It was nearing midnight. A dark, moonless night had swallowed the land like a choking miasma. Ploughing through the dreary murk of the darkness, three horsemen rode fast for Elmstead, heedless of whatever hazards might lurk invisibly in the darkness along their path.

Up head, a few bright specks were just visible in the gloom. There were lights in the town of Elmstead. Apparently the three horsemen were not the only ones where were awake at this unwonted hour. The whole town it seemed was alive with revelry. In a short while the riders had approached the gates, and were passed through. They avoided the streets full of merrymakers, and instead made their way around the perimeter to the other side of town where Wickhowe’s army had previously made camp.

Hae-jin rode now through the empty encampment of the nobles. Beside him was the Earl of Donnock and Will Little, who bore a lantern with him which cast a few amber rays upon an oppressive scene which was only faintly visible in the darkness. Where a day ago there had been a bustling tent city filled with redoubtable soldiery, there was now only detritus and bare ground beaten and denuded with the passage of so many feet.

The effect of the desolation was magnified in the obscurity of the darkness. For despite the apparent emptiness of the place, of the nearly four thousand soldiers who had previously been quartered there almost a fifth still remained. Here and there now a few isolated shelters loomed into view in the darkness as Hae-jin passed by. And up ahead, there was a bright orange triangular glow from a fire within one of the great tents. As Hae-jin and Little approached they were met be a pair of deferential squires, who took change of their mounts and bade them enter.

Inside, seated alone on a simple folding chair, was the Earl of Swinstoke.

Of Wickhowe’s followers, only Swinstoke had remained remained behind. Some eight hundred men from both his own retinue and that of Donnock’s were all that remained of the once mighty host which had made their lot with Robin Goodfellow.

“Damndest bit of treachery as I ever saw. You should have heard the man! No sooner had you departed for Larchester did Wickhowe start spreading his poison. He said that you had given up, that you were a broken reed and had betrayed the cause (which seemed true at the time), that we had all made a mistake in joining forces with you and that we should leave you to your fate and carry on ourselves. No offense, mind you, but the old liar was right about that part, or so it seemed under the circumstances. I mean, we hadn’t any notion you were going to break the curse and all. Damned silly of you not to have told anyone, look at all the trouble it caused! You could have at least trusted me, I wouldn’t have uttered a word to anyone, not a word! Anyway, once we heard the news about the curse and all Wickhowe changed his tune. Or rather, he adjusted the lyrics slightly, if you know what I mean. He said that you had compounded your betrayal by joining forces with the king, and would soon be turning on us. I for one said he was being an ass and that we should seize this chance to drive out Gurth once and for all. But Wickhowe, he’s a slippery one. Now that I think about it, I don’t think he ever gave a damned fig about getting rid of Gurth. It was always about the king. Bradlaw is weak, and Wickhowe is ambitious. I shouldn’t wonder that Wickhowe hopes to depose the king and replace him with one of Bradlaw’s miserable relatives, so that Wickhowe himself can run the show from behind the scenes as Lord Protector of the realm. It’s just the sort of thing he would do, the wretched blighter! Anyway, Wickhowe insisted that our only option left was to join forces with Gurth. Can you believe it! Wickhowe said that a temporary alliance with Gurth was the the only way we could still hold out against Bradlaw’s tyranny. Only by getting rid of Bradlaw could we finally put an end to all the corruption and the taxes and cast off the oppression of the Tollards, after which we would be free to deal with Gurth as we wished. Again, I told him he was an ass, but he didn’t listen. And neither did any of the others.”

From outside there was a rustle, and Hae-jin turned to see the flap of the tend be cast aside and Rob Sykes stepped in.

“Hae-jin! Er, should I say M’lord?”

“No worries, my friend. How are things in the town?”

“Surprisingly good, actually. The peasants are in high spirits. The good news was well received. You and the king couldn’t be more popular. Nobody seems to realize the implications of Wickhowe’s betrayal...not yet anyway. I warrant that’ll change when it comes time to fight. With Wickhowe’s and Gurth’s forces combined, man for man I reckon we’re almost evenly matched now.”

“Except that a seventh of our side is made up of peasants, while Gurth’s forces are all proper soldiers (including the flying cavalry of the Drixi, no less). And though the curse may be broken Gurth is still a powerful sorcerer in his own right, with all manner of black magic at his command.”

Sykes uttered a low whistle.

“Lord, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We’d both better start thinking hard, my friend. Gurth is against the wall now. The hyena is at bay, and at bay he will fight.”

While Hae-jin and his captains conferred anxiously in the forlorn tents of Elmstead, in the great city of Larchester the celebration continued unabated. The traditional nightly curfew had been suspended, and the revelries continued far into the night. Deep in the great hall of Larchester Castle the king’s feast carried on unabated, where there was much merriment and abandon. Lords and burghers toasted one another’s good fortune while heavily intoxicated Wogs told lewd jokes and sang ribald songs as they danced on tables alongside the jesters before bemused nobles of only marginally greater sobriety.

For her own part, Lindsey did not partake much in the revelries and feasting. She’d endured a fair bit of privation during her long journey through the Marklands, but over the last week she’d had plenty of opportunity to eat her fill under the gentle hospitality of the nuns. Rather, having spent weeks traveling alone with two men, what Lindsey craved most was conversation with a female confidant, and she’d spent long hours talking with Joan about everything that had happened since their separation at Harin’s Vault so long ago. Even so, as the night waned on Lindsey grew weary even of talking, and at length she retired to the apartments which had been set aside for her.

Her accomodations were entirely comfortable, if only modestly exalted. She had a whole room to herself, even if it was a tiny one, with its own fireplace and a deep, warm bed best of all.

The mattress appeared to be stuffed with straw but the linens were soft and the pillow itself was filled with downy feathers. It seemed that people in Linster didn’t wear very much to bed during the warmer months of the year, but for her own part Lindsey was quite content to curl up in a somewhat baggy men’s undertunic that was just long enough to do the job. She had just slipped her legs under the covers and was leaning over to blow out the candle at her bedside when suddenly she recoiled away with a squeak.

There beneath the candle, shrunk down to the size of a large mouse and sitting nonchalantly on the ring of the candlestick, was Elred.

“Good evening, Lindsey. Just going to bed?”

Lindsey gathered the bedclothes around herself a bit as she recovered from the surprise. Now she leaned back against the pillows and looked bemusedly at the diminutive intruder.

“Hello Elred. You’ve gotten smaller since I last saw you. What the heck are you doing in my bedroom?”

Elred just sat there with his arms folded, that perpetual smile still plastered on his face.

“I thought it would be nice if we had a chat, especially after this morning. You broke the Curse of Gurth most admirably.”

“Thanks. Seen the Bird lately? I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet. I don’t suppose he’s been avoiding me or something?”

“Oh, I’ll make sure he speaks to you before you leave. As it is, you have my most sincere thanks. You have done a great and worthy deed in the service of the people of Linster. I apologize that this little excursion managed to get so far out of hand, but now that it’s all been sorted out I’m very glad to say that your services will no longer be necessary. Tomorrow I will be taking you home to your own world.”

Lindsey felt taken aback. She hadn’t thought about going home for weeks.

“Um, yeah. Thanks. About that, though. I think I want to stay here for a while longer. There’s a lot still going on, and Hae-jin and Joan are still going to need help.

Suddenly, the look on Elred’s tiny face became more serious.

“There is no need for you to remain here. Your part in this is fulfilled, there is no reason for you to be involved in the coming conflict.”

Lindsey bit her lip.

“I don’t know what you people think you’re doing screwing around with people’s lives, but if Hae-jin and the others are staying, then so am I.”

“Your role in Linster is completed. Hae-jin’s role in Linster will go on far longer than your own. This is what he agreed to in the beginning. Hae-jin knew what he was getting into (more or less), and he knew the risks he would be facing. He is a soldier. You are not.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to see this through, Elred.”

The elf was silent for a moment.

“Well. I suppose I could keep harangueing you, but I perceive that your mind is already made up.”

Elred glanced over to a darkened corner of the room, and beckoned with his hand.

From its resting place in the corner, Lindsey’s axe now shot lightly through the air. With a start Lindsey jerked out of the way even as the weapon slowed and fluttered down weightlessly onto the bed beside her.

Elred now hopped off his perch on the candlestick and leaping onto the bed he began to walk along the length of the axe’s handle, peering down into the grain of the dark bone until he reached the violet steel of the axehead.

“Vorpal is a curious thing, Lindsey. It has a certain memory to it. This particular weapon dates from the age of the great witch wars almost two thousand years ago. The original owner was probably one great warriors of that time. Given that it wound up with the Drixi, I suspect he had seen many great and terrible things before having come to a rather unfortunate end. No doubt those experiences have left their impression upon this weapon and remain within it still. There are indeed some vorpal objects which are specifically designed to impart the experiences and instincts of their past owners on to their present possessors. This axe does not appear to be one of them. However, I think I can perhaps force the matter. I’m sure what we need is already there, it only needs drawing out.”

Elred sat down cross legged on the metal, and pressed his hands into the cold steel as he concentrated.

“Yes. Yes, there it is. Are you quite sure you want to go through with this, Lindsey?”

“Um, I’m not sure what you mean?”

“If you are going to remain now in Linster alongside your friends, then you will be exposed to great danger. You will see things which no eye should ever need see, and you must do things which no hand should ever need do. You do not yet have what it takes to endure such things. Without external aid, you will surely be struck down. I can protect you from all of that simply by taking you home now. But if wish to remain, then this is the next best thing I can do for you. But you must choose now.”

Lindsey took a deep breath. She couldn’t say she entirely trusted the Good Folk’s shenanigans or approved of the way they went about things. But thus far Elred had been faithful to her. If he said she was going to be in danger, she had no reason to suppose he was wrong.

Linsey unfolded herself from the bedsheets and knelt on the mattress beside the axe.

“I’ve already made up my mind, Elred. Just show me what I’m supposed to do.”

Elred sighed.

“Very well. Place you right hand...you are right handed?...right, place your right hand on the steel.”

Lindsey laid her hand on the icy metal.

The room seem terribly quiet now. The axe was beginning to feel slightly warmer, even as Lindsey herself felt an unpleasant chill creeping up her spine.

Forming in her mind now was the impression of a man. Not an image, but rather an idea of a person, a specific human being. There was a strange sort of intimacy to it, almost as if she were physically touching him. Then abruptly, Lindsey had a feeling like that of a sudden realization, as though a puzzle she didn’t know existed had just come together before her eyes. The axe resting against the skin of her palm was more than just an exotic object to her now. It was a familiar tool. She felt as though she knew exactly how it should be handled, how it should move, and how with just the right incantations in mind she could make it do all manner of things beyond that of any ordinary weapon. As she pressed her palm harder into the metal she felt years of one man’s experience and instinct filling her mind and spreading out through her body into her limbs and muscles.

And suddenly, with a jolt through her stomach, Lindsey came to a horrible, nightmarish realization.

She was now a killer.

Wave upon wave of misery swept over her, as the shadowy memories of another person’s battles burned into her mind. Pain, suffering, and death as though she had seen it all herself, and done it all with her own hands. Worst of all, amidst the flood of memories she realized that she herself had already become a killer long ago. Far away in the lands of the Drixi, now sealed within Harin’s vault was the withered body of a Zard which she had actually struck down with her own hand. And nearer still in the woods of Skora there perhaps still lay the body of a witch, hacked to pieces by Lindsey herself as she tried to save Dackery’s life.

It was too much to bear. With a violent sob she tore herself away from the awful weapon and flung herself into the pillow, crying.

How long she lay there crying she never knew. At length, her mind slowly drifted back from the dark and terrible places, as bit by bit the nightmare cries were drowned out by the quiet refrain of a soft flute.

Lindsey pulled her head from the pillow, curling up slightly to draw her rumpled shirt back over her legs a bit.

Elred was back on the nightstand, reclining with his back against the candlestick and his skinny legs stretched out as he played pensively on a wooden fipple flute.

Elred looked up, plucking the flute away from his lips as he did so.

“Are you feeling better?”

Lindsey sniffed.

“Kind of. Maybe. Mostly not.”

“I’m sorry. It will get better with time, but I’m afraid that the things which are in your mind now will never go away, not completely. But now at least you are prepared for what is to come.”

Elred turned now to face Lindsey fully as he sat sat cross-legged on the nightstand beside her.

“You have come through much since leaving your world. You are no longer the same person you were a month ago. Hae-jin has become a new person also, and has taken on a new name. It is now time for you to do so as well. I now name you Linnian, which means Transcendent Heart.”

Lindsey sniffed again, choking down a weak laugh as she did so.

“Uh huh? Linnian? That sounds a lot like my real name, Lindsey Ann.”

“Quite right. It’s a portmanteau of your first and middle name which I made up just now, and ascribed to it a meaning which I think suits you. After all, who you really are is what always determines the real meaning of your name.”

Elred stood up.

“Sleep now, Linnian. The coming days will be difficult. But for the moment, you shall have rest. We shall speak again.”

And with that, Elred stepped behind the candlestick and vanished.

Lindsey hugged her pillow a bit closer. She felt like she was going to cry again. Bit by bit her thoughts faded into silence, as exhaustion slowly overtook her. Soon, she lay still, her breast heaving gently as she passed into a dreamless sleep filled only by the gentle melody of elven flutes.

By morning word of Wickhowe’s new alliance had spread throughout the city of Larchester. The festive spirit of the previous night had dampened a bit, as the people slowly realized that the conflict was not yet over and that war was still very likely. At Larchester Castle the king accepted the renewed allegiances of Swinstoke and Donnock, while Wickhowe and his fellow conspirators were formally attainted.

Gurth’s army had broken camp late on the previous afternoon, and according to the latest reports it was headed northeast towards Ardgar Castle, which had been a possession of Gurth’s for some time and was the nearest stronghold which remained under his control. And also according to those reports, Gurth himself had been seen among his men.

Wickhowe’s army had likewise broken camp early the previous evening, and were headed northwards themselves towards the village of Beckby, which stood now between them and Ardgar Castle. It was apparent to all that Wickhowe was intending to linkup with Gurth at Ardgar, at which point their combined strength would be very nearly equal to that of the king.

Early in the morning, the king met with his officers in the great hall of Larchester Castle, which was still strewn with the leftovers of the previous night’s festivities. The spirit of rejoicing had been banished as abruptly as it had come, and was now replaced with the deadly sobriety of the king’s war council.

With his own forces now combined with those of the Bishop of Larchester and the army of Robin Goodfellow, William of Bradlaw had nearly sixty-seven hundred men at his command. The most recent reports suggested that Wickhowe still possessed three thousand men, while Gurth commanded twenty five hundred or more from the combined forces of the Zard, Drixi, and his own men. If engaged separately, the king’s forces would likely overwhelm either Gurth or Wickhowe’s. But were the enemy to successfully marshal together, the king’s army would be scarcely a fifth larger. The outcome of such a contest would be far from certain. For his own part, Hae-jin feared greatly that the flying mounts of the Drixi and untold powers of Gurth’s wizardry could easily negate any slight numerical superiority the king might have. Therefore, Hae-jin and the king were in agreement: Wickhowe had to be stopped at Beckby, and destroyed there before he could reach Gurth. From there, the king would be positioned to lay siege to Gurth at Ardgar Castle and destroy him in turn.

By late morning, the king’s combined army was on the march, still slightly groggy from the night before. Wickhowe already had a significant head start. The king’s plan was ambitious, and his forces marched double time to quickly close the gap between them and their quarry. Yet Wickhowe continued to maintain his lead. By the next morning, it was clear that Wickhowe would beat them to Beckby.

It was with some surprise then that in the early afternoon outriders returned to the King’s army bearing encouraging news. Wickhowe had reached Beckby at noon, and after crossing the River Beck had promptly halted and made camp just north of the village. If the king pressed his march, his army would reach the southern fringes of Ashbeck Wood by the early evening and would be positioned directly between Beckby and Ardgar, cutting off Wickhowe while still almost a day’s march away from Gurth. Hae-jin was concerned by this development. It made no sense to him that Wickhowe should have given up his lead so needlessly. The king however was elated, and ordered his army forward. By nightfall his forces were in position, and they made camp in the fields south of Ashbeck wood.

And in the morning, the king would at last do battle with the Earl of Wickhowe.