nearly died Saxnōt," said Nori, turning back to face Madeleine.

"But she didn't and your people saved her."

"You didn't know that though!" shouted Nori, rising to his feet. "You would have let a child die!"

"I think by human standards, seventeen is considered to be nearly an adult. But as I said...this development is unexpected but fortuitous. It provides a valuable new piece for the board. When will you be returning her to her brother?"

"When I'm confident that she will be suffering no ill effects from the siden shards."

"You don't have to worry about that."

"I'd rather take the advice of my own weavers and physics first thank you," said Nori indignantly.

"Her welfare is secondary to that of the role she can play. I had thought her mother would be crucial to my goals but now I see other options available. More reliable options not tainted by prophecy."

"I've met the Wynter Lion. You will be hard pressed to find a more loving and honourable person."

"That was before, when Daniel was alive," said Saxnōt. "I have read the paths. If the High King restores her to her original form then the outcomes are not good. Not good at all, unless you consider a bitter, rage consumed, insane warrior king to be your idea of a good ruler."

"And you want to put the child in the way of that?" asked Nori.

"Not particularly. However, if it saves the three billion lives on this planet...then the needs of the greater good must take precedent over the welfare of this one girl. Rest assured if Herla wins you will all die, crushed beneath the might of the Angelcyn High King."

"I don't believe that the life of one innocent is ever an appropriate trade off, regardless of the outcome."

"You will honour your promise to Sir Thomas," said Saxnot, her face a mask of exasperation.

"I gave my oath. We aelfe keep our oaths."

"I sense trickery, my Lord," hissed Saxnōt, moving to stand behind Nori. He started slightly when he felt her hands on his shoulder.

"I've already given my word to Sir Thomas that she would be returned to him when the time is right."

"Yes...but is your definition of when the time is right the same as mine? I would hope that you wouldn't be trying to deceive me Nori Davlinnsson...I have many agents here on Eorá°e who could make life difficult for you and your clan."

"Difficult? How do you make life more difficult for a dying race?" snarled Nori, shrugging the hands off his shoulders. "The star fall that shattered a continent and killed the Old Worlders deprived my people of the cure for the affliction that limits our ability to bear live offspring. We were just about maintaining a static population until the massacres committed by King Theodore pushed my people's numbers below that which is viable. If it wasn't for our long life spans we'd already be a footnote in history and as it is we will be extinct as a clan within three generations and as a race within five. No one clan on its own has a viable population base and even if we merged all the clans together we would only delay the inevitable. Already Clan's Eagle and Granite are lost to us...their remnants scattered and absorbed into the others."

"I understand that Lord Finn believes he has a solution. Is your need for personal power greater than that of your peoples survival?"

"Finn is a bigot and a fool. I...and my people...would rather Clan Laurel ceases to be, than join that man and his twisted plans to use fire siden to ensure the survival of Clan Blackthorn. I'd rather die an aelfe than live as the creatures his people will become. Besides, the human children we rescue and that opt to stay with us will ensure that our culture if not our bloodlines will survive in some small way. Finn treats the human children his people 'rescue' as little more than chattel. It is the fault of his people than the humans mistrust us in the first place."

Saxnot bent down to stroke a stray strand of hair from Madeleine's forehead.

"Suppose it doesn't have to be this way, My Lord Nori? Suppose your people can have their fertility boosted to human norms. Imagine Dweorgas families with three or even four children rather than the one or sometimes two you have now."

"Two in itself would be a miracle. Our people have struggled to have more than one live birth per family for the last five hundred years."

"Mother and daughter must be reunited," said Saxnōt. "It is the only way to ensure my victory. Do this for me and I in turn will grant your people an enhanced reproductive rate for five generations and...I'll heal your son as a sign of good faith. In return, I want your oath, given freely now, that you will have mother and daughter reunited before the anniversary of the High Kings coronation."

"Do you know what you are asking? The risk to the girl would be extreme," said Nori. "Our people consider harming a child to be the greatest crime imaginable."

"I know what I am asking. Madeleine's condition is unexpected. In most of the time lines she died in that confrontation with the yeoman or shortly afterwards. That she survived in the prime reality is something that Herla would not have counted on and even now I'm working to obscure her existence from him. So if you think about it, she is - on the balance of probability - already dead."

"You heartless ba..."

"Ah-ah-ah!" said Saxnōt, wagging her finger in front of Nori. "That's no way to speak in front of a lady is it?"

"You are no lady." snarled Nori. "You're not even human are you?"

"No...I'm not human anymore. Once I was but not now," said Saxnōt sadly. "Your oath, Nori."

"I want Gareth healed now, as proof of your intent," stated Nori.

"That is acceptable."

"Then I, Lord Nori, give you my oath that I will reunite this girl with her mother before the anniversary of High King Henry's coronation this coming May."

In response Saxnōt snapped her fingers.

"If you speak to Lady Snorrisdottir tomorrow morning you will find that she had a document in her possession that will heal him all along without realising it. She will find the document later tonight."

"Then I will honour my promises."

"Ensure that you do Nori," said Saxnōt fading from view.

Slumping back into his seat, Nori placed his head in his hands.

"Nori Davlinnsson, what have you got yourself into this time you old fool," he whispered to himself.

 
To be continued...
 
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to either comment, pm or kudos me in respect of the Wynter Lioness so far. It's been hugely appreciated on this story, given the length of it and of course, like all authors, comments do help encourage me. Hopefully, the current popularity boost of the fantasy story might garner the odd new reader, which given a further drop in reads last chapter would be welcome! At just over 12,000 words this chapter is probably one of the longest yet. I just couldn't break it without the final scene with Lord Nori though, so it felt right to go over my normal 10,000 words. Expect a chapter a month from now on with the story finishing late 2011-ish.

As usual I would also like to thank Persephone for inspiring this with her story 'The Frozen Balance' and without which this story wouldn't be here.

A quick mention to the Dweorgas. Modern fantasy dwarves and anglo-saxon / norse dwarves are not quite the same thing. I have taken elements from both in my Dweorgas with a heavy reliance on the beauty of norse elves and other elements of them. What fascinated me most about them is the association with 'black' or 'dark' elves in early norse literature and I've played with that a lot. I did forgo that early norse dwarves were human height compromising on them being short but not really, really short. One of the things I really wanted to get away from was the whole bearded bit as well, so that's gone. Think of them really as short elves who are good with metalworking and caves. As for the metrical 'Charm against a Dwarf', it does actually exist and can be found by a google search fairly easily. It's open to a lot of interpretation but the view I liked was that "among the Germanic peoples nightmares were believed to be caused by various wights who attack people in their sleep and then take their souls out for a ride' The mare was apparently a metaphysical wight whose whole purpose in life was to ride both men and horses in their sleep. In the morning men so afflicted would wake up exhausted and it was believed that if a man or horse were so ridden long enough he would die of exhaustion..". So, that was the bit I absorbed into my world for the meaning of the charm.