Lera challenged.

She was fed up, and annoyed. She drew her sword, and nudged her mount toward the man standing in the glade. He was tall with long, blonde, flowing hair and was smooth shaven. Lera presumed he was the leader.

“Who impedes the ride of Her Highness, Princess Tegalie?” Lera shouted.

The blonde man laughed. It was echoed by his companions in the trees.

“Cát cräpó prín te carseantri fali nasëo mo caragol,” the man said.

Those in the trees laughed again.

“Nócát ë i thö nasëo,” he asked.

“Answer me!” Lera demanded.

The blonde man grinned. “Why?” he answered. “Why should we not just shoot you here and now? Put you out of your misery. It’s clear you do not care for your own.” He indicated Ganthe, who swayed in the saddle senseless. “This...man...is injured. Are you not a priestess, sworn to care for others?”

“Myn āletheder!” Lera swore as she leapt off her horse to tend to Ganthe. “Falduin,” she cried.

Lera and Falduin lowered Ganthe to the ground.

“Sunna, I’m fine” Ganthe said.

The blonde man and his band of merry men and women watched all this with barely concealed amusement.

“What do you want?” Heric asked prompting Rianio forward.

“The truth,” the blonde man answered, although his audience wasn’t Heric, but those in the trees. He played to them as though he was an actor. “Not some nonsense story of Princessess’ out riding. This is not a time of lies and folly, but a time of candour and prudence. I will ask you again, why are you here?”

Before Heric could answer, Ifonsa’s sorrel cantered in. The saddle was empty.

“See!” the man said, “You have already lost one of your number. This forest is dangerous. Who knows, anything could happen to you. Just imagine, fúf,” he blew on his finger tips, “and you’re gone. Nobody would ever know.”

The sorrel brushed past Rianio, and trotted right up to the blonde man. She stopped and bowed her head to him, her hoof stamping once on the ground.

“What trick is this?” The man asked, then suddenly stiffened. He uttered a frail gasp of surprise, as though he had suddenly discovered something especially sharp prodding his most tender spot.

“Ë i hé an xlías te ësthlats,” a voice whispered from behind him.

The knife appeared behind the man, resting upon the side of his throat. It was followed by the short-cut mane of red hair: Ifonsa. Only then did the man’s companions react: with astonishment.

The man laughed nervously, “Good evening, Röá,” he said. “Is that Mairpeanlo’s knife?”

“Of course not,” Ifonsa said sheathing her knife as she emerged from behind the man. She addressed her companions, “My friends. This man is a loathsome scoundrel. I warn you now. He lies, he cheats, and he is...” she looked at the man, “a competent archer.”

“Hey!” the man interjected.

“His name is Gadfri. And he is my favourite cousin...except for all the others I have.”

Ifonsa and Gadfri embraced warmly.

“We have a problem,” Ifonsa told Gadri.

“I know,” he replied. “Mairpeanlo sent us to help.”

As Lera tended to Ganthe, the others prepared for battle. Gadfri barked orders and his companions slipped away into the shadows. Meanwhile, as Heric, The Princess, and Fahesha dismounted, they argued.

“I am coming,” Tegalie insisted, “I saved you.”

“No, no, no, no,” Fahesha muttered, “Cannot”

“Listen to...” Heric hesitated at the name.

“Fahehsa,” Tegalie said, handing her the reins of Blossom.

“No one remember Fahesha,” the little woman murmured.

“Fahesha,” Heric continued. “Listen to her.”

“I am going,” Tegalie said. “I am a princess.”

“So it’s back to being a princess now? What happened to,’ just call me Teg?’”

“We don’t have time for this,” Tegalie said as she drew her sword and stormed back the way they had arrived.

Heric handed his reins to Fahesha, then followed after Tegalie into the forest as he protested.

“Do you need me?” Falduin asked Lera.

Lera shook her head, “Go.”

Falduin hurried after Heric and Tegalie.

“Stay safe,” Lera called after them, belatedly.

At the same moment as the argument, Ifonsa and Gadfri were conferring.

“Are your trainees ready?” Ifonsa asked.

“Are yours?” Gadfri shot back.

“My people have killed a score of goblins including their king. They’ve been on our tail for the last two nights.”

“And you led them straight to us.”

“I sought the safety of my home.” Ifonsa hesitated, then said, “Pöi, they are accompanied by... something I’ve never seen before. It carved it’s own path through the fae wards.”

“We’ll stop it,” Gadfri said “The Old Magic still prevails. Now, what do you need?”

“Arrows.”

Gadfri indicated the area of forest behind where he had originally stood. Ifonsa quickly resupplied and then the two of them sped away.

That left Lera, Ganthe, and Fahesha alone in the glade, with two torches tied to the branches providing illumination. Lera chanted and gently massaged Ganthe’s forehead. Fahesha gathered all the horses together, muttering to herself the entire time.

The chorus of insects harmonised with the gentle wind humming through the boughs and rustling leaves. Occasionally a bird crooned a loud recitation. The forest exuded a feeling of peace and tranquillity.

Lera was reminded of a spring afternoon during the War of Liberation. Their compound had been established a few leagues east of Attenbach, which was a major staging point at that time. It was located in a dense forest, not unlike the one where Lera now sought to heal Ganthe. The Imperial troops had been routed at the Battle of Vorc Hill several weeks before, and everyone was waiting for the inevitable response.

Lera was just a novice then, under the guidance and tutelage of Sister Elean and Sister Sinda. Elean had seniority, in fact she would eventually become a Reverend Mother, but Sinda was a curious one. She was always getting into trouble, as a result.

Rumours persisted that for months after the Arch-Priest’s visit, Sister Sinda had delved for the missing Nëmhan Scrolls, seeking high and low for them. Ultimately her search bore fruit: she had found them, hidden in some out of the way place.

There were other rumours however. It was said, that upon translating and reading them, Sister Sinda found the scrolls so scandalous, going against established doctrine so sacrilegiously, that she hid them again. Some even said she burnt them, although Lera did not believe any of that.

On that beautiful spring day, Lera did not know any of that, Sister Sinda was a splendid teacher, who was very passionate about her work, although she did appear a little quirky at times. She would often peer off into space for long moments, and speculate weird questions afterwards. She once asked Lera, what do you think the colour blue tastes like? Several times during silent prayers she gasped suddenly, as she came to a realisation. Often she would leap up, leaving the vigil, to dart away to write the thought down.

It was Sister Sinda that suggested they take a walk outside the compound, Lera did not know if there had been any preparations beforehand, but Sister Elean agreed and after obtaining permission from the Reverend Mother, the three of them walked out the gates and entered the surrounding forest.

The compound was located on a rise, cut from the forest - the wood used to create the surrounding palisade and gates. They headed down the hill, strolling in the afternoon sunshine. They chatted away, without a care in the world.

Within an hour they had passed all the sentries, which Lera didn’t feel was safe. However she remained silent and didn’t complain. Novices were expected to be seen and not heard.

After another hour or so, they reached the bottom of a vale, filled with enormous trees, their silver trunks reaching up more than a score of paces to the canopy above. They wandered for a while, aimlessly it seemed to Lera. Yet she began to suspect that Sister Sinda was seeking for something.

At one point they found some falls blocking their way. Instead of turning back. Sinda darted across the precarious stones at the top. She didn’t even look back to see if Sister Elean and Lera had followed her.

Eventually she led them to a cave opening, secluded and difficult to find. Inside, crystals of many hues radiated an ethereal glow. Lera found it a wondrous place filled with light and echoes, almost like a hypnotic music.

However, Sinda was not satisfied. She led them deeper into the cave until she came to a waterfall. The water tumbled down into a green pool, streaks of sunlight from above catching motes drifting in the air.

The surface of the stream was silvery smooth like a looking-glass, but instead of seeing themselves reflected they saw a two men peering back at them.

One man was tall and proud. He wore burnished scale armour, that at the time Lera though was gold, but now she suspected was actually brass. It was of an ancient design, she had only seen as drawings from those remnants that had survived The Breaking of the World.

The other man was short and had a crooked back. He leant heavily on his gnarled staff made from blood-red wood.

The two men were talking, but Lera could hear not hear their speech.

“That is En and Kobanongar ,” Sinda said proudly.

It was a bold claim. The two of them had been at the forefront of the armies that turned back the Demon Horde. If doctrine was true, they had also passed through the Demon Portal, entering the Underworld. There they had bravely fought a Demon Lord, holding it at bay until the portal was closed and they (and the Demon Lord) were forever trapped on the other side.

Lera didn’t know what to make of it. Sister Elean had argued with Sinda all the way back up to the compound. However, Sinda was adamant. When asked for proof, Sinda simply said, “I will show you once we have returned home.” She meant the nunnery.

However the compound was in the process of being torn down when they reached the summit. The Imperials had been seen gathering at Henefeld, and the army was moving to confront it.

A few weeks later a small group of Imperial archers broke through the Morgaine lines to infiltrate the compound they had established near Henefeld. Their archers’ assault had been devastating, with many soldiers and followers cut down in a rain of arrows. Sister Sinda was amongst the victims. She had died in Lera’s arms taking her proof with her to the grave.

Suddenly there was yelling in the distance. The insect chorus fell silent and even the breeze lulled. The battle had begun.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, no no no no.” Fahesha murmured.

Ganthe groaned and tried to sit up. Lera guided him back down.

“Rest,” she said.

“I have to help,” Ganthe protested.

“You’ve done enough for now. Save your strength for tomorrow.”

“What happens tomorrow?”

“At this rate I expect we’ll be fighting giants, demons, and maybe even a dragon.”

Ganthe grinned. “I would like to see a dragon.”

“You’d want to climb up and cling to its back while it swoops down spewing death upon your enemies .”

Ganthe’s grin broadened, “That would be nice.”

Shouts and screams rang out from the trees around them. Closer now.

“What did you see in the faerie realm?” Ganthe asked.

“Many strange things. Some wonderful. Some ghastly.”

“Did you see me?”

“No...,” Lera said.

Ganthe waited for her to say more but she remained silently pondering. “I saw you,” he said. “At least I think I did. You were an eagl-”

“I think it would be better if we kept our dreams to ourselves.”

“Dreams?”

“We passed through the Land of Dreams. I don’t know how, but I do know that is where the fae dwell.”

“I saw Ifonsa,” Ganthe said.

“As did I. But for her I believe we would all have become lost.”

Close-by there was the sound of running through the undergrowth. A shriek of pain echoed through the night and something fell heavily into the leaf litter.

Ganthe tried to rise again. “We need to leave,” he said.

Once again Lera guided him back down. “Not yet.”

“At least put out the torches.”

Lera hesitated. She didn’t like the thought of being thrust into darkness.

“It will draw them to us,” Ganthe implored.

“I believe that is the intent,” Lera said, after reflecting on the matter. “We are the bait.”

“I do not like being bait.”

“Neither do I.”

“Move the horses closer.”

“Fahesha,” Lera called.

Fahesha’s head popped out from behind Rianio’s flank. “Huh?”

“Bring the horses closer. So we can defend them,” Lera said, “And you.”

Fahesha grumbled, but she complied, leading their mounts over to stand behind where Lera knelt.

“How do you feel?” Lera asked as she removed her hands from Ganthe’s forehead.

Ganthe squinted up at Lera. “Who are you?” he asked, then suddenly grinned. “You’ve gotten even better at this.” He sat up.

“Funny enough, I have had an awful lot of practise over these last weeks, plus Falduin has-“

Something crashed noisily through the undergrowth. A goblin warrior, tall and ready for war burst into the glade. It’s curved sword already stained with blood. It stopped and blinked in the suddenly brightness.

Both Lera and Ganthe scrambled for their weapons. Lera glanced towards her shield, hung from the horse. She would need to do without it.

As Ganthe stood he wavered, then stumbled.

“Ganthe,” Lera called, but Ganthe waved her away as he regained his balance.

The two of them held their weapons before them, ready to battle the goblin

The goblin however ignore them. It’s gaze fell upon the tiny woman.

“Fæ-he-sha,” it growled.

“Oh no,” the little woman moaned.

The goblin launched itself toward Fahesha raising its blade up over its head.

All of the horses, but Rainio and Ifonsa’s sorrel, squealed and bolted leaving Fahesha standing alone with the warrior bearing down upon her.

Lera shifted, placing herself between the goblin and Fahesha.

The goblin unleashed its mighty sword, swinging it down at Lera. Lera parried with her own weapon. Yet, despite grasping her sword with both hands the blow almost drove her to her knees. She staggered, and the goblin was quick to take advantage. It snapped a vicious attack at Lera’s ribs.

If it had landed with the full force, the assault would have sliced through Lera’s armour, and perhaps her as well. Instead, at the last moment, Ganthe had slashed his knife across the goblin’s unarmoured forearm. The goblin’s strike slammed into Lera’s left side. It bent the rings of her armour, and drove the wind from her.

The goblin’s foot snapped out at Ganthe, as he was positioning for another strike. Ganthe tried to dodge but he was caught mid-stride. The kick caught him in the side, knocking backwards onto the ground.

Lera peered up as the goblin loomed over her. She was defenceless. She couldn’t even take a breath. All she could do was watch.

Yet the goblin stepped over her and swung its sword up to strike at Fahesha. But the attack never landed. The goblin staggered, once, twice, three times. Then it toppled, falling forward onto its face. Three arrows protruded from its back.

“Sorry, we’re late” Gadfri said.

And Lera’s lungs remembered how to work. That first breath was filled with fire. She would have screamed if she had any air to spare. Then there were many hands helping her. She saw that others helping Ganthe to his feet.

Lera watched in a daze as Ifonsa sliced the fallen goblin’s throat with a wicked looking knife. Then others poured oil upon the body and Falduin set it alight. The flames roared up immediately, filling thing the glade with an eerie green light.

Then Falduin came to her, “You’ll be fine,” he told her.

Lera blinked at him confused. Wasn’t that normally what she said?

“We routed them,” Falduin explained. “But at heavy toll. We need to leave before they can regroup.”

Lera nodded.

She was lifted. Falduin reached out and took her hand. He walked beside her, holding her hand as they quickly fled the glade.