It was hours later that the youth awoke in the middle of the night shivering, as the nights did become ever so cold, to discover that amongst his friends while most of them had fallen into a deep sleep, several of them had set up a guard.

  Though he could not quite see who it was at first, who sat to one side in the middle of the cell, with the realization that it was Daegan only striking him between the eyes, once he noticed that she was no longer at his side.

  In the past days he had not been aware of the arranging for a guard, nor had he noticed Daegan at any time moving away from his side, as he tended to awaken just before the dawn to find her snuggled up against his side. The sight of which never failed to fill him with a sense of warmth and a certain purpose.

  Drowsy still, with Connor and Lyr snoring loudly together with their backs pressed against one another’s back, Bardulf to one side and Calandra and Glarald resting fitfully against the rock. With Kyrenas sleeping near to his son, every night ere he would hurry away from his side in the morn’, so as to punish his son for having taken them on this quest against Kyrenas’s will.

  “Dae? Is that you?” Cormac called out quietly, which caused her to jump a little in surprise at him.

  “Cormac? Why are you awake?” She asked nervously, which was wholly unlike her.

  Informed by this tone and how she diverted her gaze from his own, that she was hiding something from him, Cormac asked of her, “Why are you awake, Dae?”

  Daegan stuttered for a few minutes, “I er, no reason at all! It is just that I could not sleep, that is all therefore you ought to sleep.”

  Quick to realize why it was that she would not answer him properly, Cormac guessed reluctantly, “Is it because of Bardulf and the rest mistrusting Andvari?”

  Daegan stuttered a little longer, before she at last conceded reluctantly with a sigh, “I-I suppose, though you did not hear this from me.”

  “Of course,” Cormac agreed at once though he had his doubts whether he could lie properly enough to fool Bardulf and the rest.

  At that moment Daegan never looked fairer to his eyes, bathed as she was in the light of the moon, her red-hair standing out all the more in the moonlight. Drawn by her beauty, for she was to his mind the fairest maid who had ever lived, easily outshining that great goddess of beauty and love, Turan, he soon found himself seated by her side.

  “Do you trust Andvari so little?” Cormac asked of her, a little annoyed at her for siding with the others against his judgement on the matter of the Dwarf in question.

  Daegan squirmed before she rounded upon him her orange freckles as the stars in the sky up above them, displeased by his words. “And what of yourself? Why do you trust him so, Cormac? Have you so little caution within you?”

  The accusation of lack of caution wounded him, with Cormac pondering this point of contentious between them, this key disagreement between them. It was now his turn to squirm helplessly.

  “It is not that I lack all caution Dae,” He replied thoughtfully, eyes going to the shadows of the cavern where he knew the Dwarf to possibly be. “It is that I pity him, and am reminded of my father when I see him. I shan’t help but think that he has suffered a similar fate to what my father endured.”

  It was a simplistic way of thinking he knew, and one that he was not certain Indulf or Trygve might have agreed with, given their more pessimistic outlook on things. But he felt certain that of their companions, Wulfnoth would have agreed with him.

  “I still think it folly to show him too much pity,” Daegan grunted in frustration turning her eyes away with a pout, “For though he may appear to have suffered in a manner akin to uncle Murchadh, he has a darker side to him.”

  “Regardless, I do think showing some pity is hardly a weakness,” Cormac persisted stubbornly pulling another grimace and sigh of frustration from her.

  “You are no different from those puppies in Glasvhail, Cormac MacMurchadh who bare their bellies for all to see and rub, unaware that there are those who might stomp upon them with a booted heel.” Daegan groused with a stern green-eyed stare that might have once daunted him into lowering his own gaze.

  The two stared eachother in the eye, with the first to back down for what felt to be the first time Daegan. She did not lower her gaze though, but returned it to her study of the stars, ere he had awoken and disturbed her. The young lass remarked almost plaintively, “I’faith, Cormac you have changed so very, very much I can hardly recognise you. I do not know when this change first overtook you, only that it must have come over you after we met Alette.”

  Her words stung though she had no knowledge of this fact. They stung, as only she could do to him, something that he was not ashamed of, for she was the most precious person to him. The realization that he no longer felt any sort of shame, towards being perceived as weak made him ponder how much he had changed, in so little a period of time.

  It was not that he intended to do something so ridiculous as to weep in public, but he could not deny that he had grown away from that lad who used to stare up at the clouds. Imagining what it might be like to meet Elves, or simply where his father had gone off to.

  This moment of awareness was brought up short, by the sight of the stars up above them. They were out in full force with Cormac startled to realize that the constellations were wholly, and completely wrong.

  They no longer reflected the tales of Cormac Stone-Giver as some knew the hero who had fought side-by-side with the Wise King, or Achaius, or even the heroic Thistle-King and his beautiful wife, the Lily-Queen. There were no constellations that he could discern, which served to bewilder him.

  “It is strange,” Daegan commented softly, which was peculiar for an ordinarily voluble young lass. “The stars are all out of order and out of place.”

  “Aye,” Cormac agreed at once, as confused as she was by the lack constellations.

  They stared for a long time at the stars. The two of them stared up for so very long that they forgot all about their previous clash. Where the two of them had previously felt near to leagues apart from one another, yet now they felt so very, very close to one another that they could have been directly attached at the hip.

  Somehow, they found their hands joined and with her head upon his shoulder.

  “They lack the shapes of our constellations,” Daegan whispered sincerely moved, “Yet are still beautiful.”

  Cormac did not answer at once. Prior to that moment, the only thing he could smell was the terrible scent of the pit and of what he had come to associate with Andvari. Only for him to feel as though he were being engulfed, by the scent of iron and the sea that he had come to correlate to Daegan herself. This scent was the most beautiful and soothing, he could imagine.

  So soft and soothing was this particular scent that he could feel his eyes begin to droop only to feel a little guilty and to glance in her direction uncertainly. Unsure of what to expect, a part of him was amused to find the lass snoring softly by this time.

  “Good night Dae,” He whispered with a small smile.

  He could not say for how long he gazed up at the stars high above the pit, the homes that surrounded it and the high-gates that surrounded the village. Higher than the highest of mountains and promontories, they shone ever so brightly that he found himself enchanted by them, for so very long that by the time he fell asleep with his back to his friends that he lost track of time.

  When he was next awoken, it was to find a dusty Andvari staring down at him with a grateful if gruff look in his eyes as he looked down at him. Frozen in place, by this almost paternal and moved gaze so that he could hardly rouse himself completely, until at last the Dwarf had addressed him.

  “Thank you, I am aware that ye did not have to offer up your food to me.” Andvari uttered softly, his voice filled with what Cormac thought to be a great deal warmth.

  The question of why he had chosen now to speak to him mystified the fisherman’s son who then asked himself, why the other man was covered in dust and was so breathless.

  This latter question was the strangest part of Andvari coming to greet him, with Cormac staring after for some time, unable to quite come to a certain conclusion on the matter. As confused by how he had gotten so much dirt, as he was by the strange affection that the Dwarf held for him.

  *****

  It was the following day that saw the Dwarves push into the pit in the ground, three of their companions; Lauma, Fergus and an unconscious Ronald. Unconscious he was all but thrown down without his staff, with the Tigrun visibly affected by what had happened to him.

  Pleased to be reunited with her sister, Calandra all but threw herself against the elder of the two siblings. Lauma herself was overcome by joy also, though hers was also demonstrated at the sight of Glarald whom she threw herself upon bodily the moment her sister had released her.

  Startled by this show of warmth, Glarald clumsily returned the embrace, ere he pulled away to discuss to her disappointment with Fergus what had become of them and how they had been delayed in their own arrival in the village.

  “It was quite the battle, I shall tell you that,” Fergus pronounced at the inquiry of those around him. Ordinarily he might have taken pleasure in the attention they showed towards him and what he had to say, however such was the weight of his concern for his elder twin that he hardly took the time to boast or over-flower his speech. “We were stricken with fear the moment we realized that the boat was being pushed towards the rocks.

  It was thereupon the boat that, Ronald first prayed to the gods for protection which they did indeed send down, saving us from the rocks though we were nonetheless cast into the deeps. It was therein below the waves that we were seized, by a large kraken I think it was, with Ronald next combating it with his magic. The light of his staff lit the whole of the sea, as it reached for each of us, at the time I was certain that it had succeeded in grabbing you also Cormac.”

  Here he paused long enough for the lad to stammer, realizing only at that time that he had when he had been dragged downwards in the sea that it was not Wiglaf grabbing at him desperately, but a kraken’s tentacle. The knowledge of how close he had come to drowning, and being pulled down to the depths of the sea made the youth shudder and freeze in place where he stood, behind the new arrivals.

  A few of them glanced in his direction, with the lad grateful when the Pardiff continued in breathless tones, “Ronald fought back with the light of his magic. Such was the force of the thunder that he shot out at the kraken that it spat out its ink, giving out a great shudder ere it released us and fled. It was a great moment, but one that taxed my mighty brother.”

  “But what happened afterwards?” Daegan asked amazed, from where she stood to the right of Cormac.

  “I caught Ronald, swimming him to safety to one of the stones where I pulled him to safety. I did not see anyone at once, with the lady Lauma pulling herself to safety. It was quite troublesome to keep her from, leaping back into the water in search of Glarald and the lady Calandra,” Fergus explained with a hard stare in the direction of the lady in question, whom he had saved.

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  Lauma had the good grace to flush red, embarrassed by her own behaviour during the tempest of the sea. After a moment of sheepishness, she grumbled beneath her breath, “It was hardly my fault; I had thought I had sighted them out at sea.”

  Calandra appeared moved whereas the male Elf mentioned by the two who had just spoken, appeared more disconcerted than overjoyed at the knowledge of just how concerned she was for him.

  Noticing now his discomfort, Cormac felt confused by it, and was left wondering if he should inquire into the whys of the relationship betwixt the princess and the son of Kyrenas, only to decide to ask at a later time. For now was hardly the time, he mused to himself, to inquire into such things.

  The question was soon dashed away as surely, as they might have been dashed upon the promontory and its surrounding rocks, as Bardulf asked a question that flitted through his own mind. “How long were you upon the rocks, by the time the Dwarves found you thereupon the stones.”

  Fergus shrugged his shoulders, “Days, I lost track of it, thankfully I was able to tie a piece of string taken from the drifting bow of either Calandra or Lauma, to tie it to Ronald’s staff. It was in this way, we caught fish which we cooked on a fire lit by Ronald, during one of his few moments of consciousness.”

  Awed by this tale of courage and resourcefulness, most of those present in the pit, could only gape at the new arrivals.

  It was Connor who asked now, as he scratched his left elbow keenly interested in this tale, “How is it that the Sea-Dwarves found you thereupon that stone?”

  Fergus winced a little; with it Lauma who answered for him, with a supportive glance in his direction so that none had any doubt of the friendship that had begun to grow between the two. “They were rowing about and swimming in some places, when we cried out for them to come to our rescue, wherefore they took us into their ship. It was then that they took us prisoners, searched about the sea for the remainder of our companions ere they gave up, took us to shore and warmed us by a fire, fed us and then brought us here.”

  “They took awfully good care of you,” Glarald remarked confused by the marked difference in comportment on the parts of the Dwarves, towards the two different groups.

  “Mayhaps, because we did not try to frighten them by drawing our swords upon them,” Cormac said teasingly to Daegan who blushed bright red up to her ears and glowered back at him.

  “Oh do shut up Cormac,” She hissed irritably.

  “It appears that you have had quite the struggle,” Bardulf said quietly, adding a heart-beat later with some small amount of tenderness, “You are safe now my friends and I thank Tempestas and Brigantia for that much.”

  “A shame Wiglaf and Indulf were not found, or Corin and Meallán for that matter,” Glarald muttered gloomily, “All of them would be of considerable aid at this moment.”

  “Aye, we should I think count ourselves, fortunate that Colwyn is absent and unaccounted for,” Lyr grunted melancholic for the absence of his uncle, yet relieved it seemed that the silk-tongued Cymran was not present.

  Though he himself heartily agreed in some limited way with the prince of ériu, only for him to rethink the situation when he pondered how Colwyn, might have convinced Thvalin and Galar to release them. If Colwyn or Wiglaf were close at hand, they might have been able to convince the Sea-Dwarves to release them, he thought without too much hope at that moment. Why should he have a great deal of hope? The Dwarves appeared utterly dedicated towards keeping them imprisoned.

  “I would not cheer at the absence of clever Colwyn, were I you prince Lyr,” Bardulf said disapprovingly, apparently as convinced as Cormac was of the value of the Cymran prince at that moment. “For though I have often had reason, to think little of him, as of late I have begun to long for his presence herewith us. I am convinced that were he close at hand, he might have already convinced our captors to release us.”

  This admission was one that had a profound effect upon the heir of Bradán the Liberator. A boisterous, cheerful youth he suddenly lost much of his good-humour in favour of a dour mood, one that was a match for Kyrenas’s own poor humour.

  Only Connor and Daegan remained firmly determined of the non-Elves to be cheery in mind and spirit, the former retained his hope if in a defiant manner, saying as he did so. “Bah, escape will come, there is always a way!”

  As to the latter, she grunted defiantly, “Well-said, we escaped from similar cages and traps long before we met the prince of Gwyneira. It is for this reason that I question your preference to depend upon him, for rescue.”

  Her words hardly inspired any great ‘hurrahs’ as she doubtlessly hoped for from her companions. Most them were far too cynical of their own chances, to sing the Dwarves into quiet friendliness, with the sisters the only ones who remained firmly of good cheer. In the case of the daughters of Arduinna; their good-humour was due entirely to their having been reunited.

  The only question Cormac had for them, though he did not pose it, as he did for himself and the two most boastful members of their troupe, was whether they truly could escape on their own? For the situation seemed to him rather more hopeless, than any of them cared to admit to.

  *****

  It was with this looming sense of doom that the dour party discussed in the days that followed what chances they may have to escape. It could hardly be denied that they could not leap up at the cells, nor could they stand upon the shoulders of one another, for it was stated by Connor that the guards had spears, and were unlikely to be frightened of their usage.

  This was the humour and mood of the blistering hot day that followed, one that had each of them sweating throughout the day and dispersing to the different corners of the cell. Three of the Elves, were oft the ones who complained the most, the sisters and Kyrenas hardly said a word against the heat.

  Apparently accustomed to such poor weather, what they did do though was to remove their cloaks those that still had them, and to simply sit in the shadows of the pit.

  Others such as Bardulf were hardly so fortunate, covered in fur as he was, the heat took a terrible toll upon him. Shedding some of his fur in droves so that he swiftly became dehydrated and fell into a terrible swoon, despite the cool shadows he pressed himself against. To one side, Fergus and Ronald were in much the same condition.

  The latter having awoken in the middle of the night ere he fell back asleep, only to awaken later that the morning to complain more than any other person about the heat. He almost tore off what remained of his robes, in his desperation to be free of the scorching heat of the suns.

  This state of near frantic pain came to an end the moment he noticed his staff, currently held by Lauma, “Return that at once,” He hissed in a fury, taking it roughly away from her. Wounded by his tone as much as the rude manner in which he treated her, she did as bidden if against her will.

  Once he had his staff in hand, he pulled himself to one side of the cavern with Fergus whereupon a blue glow began to emit itself from the staff, one that served to cool the two of them resulting in the Tigruns letting slip sighs of joy.

  Later, after the delivery of food to the pit in the ground, Cormac was to discover when he was tasked by the others with the duty of dividing and handing over the delivered food between each of them that the blue glow which was spread in a three meter diameter served to cool the two. It was soothing and refreshing for him also, when he stepped into the circle of light emitted by the staff’s crystal.

  He was swiftly chased away though by Ronald who told him, “I can only generate such cool air for two, three people will only serve to over-tax him, before the suns have descended.”

  “Why not blast away the bars of the cell though?” Daegan asked of him, wiping at her own brow with her forearm, grunting and complaining beneath her breath from the corner of the pit she sat in, hiding away as the rest had done from the scorching heat.

  “And what would that then accomplish? I would then have to engage in combat with each of the Dwarves, whom would doubtlessly overwhelm me with their numbers.” Ronald countered at once, his voice both sardonic and bitter all at once.

  Daegan fell quiet, as disappointed as the rest of them were.

  Though Ronald would not have it, Fergus soon took pity upon the struggling Bardulf and insisted that he switch places with him. Grateful the Wolfram did not stay by the sorcerer’s side for long, preferring to soon move back to his prior shadowed corner. It was Connor who next took his place, having struggled himself with the great heat so that he had stripped himself of his hauberk.

  All this went on against the will of the feline-sorcerer, who grumbling beneath his breath bowed his head to the wishes of his kindlier and far less gruff brother. The Bairaz soon sighed in relief; before he insisted Lyr have a turn, with Daegan to eagerly sit by Ronald’s side.

  Seated to one side, Cormac endured the heat quietly, not wishing to make trouble for any of his friends, and seeking to emulate the Elves in his quiet acceptance of the situation.

  Discussing amongst themselves for a time, it was Glarald who was to sit up and to take up a song, one that Cormac had never heard before. The youngest of the green-haired daughters of Arduinna soon joining him in the singing of the song: One which Lauma, Kyrenas, Fergus and Bardulf soon joined in the singing of also.

  “Féalandvil was a grand prince,

  To look upon his face none ever did wince,

  Born in the Golden-Garden,

  Where not a single heart was to ever harden,

  Dearly loved, and with a bride most fair,

  She had flaxen hair to contrast with the dog’s hair,

  Féavonoé was a dog from afar,

  One with a black mane decorated with more than one star,

  Féavonoé the celestial dog,

  Did traverse after them past more than a single bog,

  O how the gods did love him,

  And the minstrels sung of him,

  Just as Féalandvil did for his bride,

  The old canine did after him ride,

  Where he bloodied his mane most un-gray,

  None can say,

  All that they sing is that for Féalandvil

  To Nifleheimr he did descend.”

  It was a part of the song that was dedicated to the great wolf Féavonoé and Féalandvil, and which was one of the most ancestral tales passed down from generation to generation across the ages. It was also a song beloved by the Wolframs, as shown by Bardulf joining in the singing of the verses after the first sung by the Elves.

  Distracted for a time by this song, it encouraged Fergus to sing a song now of his own, one that none of them save for Bardulf, Daegan, Cormac and Ronald of those present had ever heard before.

  “Three clans have ruled throughout Gallia’s vast lands,

  Three families Gallia did give commands,

  Three families and only one could compare

  With the greatest King Aymon,

  éluan was his name, born to his father’s dismay,

  Raised by Roven’s bay,

  éluan was a golden boy,

  When he unhorsed his uncle the Lyonesse’s King,

  This the minstrels did gleefully sing,

  This tale in every village did ring,

  éluan Gold-Tresses did venture south,

  Doria’s isles he did travel about,

  Sea-Wyrms, Erde-Wyrms and by the sea he fought,

  Why? For love of you and I he did shout,

  Calypso goddess he did charm,

  And from many demons he kept her from harm,

  Upon his return he did father Marthe,

  The Poet-Princess did sing,

  Of he who was Golden-King,

  This she has sung, and still more is there to sing,

  éluan was his name, to his mother’s joy,

  He is now nary a boy,

  éluan many dragons did slay,

  Ere he was crowned Neustria’s King,

  This news through five hundred villages did ring.”

  Joining in the song part of the way through, the three who had heard the song in the past save for Cormac who felt as always too shy to sing with them. It was a song that Daegan in particular felt rather fond of, by virtue of her love of Gallia.

  “You sang it well,” Calandra complimented each of them, a pleased smile on her full-lips, “It is so very lovely, if I may ask who this ‘Golden King’ was?”

  “You have never heard of King éluan of Neustria?” The incredulity in the voice of Daegan, made the twin Elves flush bright scarlet, as red as her mane of hair.

  “I have never heard of any such monarch,” Calandra snapped at her, so that the resemblance between her and her sister, was so visible that she could have been mistaken then for Lauma.

  Lauma for herself had never looked so proud of her sister, for which she won herself a small snort of derision also from Connor. In return, the sisters sent him a scornful glance.

  Shaking his head at them a little, Bardulf remarked, “He is the ancestor of the present monarch of Gallia, and a legendary High-King.”

  “Gaston greatly loved éluan, and considered him the prime-most example of holiness and chivalry,” Lyr reminisced speaking of his great mentor, who had been assigned the task of teaching him chivalry. It was sir Gaston who had taught High-King Bradán himself, the values of chivalry almost two decades ago ere he had taken the throne, and rallied the people of ériu against the Warlock-King of Amadan.

  Almost as glorious in the eyes of those of ériu, as éluan was considered to be by the Gallians, Bradán was the hero-king who had rescued the Emerald-Island and a great many people of the island from doom.

  *****

  “If you wish to hear the tale of éluan, I shall recount it,” Bardulf replied quietly, nodding his head in the direction of Ronald and Fergus, “Though there are those who may in fact be able to sing his deeds far better than I ever could.” The two accepted his praise with slight nods of their heads, with the younger of the two smiling a little proudly. Continuing, the Wolfram soon showed how well he knew the traditions of Gallia.

  “éluan was the son of Aymon the Younger, son of Aymon the Clever. Also the son of Ana?s the Long, éluan at an early age came to be despised by his brute of a father, whereupon he was hunted by assassins. As Aymon the Younger favoured éluan’s younger brother, with the lad’s only protectors being the citizens of Roven, his mother and the monks of the lands of Norléans.

  In time reunited with his father when the lands of Norléans were overtaken by the great ‘Northern Invasion’. Taken into his grandfather’s home, éluan spent a short time in Hector, only for his mother to slip him out of the castle, westwards where she wed one of the Jarls, while her son fled to Lyonesse.

  His uncle was King of Lyonesse, Médard II and he took to éluan as a father does to a son, with the lad after his death becoming the new King, wherefore he invaded with the assistance of his vassals the lands of Neustria. It was in that hour that Mydan Red-Flame scorched most of the Twelve-Kingdoms that had preceded the Kingdom of Gallia. Mydan was only stopped after he was slain by éluan.

  After this, the Golden-King was to lead his many kingdoms through a troubled age, infested with plague, famines and wars. Thanks to him, some of the ancient aqueducts flowed once again with fresh water. Plague receded as did famine, and poetry and song returned to the Twelve Kingdoms.

  It was he who sought peace more often than war, all to please his subjects whom he held up as the most valuable of treasures, he had rather than the gold passed down to him by his ancestors.”

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