It was later the next day that Yngvarr brought them to a sudden halt, much to the exasperation of those behind him. This was not the first time that day that he had done so, with the Northman cried out pointing to some point west of their current position, “There you see? There were horses over yonder.”

  As this was not the first time that he had done this, Ardwulf grew agitated and scolded him, “There is naught there save shadows.”

  “I could have sworn that there were deer though, deer trailing us that way.”

  “I’faith has he lost the last of his wits?” Daegan growled to herself.

  “Let us pray this is not the case,” Wulfnoth retorted before he squinted in the distance, “Though I do think that I saw over between those distant oaks, horses or deer also.”

  This was scoffed at by the rest of them, with only Cormac and Vragi looking pensive and offering to scout by the oaks in question.

  The kindly offer though was a veil for their true intent; that is to explore the forest all the more. Seeing through them, for he was not blind to them or their fascination with the history of the forest and the Elves, Bardulf refused as he ordered them to continue on the road.

  The only ones permitted to veer off the path were Ardwulf and himself, and those occasions were only for hunting the odd deer a few hours before dark.

  “There are many dangers that lay hidden within the Longwoods; it would be wise not to tempt fate any more than we already have.” Bardulf counselled wisely, with a troubled glance around them.

  *****

  This ruling was abided by all of them, for another day. But it was Daegan herself who was to break the creed laid down upon them all, by the Wolfram. She did not do this wholly knowingly though, at least this was the thought that ran amok in her mind later.

  It was early in the morn’ with Yngvarr and Wulfnoth both having fallen asleep during their watch, Daegan for her part having the night before espied a small clearing near the road that stretched south. One that appeared to house a small pond, where it was her hope, that she might wash her long tresses in it.

  Forbidden from approaching it the night before, Daegan could not quite understand why she was not permitted from seeing to simple cleanliness. Especially after Ardwulf had been permitted to explore near there during one of his hunts the prior night, this in mind, Daegan defiant as always decided to explore the large pond.

  It was a large clearing at least a league wide, and half so long with colossal alder, oak and ash-wood trees that loomed high over head. It was with quite a bit of amazement that Daegan saw that on the other side of the large yawning pond that was almost a lake, a small islet with a mighty ash in the center of it with deer, squirrels and even what appeared to be some beavers though she was not entirely certain.

  This ash was the only one she had seen in all her time in the Longwoods, to rival that of the oak of Ciaran. So mighty was its trunk, so high did its branches reach with this one casting as long a shadow as that other great tree. A small sliver of silver lay before it, in the shape of a large silver fountain in the shape of a horse.

  This Daegan did not see at once, caught up as she was in the washing of her hair, cupping what water she could and dropping it onto her head, occasionally dipping her head so that her hair tangled down amidst the clearing’s water.

  As she worked, a tune came into her mind and as always she thought back to songs and tales of old that she had heard.

  This time, it was a travel-song that she recalled, one that her father had sung one night after he had returned from Sgain. Tucking her into bed he had told her this was a song that was fast-growing in popularity in the great city.

  “O’er the hills most cold,

  Past shining rivers,

  We all must away, regardless the shivers,

  For there past the Wend there is gold,

  Past the pines and oaks,

  We may croak,

  We may shiver at the wind,

  We and the cedars may wince,

  Aye, a hearth is golden,

  But the isles are calling,

  Westerly hills are braying,

  This all must see ere we are beholding

  To wife and infants,

  The White-Isle where the suns sleep,

  In the sea most deep,

  Calls to all men of Caled blood,

  Though the ship may flood,

  The White-Isle Sistine calls!”

  At the first, she was not certain she saw aright, but to the east of the pond or at least what was east for her, there appeared as from a mirage after some time a bridge akin to the one her and her friends had crossed some time ago.

  In the midst of washing her hair in the nearby water, which was the clearest water she had ever beheld in all her life, Daegan jumped a little to see the bridge appear as from a dream.

  Beautiful as the other one had been, it was however considerably thinner in wideness, being large enough for only two horses to trod upon side-by-side.

  Pausing mid-wash, the maid glanced behind her as the thought of awakening her companions crossed her mind. She rejected this idea though, a heartbeat later aware that they would only usher her away from there.

  This Daegan did not wish for, rather she would prefer to explore the isle in question along with the bridge that had appeared from nowhere.

  Intrigued Daegan knew that Cormac might never forgive her, for going exploring without him therefore she promised him if in her own heart and mind, to go fetch him once she was done.

  Surely, he might forgive her if he were to join her later, therefore she would have to be swift if she wanted to show the islet to him, before Bardulf or Wulfnoth awoke. The former was an early riser who had a maddening habit, of regardless when his watch was, of waking up just before or after the first crack of dawn.

  This she resented for exploration was in her blood, as surely as it was in Cormac’s.

  The bridge was similar if without the ramps to either side of the bridge. Racing along it Daegan stared down at the water, loving the sight of the fish that swam just below the shallow surface though she was rather disappointed that she had not changed much in appearance.

  Setting such petty matters aside though, Daegan hurried to the islet her heart pounding with the excitement that always came with exploration.

  The tree loomed ever larger than when observed at a distance, this fact did not slow her for one second as she explored the rest of the islet.

  At the center of it, just as she had observed from the mainland, stood a silver horse fountain, though there was a small circle of water that had formed a miniature pond beneath it’s back-hooves which the whole of its weight stood upon, so that it jutted out of the water as it reared up with its hooves reared up in defiance to the bridge.

  There was one prevailing factor that stood out about the large horse that stood a head taller than any of the war-horses that Bardulf had brought with him; this was statue was the finest craftsmanship imaginable.

  So detailed was it that the statue appeared to her green eyes to even be in possession of veins! It all but glowed with the light of the suns which bounced off the silver structure so that it appeared as though there were hundreds of silver-suns in the clearing.

  “Beautiful,” She gasped in awe.

  It was then that she noticed when she studied it closer, how there appeared to be a broken point on the summit of its head.

  Another gasp escaped Daegan’s throat at the discovery, a wave of sorrow filled her heart then. For it seemed to her that the statue had been permanently marred in the worst act of vandalism the blacksmith’s daughter had ever seen in all her life.

  Daegan felt an itch at the back of her mind one that reminded her not of the song from earlier, but of another she had once heard. This one was unlike the travel-song. It was about unicorns. As a young lass she had been enchanted by tales of the great horned-steeds as any lass was.

  The knowledge that unicorns only strode out from the forests for maiden who sang to them, of things such as love and faith, had been an overriding concern of Daegan’s when she was little older than five years of age.

  “Once there was a King’s daughter,

  One fairer than fair,

  The moon without master,

  And the suns adored this maiden-fair,

  She though was loveless,

  For all she saw was her mirror,

  O! But the moon’s heart did flutter,

  And the suns did blush,

  A word she could not utter,

  For in the day’s full flush,

  Silver maned stood the lilac-steed,

  Fair the maid was yet fairer still

  Was the lunar charger!

  Horn golden, eyes a-thrill

  to behold, bright as the martyr,

  O! Is it any wonder she lost her heart?

  For unicorns are the moon’s silver-chargers!”

  The song was one that felt pulled from the depths of her soul. Once it had waned, along with the fierce longing from her childhood, Daegan waited a few minutes with bated breath. There was naught that happened. Frustrated she kicked at the ground, at first several pebbles that lay between the mosses that grew on the islet.

  It was as she did so that her foot struck something that glinted in the sunlight, and that appeared harder than the pebbles. Bending down to pick up the silver gleaming piece of metal, Daegan was amazed to discover what appeared to be a long horn almost half a meter in length of silver. When she touched it though, it felt more like marble stone, with the lass studying it closely in confusion.

  “What is this?” She asked herself as she looked around, only to come to a startling realisation and to look up at the statue. There was indeed, what appeared to be a broken section near the summit of the carved horse’s head.

  Later she would not be able to explain why it was that the thought came into her mind, seeing as how it would likely need to be re-carved into the statue. But it came into her spirit to climb up onto the statue, to place the horn back where it belonged.

  In her girlhood, she had occasion to attempt to climb Ciaran’s oak’s many branches, in competition with Cormac and Indulf. This had been a game that her father had disliked greatly; fearful as he was for them he had discouraged it once he had found out, about it.

  Placing her legs upon the thighs of the lower legs of the horse, Daegan stretched out with both hands at the upper hooves. Stretching as best she could for those upper legs it took her some time to catch a-hold of it with her hands. By then, her lungs heaving and her arms straining until they groaned with pain from being stretched too far.

  Gasping and panting, as she pulled herself up after leaping at those arms, Daegan horn in hand now had the task of placing the horn upon the brow of the fountain. This part took another long moment, as she had to flex her arm to its utmost length once again.

  Once this accomplished, somewhere in the back of her mind she thought she heard a noise, a peculiar one that made her leap a little in surprise, just as the horn latched into place.

  The sentiment of exultation she felt, lasted a whole of several seconds before she fell over onto the moss, with a groan of pained surprise as she lost her hold over the legs of the stone-horse and fell to the left of the fountain. Whereupon she lay stunned and relieved once she discovered that none of her limbs were broken, the fall having been broken by the spring moss. The moss was as cold as the water itself, and about as wet, with the shivering Daegan regretful that she had left Cormac’s cloak by the camp.

  Looking up hopefully though, she felt her hopes dash themselves upon the alder-stones of the bridge when she discovered the unicorn-fountain still reared up, though its horn pointed up a full meter above its head.

  Strange, I thought it was only half the length of a full meter, Daegan mused certain that she had measured it quite properly in her mind’s eye.

  “Dae where are you? Dae!” The panicked voice of Cormac resounded from whence she had come, so that she jumped a little.

  “Cormac I am here, by the pond,” She shouted back though it was not as amazing as she had hoped it to be Daegan still felt confident that the sight of the unicorn-fountain would prove itself a remarkable discovery. Excitement for this reason filled out her voice so that it trembled a little, as she leapt unto her feet to wave her hand at him, turning her back to the statue. “You really must see this! It is incredible!”

  Cormac soon emerged from the other side of the underbrush, searching about with his eyes cast in every direction, before his neck snapped straight, once he noticed her hopping up and down and screaming his name. Hurrying over to the bridge, he met her halfway on it with a worried expression that warmed her insides.

  “Dae why did you wander off? Bardulf told us not to!”

  “Aye, but you really must see this Cormac, there is a unicorn statue, one that I fixed by latching the horn back a-top its head!” Daegan boasted proudly, pleased by her accomplishment and pointed behind her to the fountain.

  Cormac glanced, only to stare in bewilderment first at where she pointed, then fixedly at her. “Dae, I do not see anything.”

  “Just look you fool,” Daegan snapped before she glanced back over her shoulder herself, to find that the unicorn-fountain had indeed disappeared.

  The disconcertment she felt then was the most bewildering thing she had ever experienced in the whole of their adventures, up to that point in time. She gaped at the empty spot, once occupied by the strange silver-marble statue, before she turned her head back to stare at the exasperated Cormac.

  “But it was there, I swear it Cormac” She told him desperate to convince him of the veracity of what she spoke of.

  She could tell though that he did not believe her. Ordinarily he might have, but he was still half asleep and demonstrating the same sort of scepticism that Kenna had towards him, he in turn cast it upon Corin’s daughter, as he took her by the wrist to drag her back to the encampment where their friends still were.

  “Come along Dae, I have just about had it with your empty boasts and grand-standing,” Cormac complained pulling her back to the campfire.

  Once there she gave up if bitterly upon trying to convince him of the veracity of what she had accomplished, complaining under her breath, before she at last glared at Cormac. Angry with him for not believing her, Daegan refused to speak to him for the whole of the next two days for behaving himself akin to how Kenna had. Though she loved Kenna, she had little need for her disapproving nature.

  Bardulf for his part was to waste an hour shouting at them, about the importance of heeding his counsel. About the dangers that still haunted the Longwoods. “This forest may no longer house Elves, but it still has dangers and shadows of the bloodshed that took place here more than a thousand years ago. Therefore be careful.”

  *****

  On they went, with the woods stretching forth for another several days, before Bardulf announced that they were near the place where he had left his companions. According to the talkative Vragi, they had left fourteen others near there, in the shadow of what they had termed the ‘star-tree’.

  A term that served to confuse and amaze his companions, with Cormac and Daegan both having a thousand questions about it, despite their displeasure towards one another.

  “Wait until we have arrived,” Vragi muttered with a small laugh.

  “Though do be wary of any shadows you see, for it was there that it is said that those Elves who refused to leave this place, were hunted down by Roparzh the Reclaimer.” Bardulf informed them mournfully.

  “How could he do so, I thought this was always part of Caledonia,” Trygve asked startled by this sliver of knowledge that had just been passed down to them.

  “Borders and marches change lad, they change,” Yngvarr stated harshly, from where he was positioned at the front of their troupe as always.

  The trees all around them continued to loom greenly over them, their roots reaching deep into the earth with their green leaves fluttering high over all of their heads. The farther they went on, the longer the echo of the earlier song that mocked Yngvarr days prior remained with them.

  The lot of them were amazed some time later, to find themselves moving uphill with the path breaking in two. The first stretched to the left the other continued straight on, with Bardulf heaving a sigh of relief at the sight of this fork in the road.

  “We are near to the end of the Longwoods,” Bardulf declared tugging on the reins of his charger to pull it towards the left-hand path. “We must go this way for now.”

  “Aye, the suns have begun their descent.” Vragi noted with some concern.

  This information served to alarm Bardulf who appeared divided, only for him to nod his head to his companions. Trailing after him, they followed him up a large earth-mound upon which sat the largest of all the trees in the forest.

  As they craned their heads back, to stare up at it in search of the summit they could only imagine that it stretched upwards of a hundred meters with the trunk almost half this length in girth and wideness. The bark of this tree was greyer than the rest, lacking the greenness of its neighbours though its foliage was far greener and blotted out the skies.

  It was difficult for all of them not feel small, or to keep from gaping in awe at the majestic sight of this king of the Longwoods. For what else could one term, such a majestic tree?

  Its crown was green; its raiment a bark thicker and mightier than steel and its arms could reach into the far corners of the Longwoods. All who wandered through the forest, it had to be said did so in its thick shadow.

  What was incredible to the eyes of those who had never wandered into this forest, was the sight of the large opening that stretched almost twenty meters off the ground and was half as wide, in the center of the gargantuan tree.

  Stunned Daegan, could only turn to Wulfnoth and Vragi whom she rode next to, to ask of them, “Incredible how did such a tree and opening come to reside here?”

  “I know not,” Wulfnoth confessed adding absent-mindedly, “‘Tis the first time I ever set eyes upon it.”

  “Wait, I thought you had traveled all throughout the Lairdly-Isle,” Trygve queried from where he rode next to Cormac and Indulf just in front of them, glancing over his shoulder to study the druid.

  The Brittian bristled a little at the implication beneath those words, those that hinted that the quarter-Northman thought him some sort of liar, “I have! It is just that I have always travelled around the Longwoods, as most people do.”

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  “It is faster to cut through them though,” Indulf pointed out.

  “Aye, but I have long preferred not to do so,” The druid replied haughtily, he took a swig from the tankard he had swiped that morning from Yngvarr without the barbarian having noticed. “By Fufluns, this mighty oak is likely the mightiest of all those I have ever seen.”

  “Aye, it has everything, height, majesty, greenness,” Daegan uttered in awe.

  “Horses,” Cormac supplied helpfully, pulling a nod from her.

  “Aye, horses- wait what horses? Are you trying to make me appear the fool again Cormac?” Daegan growled earnestly infuriated by his addition of the word horse.

  “You are so capable at all that you do Daegan, you hardly need any assistance in such matters,” Indulf remarked with a smirk to his brother who guffawed.

  Glaring at them, as she could sense that they were mocking her, though quite wherein his speech he had done so she was not certain. This little exchange for some reason, to her embarrassment bemused those two men who rode to either side of her, as they joined in with a small snicker themselves.

  What none of them expected though, was for Cormac to persist, pointing as he did so in the direction of the right-hand corner of the tree near where the mound descended on that side towards some of the great trees that encircled the great oak that loomed over them all. “Over yonder, there are horses.”

  Daegan followed his finger with her eyes, prepared to denounce his statement at once, only to grudgingly acknowledge that yes in the distance, there were more than a dozen horses grazing and trotting about free.

  “Amazing to find so many wild horses, all in one place,” Wulfnoth remarked without too much interest, “I must confess that nature has a way of always taking one’s breath away.”

  Ardwulf did not answer immediately, but he and Yngvarr both cursed a moment later, after they had squinted in the direction of the aforementioned chargers.

  The two might well have taken off after them, leaping down from their horses both full of wrath they were however brought to a sudden halt by their chief who called out their names in a commanding voice.

  His voice might well have been the thunder itself, so swiftly, so thoroughly did it cut through the darkened air that stunk of moss and horses that both men stopped mid-leap. Their heads spun around to gape at the Wolfram who stared past them at the horses, from the rear of the small troupe.

  “We must tread lightly, my brothers,” He uttered solemnly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Remember when we left this place, we had ordered Kaldrin and the rest to properly tie the horses, yet they run amok and without their bridles or saddles.”

  “What do you mean? Those are not wild horses?” Trygve wondered, staring first at him then at the horses in question.

  “No they are not,” He confirmed with a frown.

  They might have asked further questions, were it not for Bardulf dismounting from his war-horse, stomping away into the interior of the king-oak. His mien was a dark one; his brows knitted together yet his shoulders square in the manner which Daegan had only ever observed in her father. It was the way a warrior ought to look, she thought to herself.

  One day she would surely square her own shoulders so effortlessly, in that manner just as surely as Cormac would and if he kept to his day-dreams she would push him as Kenna did to be more of a man.

  This she thought right and proper to herself, as she leapt from her horse only to hiss as she always did for her legs felt weary after so long a-horse. Some such as Wulfnoth and Vragi followed suit, as did Indulf and Cormac neither of whom looked at all pleased about entering the tree.

  Trygve for his own part refused steadfastly to enter it, “I feel we might be best served by someone remaining outside to keep watch here.”

  “No need to worry, Yngvarr will keep watch outside,” Bardulf snapped back at him.

  “I truly think that I could best serve us all by staying where I am,” Trygve persisted the same nervousness that always entered into his eyes whenever and wherever these days, he saw a tree that appeared unnatural to his eyes.

  Daegan opened her mouth to accuse him of cowardice, yet was not as swift in speech as Wulfnoth himself was, for it was he who intervened in favour of the youth. “Surely two guards mayhap be best, and I fear that Yngvarr wish his swift-axe might be best brought along with us. Might I not suggest Vragi be left outside?”

  Vragi appeared as though he might prefer to go inside, but a significant glance sent his way by the druid made him re-think his stance on the matter. “Aye, I could remain outside with Trygve if that seems favourable to you Bardulf.”

  “Very well, if you think it best Wulfnoth,” Bardulf conceded with visible reluctance, motioning for them to follow him inside.

  The skies had by then darkened some, though the stars had yet to appear overhead with Daegan initially once inside struck by the darkness of the tree’s interior.

  A touch nervous, she almost decided to turn back, reaching out she felt a flood of relief when she felt a hand enclose over her own and the druid’s voice penetrate the darkness, calling out the names of their companions. “Daegan? Bardulf? Cormac? Where are the lot of you?”

  “I am here, brother Wulfnoth,” Indulf piped up from his other side.

  They stumbled through the darkness, linked together by hand if reluctantly so in the case of Indulf, with each of them calling out to their friends.

  This lasted but a few seconds before Wulfnoth all but at last ran into someone who was knocked forward off his feet with a small cry of surprise. Their eyes by then adjusted if to a limited extent, and with the little light of the suns giving slight visibility, they could now see Cormac kneeling in front of the druid.

  “Watch where you step,” He remonstrated with more sharpness than any of them, had expected to hear from him.

  “Sorry,” Wulfnoth said at once, before he offered him a hand to help him regain his feet, “I must confess that I did not see you there lad.”

  Ignoring the exchange between the two of them, Daegan took to observing their surroundings astonished to find the tree interior to be a almost entirely hollowed out. The walls were bark-filled with the center of the ‘room’ notable for what could only be described as the tree’s spine with this trunk rising from the ground rising up to the summit of the tree.

  It was a strange sight, the red-haired lass’ gaze drawn from there to the sides of the hall where hundreds of branches hung from not unlike ropes. Just past them, Daegan found in particular past the branches near to the entrance that there were rather queer looking images engraved into the very bark of the tree.

  The images were strange; she thought to herself as she examined it more closely, it was crudely done with the face bearing the appearance of a man in the midst of screaming. The next image bore a similar expression upon his face, though his image was that of a Wolfram.

  Disturbed by this, Daegan would have liked little more than to warn her friends of this disturbing imagery, had she not been distracted by the conversation taking place between Cormac and the druid, who asked of him, “What is it that has you so distracted lad?”

  “Up there,” Cormac stated pointing upwards, with his childish eagerness that never failed to bemuse older men into wishing to take him under their wing, as though he were naught more than a child who might have need of a father or grandfather.

  “Aye the summit of the tree,” Wulfnoth remarked without too much interest.

  “Look up properly, brother,” Bardulf encouraged from the left-hand side of where they stood in the middle of searching about the interior of the king-oak they found themselves inside of.

  This he did, as did the other two of the original companions from Glasvhail, none of them certain of what it was they expected to find.

  Whatever it was, it most certainly was not the heavens overhead, with the foliage seemingly clearing itself from up above them, so as to give them as clear a view as humanly possible. Such was the detail of the heavens that Daegan could not stifle the gasp that came to her throat then.

  There was not a cloud, not an inch of the darkening skies that they could not observe at that moment in as much detail as they liked. Each of them stared up in wonder, because so near did the heavens appear to them at that moment.

  “How is this possible?” Indulf wondered straining his neck to see as much as possible.

  “This place must have been special to the Elves much as Sgain is to us!” Cormac guessed enthusiastically, a wide toothy grin on his lips.

  “Aye, it must have belonged to them,” Wulfnoth agreed at once.

  “That is not quite right,” Bardulf corrected from one side, “Wulfnoth Wilder-Elves never believed that the land belonged to them. Just as the Caleds believe that man belongs to the land and to the mountains, the Wilder-Elves believed all belongs to the land and the trees.”

  “What is the difference between those two philosophies?” Daegan asked confused, by the emphasis he put then upon the two different views of the world.

  “There is a great deal of a difference, for to you Caleds the mountains and promontories and land itself, is all-important. To Elves the trees have more value, with the cliffs and mountains hardly being trusted.” Bardulf went on to clarify in his patient manner, shaking his dark-haired head a moment later, he grumbled more to himself, “It is strange. I can find no trace of my men.”

  “Maybe they left,” Cormac suggested errantly, hardly paying any attention to him.

  “If you have little to add, keep staring up at the heavens lad,” Yngvarr growled back at him without any hint of patience in his voice.

  “Impossible,” Bardulf said in an agitated voice, shaking his head he moved to the other side of the central trunk to continue his search alongside Ardwulf who had disappeared, in the same direction. “They would never abandon their duties, for we bound by birth as much as by pact.”

  It was a turn of phrase that many Wolframs who had come to Corin’s shop, or to Kenna’s had used in relation to those they belonged to the same ‘pack’ or tribe as. A loyal breed, Corin had once told Daegan that there was not a single Wolfram who did not believe in such ideals, and would not die before he abandoned his friends and kindred.

  “What was this place to them?” Cormac wondered once again, his gaze upon the heavens, his soul full of awe and wonder.

  “Mayhap an observatory,” Wulfnoth proposed causing several of them to jerk their heads now to stare at him in surprise, “I had heard they had their own.” This seemed perfectly reasonable to the lot of them, thus they returned their gazes to the study of the rising moon above them. “I do wonder if they have any wherever in the north they went to.”

  “One could only hope,” Daegan murmured in response to his statement, her own state of mind dreamy now.

  “Are you all quite finished exploring yet?” Trygve shouted from outside of the tree, his voice anxious and grating.

  “I shall go,” Indulf decided irritably, “He is determined to comport himself as childishly as possible.”

  Outside a heartbeat later, not that Daegan paid him much mind. Cormac losing interest in the heavens, as the stars had yet to come out took now to studying the interior of the tree with idle curiosity.

  It was as he did so that he gasped, startled from her continued examination of the heavens she found that he had at last took notice of the paintings upon the walls, doing so just as the night darkened.

  “The walls, they have these strange paintings,” Cormac said with big round blue eyes.

  “What?” Once again Wulfnoth was startled from his thoughts, and followed the lad’s finger. Once he did though, as he could not properly see in the dark, he leant closer to the walls only to study the walls more closely. It was with a start that he uttered with utter revulsion, “What ungodly images, they all appear as though they were strangled.”

  “Aye, I do not much like them,” Daegan added, “I noticed them shortly after we had entered this place.”

  This might have been all there was to the conversation, and they may have left without any further trouble or sorrow had Yngvarr not begun to complain once more.

  “I shan’t see a thing,” He grumbled reaching down for a nearby stick, before he pulled out two pieces of flint with which to start a fire.

  “What are you doing?” Ardwulf asked him as he circled back from the other side of the trunk in the middle of the large hall.

  “What do you think I intend to do? I intend to start a fire,” He growled back as though it were the most apparent thing in the world.

  “Inside of a tree?” The scepticism in the quiet Wolfram’s voice could not be mistaken, for anything else.

  “Aye, just a small one as I do wish to see my hand before my face, before it gets too dark.”

  It was subtle, but Daegan noticed when she returned her stare to the tree-wall, some of the branches that hung from the ‘ceiling’ of the tree had changed positions. Some had lengthened it seemed, still others now trailed the ground of the cavernous oak’s interior.

  This change was one it took her several minutes to take note of, and when she did she was more bewildered than truly frightened or alarmed. The change was so minute that the red-haired lass could hardly bring herself to feel alarmed by it.

  Cormac for his own part also stared, though his expression was rather more alarmed than her own, he swallowed audibly before he murmured. “I do not much like this place anymore, Dae.”

  Daegan intended to scold him, when she felt Wulfnoth’s hand upon her right shoulder, “Wulfnoth do leave me be.”

  “Pardon?” Wulfnoth said from some point in the same direction.

  “I said to stop touching me.”

  “But I shan’t reach you lass,” The druid told her wryly, pulling her gaze from its examination of the wall so that she could glance in his direction. He was indeed quite some distance away, at least four meters away with his gaze fixed upon the wall near to the entrance, the nearest arm to her in the middle of stroking his moustache.

  This left her confused though she returned to her study of the branches. It was then just as the sound of the flint once more striking one another, Yngvarr cursing that she felt, the same barest touch of a hand upon her cloaked shoulder.

  “Cormac, you had best leave my shoulder alone,” She hissed at him certain it was him now who had laid his hand upon her shoulder.

  “It was not I Dae,” He whispered back, glancing in her direction only to freeze with his mouth gaping wide open with a paralysed expression of shocked horror.

  Confused by this response on his part, Daegan shot him an exasperated look, “What is it now?”

  “It-it- it is a branch!” He hissed back at her, pointing now at her shoulder.

  Waiting a few seconds before she jerked her head to the right, Daegan found once again that he was right. There was indeed a branch that hung down brushing against her shoulder, occasionally poking at her, at other times it merely touched her. In all it appeared to move with the wind that could be felt from the doorway of the tree.

  This appeared to distress Cormac, who sought to pull her away from it, which she resisted, “It is but a lingering branch, it is simply moving due to the wind.”

  “Nay that is not it Dae,” he hissed back, only to raise one of his hands with a blank look on his face, “The breeze is very weak.”

  “What of it?”

  “The branch is moving against the breeze, and appears to be curling in on itself,” It was with a flash of realisation that Daegan leapt forward. The knowledge that the branch was moving of its own volition, just as those in the other forest between the two southern baronies frightened her, so that a scream was torn from her throat.

  Her hand went straight to the unicorn-hilt her father had forged for her the miniature horn receding though she only noticed this absently in the back of her mind.

  Startled into action by her scream, Bardulf was halfway across the hall in a few steps, eyes fixed upon the branch that dangled before the two youths. Ardwulf and Yngvarr for their part now armed with newly lit torches were by Cormac’s side in a heartbeat.

  Wulfnoth moved almost too slowly, leaping back at the same time that the warriors leapt forward, the branches of the tree near the image that he had been examining flashed into sudden action.

  The sudden movement caught all off-guard, as they moved in a manner akin to darts, their bark darts as one might call them cutting through the cloth of his robe.

  The motion was swift, with the movement taking place in a matter of seconds with Wulfnoth letting slip a great scream of his own now that penetrated the depths of the blackness of the king-oak, as surely as it did the very souls of his companions.

  The old man fell over, with Ardwulf by his side waving the torch his friend had just lit, at each of the branches shooing them away. They slunk back as swiftly as they had struck out.

  This all happened in the periphery of Daegan’s vision. For in the same instant that they struck with the fury of a thousand knives, the branch that lay near her shoulder now took up the same fierce disposition as those near Wulfnoth. Her hand went instinctively to Cosantóir’s hilt whereupon she might have struck out with the pale-blade were it not for the sword itself.

  In Glasvhail, the blade had slid from its scabbard as easily as a fish might be dragged from the water if it so willed. In the thicket of this battle, the blade remained caught.

  Trapped inside the sheath her father had put together, with such loving care. Thus Daegan could no more remove it than she could lift the king-oak from the ground.

  The branch might well have gone through her skull, were it not for Bardulf pulling her and Cormac clear with a jerk of his hands. Seized by the arms, they tumbled backwards to the ground, both with cries of surprise as the branch reared back at the approach of Yngvarr’s torch.

  “What is this?” He yelled in alarm, as scared as Daegan herself was.

  Her legs would not listen as she stared, eyes wide and brimming with tears, her heart in her ears. Her mouth opened and closed with shock, wherefore she rolled over at the urging of Cormac.

  Why was apparent, in the next second, after the branches near to the wall she had stood near to slashed and stabbed down where she had previously been.

  Disappearing into the darkness of the walls, just as Wulfnoth screamed with pain, clutching at his bleeding legs with trembling hands. Pulled to safety by Ardwulf, who somehow (likely thanks to the gem, she thought enviously) had escaped the grasping branches of the trees, the druid attempted to pull himself into a standing position only to fall back to the ground.

  “It cut my leg,” He cried with a whimper of pain, one that made Daegan’s heart ache with sympathetic pain for him.

  “Why are they attacking us?” She asked with such fright as she sought to pull the sword free once again. Once again to no avail.

  “What difference does it make? Just unsheathe your sword!” Yngvarr bellowed back at her.

  “It is stuck!”

  A curse escaped his lips, with Bardulf quick to lend his aide before he concluded also that the sword was indeed trapped. Far from being as vulgar as his companion, the Wolfram calmly liberated his sword from its own scabbard, moving as he did to shield his friends.

  “It is indeed the case Yngvarr,” He said before he swiped with his long-sword at the nearest branches which reared away from him faster than the silver-flash of steel could cut at them, regardless the speed with which it moved.

  “What are we to do?” This time it was Ardwulf who spoke, fury in his voice at the branches that continued to avoid his torch.

  The battle such as it was remained this way for some time, with those outside unawares of their plight. Wulfnoth moved to tear apart strips from his robe with fumbling hands, hissing in pain as he did so.

  They might well have continued to swat at the branches, until such a time that they dropped to the dirt in fatigue, only to be picked apart by the branches.

  However, Bardulf ever quick of eye as he was with steel, took notice of the images upon the walls, able to see them thanks to the light provided by the torch Yngvarr held up to the left of him. Just as Cormac and Daegan had, the Wolfram gaped with wide, round eyes at the murals that decorated every inch of the walls of the tree.

  Shock and disgust may have decorated the walls of the hearts of the innocent youths, yet where Bardulf was concerned disgust engraved itself far more deeply into his soul.

  “By Ziu,” He uttered, making reference to his favourite god, “That’s Kilvan and Grados along with the rest of our companions… but how?”

  “Keep fighting man!” Yngvarr shrieked, continuing to wave his torch at the hundreds of branches that poked out and prodded every few seconds.

  “Maybe they did something the tree did not much like,” Cormac said helpfully, back on his own feet to the left of Daegan herself, both of them standing just a few feet behind the two warriors.

  “Be quiet,” Yngvarr growled as always, filled with dislike for the younger blonde lad. “It is a tree, not some living thing.”

  Another wave of the flame followed, though this time Daegan could see from the corner of her eyes the shadows of other branches moving about all around them. Her gaze attracted to some point over their heads, worried that several of the branches may rain down upon them, with renewed fury from every direction.

  This fear came into her mind, at the thought of how the roots of the branches could not be seen, and given how no matter how far they backed away from the sides of the tree the branches continued to rain down upon them.

  “Aye, aye though the Elves always spoke of how all trees have life,” Bardulf replied to him, correcting the Northman in a far less frantic voice than that utilised by him.

  The why of an attack had never worried Daegan before, though in this case she could not help but ponder; why it had not attacked them sooner? Her eyes going instinctively to the torch Yngvarr wielded one-handed. It was just before they had lit the torch, or was it immediately afterwards? She could not quite place it in her memory.

  “Mayhap it attacks us, for fear of fire,” She said loudly, her thoughts torn from her lips due in no small part to the fear that continued to overwhelm her.

  Bardulf paused in his slashing long enough, to study her from the corner of his eyes, before he turned to Yngvarr, “Yngvarr give me the torch.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just do as you are told.” The command was forced out with such force that the man from north of the Glacial Sea, nodded his head reluctantly before he passed the torch along. Waving it himself now, Bardulf hissed in frustration before he murmured, “We must extinguish Ardwulf’s torch also.”

  The last statement was soon repeated in a yell, in the direction of the named Wolfram, who for his own part shook his head in stern refusal to obey the order. The refusal on his part to do as bidden, by his chief earned him a stern glare from the two warriors and a panicked cry from the druid who had yet to bind his leg.

  Continuously forced to back away, his leg bleeding profusely to the consternation of his friends, this was what excited Cormac thence into action, as he pulled himself from behind Yngvarr and across the now shortened distance, between them and Ardwulf.

  “Cormac!” Bardulf shouted in surprise and fury at the same time that Daegan did.

  The tree branches did not give chase after him, neither to bind nor to pierce with those branch-tips that akin to sharpened blades. They went on to ignore him, as he threw himself against Ardwulf and struggling for the torch which the Wolfram sought to retain a hold of.

  In the end the wood gave out first between them, falling to the ground where it might well have lit the grass aflame if it were not for Cormac’s booted foot slamming down upon it.

  Ardwulf for his own part drew his sword faster than thought, and he might have struck out against the fisherman’s son with it, if it were not for the branches that sought to strike at him. Driven by fear, he fought them off, swinging blindly at them with the air of a man possessed.

  The branches struck then from behind, they sought to strike at Yngvarr’s back, only to bounce away due to his hauberk.

  Daegan was right behind Bardulf, and might well have been hewed apart were it not for Bardulf seizing her and throwing her to the ground. A cry escaped her lips, with the lass horrified when she felt herself being seized by her left leg.

  Panicked she realized then that another branch had slipped past the Wolfram as he waved the torches behind her, and Yngvarr who let loose a great leonine bellow of pain. Pulled up, Daegan had a sense that all she had witnessed, all that she had done in the whole of her life flew past her field of vision.

  Fear seized her by the throat, as she distantly heard someone cry out her name, likely Cormac, before she found herself being pulled alongside Wulfnoth of all people by the branches. There were thousands pointed at them, with the two stiff with the fear of the king-oak.

  They could see the branches poising themselves, and guiding them towards the walls of the tree several meters off of the ground where their friends stood.

  Scared of what had happened to her friends, Daegan at first squeezed her eyes closed, a prayer on her lips, it was a prayer to Orcus, the god of the dead. For only he could help her now, she mused to herself as she felt tears fill up her eyes at the thought that she was to die that day.

  It was sudden, but just as darkness returned to the interior of the oak, the fire lit by Yngvarr sputtering out thanks to Bardulf.

  By then Daegan had re-opened her eyes, much to her regret she might have preferred a small amount of light, for now her imagination was loosed as an arrow from a bow-string. She imagined all the nameless horrors, all the wickedness the tree might well inflict upon her and Wulfnoth, whimpering she closed her eyes once more.

  What Daegan could not have expected, was for the tree branches that held her and Wulfnoth so tautly, to go slack. Falling some distance, she landed upon her rump, on the moss with enough force to make her hiss and curse. Next to her the druid landed, on his injured leg which drew a sharp cry of further pain from him.

  The branches slack now, and with Cormac at her side once more, his blue eyes shiny with concern as he gripped her by the shoulders determined to inspect her for any injuries. “Dae, are you injured? Speak to me!”

  He babbled several times, before she pushed him away with scarlet cheeks and a smile on her lips, “I am quite well thank you Cormac.”

  He accepted the rebuff, with a small protest though, “You should still sit there, do not move too fast, Dae.”

  Pleased by his concern, she basked in it for some time before she turned her concern from her own self, to Wulfnoth whom drew both their attention with his own curses and pained whimpers, “By the bones of the paragon Raghnaid and the ashes of her mother Rodina!”

  “Brother Wulfnoth, let me help you,” Cormac offered at the same time that Bardulf moved to assist the old man.

  “It appears that Daegan’s guess was correct,” He remarked as he assisted the druid, “It was indeed the fire that angered the tree- there you see?” Now he pointed one claw at the branches, “They twitched ever so subtly at the mention of the word.”

  This knowledge frightened Daegan, who stated with absolute firmness, “I say we go, and do not look back at this horrid thing.”

  “I quite agree,” Yngvarr stated in a shaky voice.

  Ardwulf for his own part grumbled beneath his breath, with Cormac the only one to glance up and to whisper in awe as Wulfnoth was taken from him.

  Seeing this, Daegan followed his gaze, and though she was awe-stricken by the sight of the great multitude of stars that loomed far overhead. They scintillated more brightly than they had ever appeared to before, with Daegan though numbed to their beauty in that instant due to her brush with death.

  Cormac took the longest to exit the tree, only doing so when Daegan called out to him impatiently, to which he called out for them to wait.

  Once outside they found that Vragi and the brothers had disappeared with Bardulf disturbed by this, ordering Ardwulf to go out in search of them. Just as he did so, the trio appeared from the bottom of the mound.

  “Apologies Bardulf, the horses took fright all of a sudden, we only just regained control over them,” Vragi apologised only to call out to them, “Did something happen? You lot appear as though you just had a brush with some phantom or other.”

  “We will talk on the road. We will rest once we have reached the Mound of Griogair.” Bardulf growled gruffly, keen to escape from the king-oak, mounting upon the horse that Vragi had reclaimed for him with nary a look at the other Wolfram.

  *****

  “I am rapidly growing to despise trees,” Trygve muttered once he had heard the whole of the tale from Yngvarr, Daegan and Bardulf. “Why must they continuously attack us so?”

  “It was hardly its fault, the king-oak was frightened I think by the sight of the flames,” Cormac retorted quietly, “And the stars were beautiful, from within it.”

  “Bah, it is a tree why should we care for what it ‘feels’?” Trygve wondered with this the general view of all of them.

  “I most wholeheartedly agree,” Wulfnoth grunted his moustaches quivering, no longer in as much pain due to his leg having at last been bandaged, he had shown little tolerance afterwards for the tree.

  Cursing it, its forbears and any other trees born from its acorns though others such as Vragi and Cormac reprimanded him for his harsh words, not that the druid would let himself be dissuaded from his anger.

  “I am not so certain that it was entirely horrible,” Cormac whispered, “The Elves made it or enchanted it in some way; there must therefore have been a reason for this.”

  “What worries me most is what became of our friends,” Ardwulf grunted before he turned an accusing glare to his chieftain, “You believed they would be safe there.”

  Bardulf did not say anything in response, preferring to fall silent and focus his mind upon the road.

  The shadow of the memory of the strange murals, the manner in which the tree calmed itself all served to make Daegan shiver in disgust. She for one was more than anxious to reach the Mound of Griogair.

  This thought entered her mind, at the same time that she noticed how grim most of her companions were, save for Cormac. He had eyes for only the stars, a hummed tune upon his lips, as he studied the stars up above them with a pensive look on his face. Doubtlessly pondering what his father or Inga might well have thought of the tree.

  For once, Daegan could not help but resent and envy him all at once. His passion for all things Elvish, imparted to him by Corin and Murchadh, who had been prone to talking to them of Elves and fey in their infancy. She wished she had never heard of the Elves then, especially if they had indeed wrought evil such as the king-oak as they had taken to calling the observatory-tree.

  All through the night they rode, shadows at their backs, stars shining throughout all the heavens and the ground earth-work looming before them as they left the Longwoods in the distance behind them.