Not needing to be urged forward again, Daegan hurried as fast she could after that. No longer heeding neither pain, nor dignity (or lack thereof), she fell over herself to in her rush to escape the underground tunnel which had very nearly turned into her grave.

  Moving faster than she ever had before, the daughter of Corin the blacksmith was to turn two further times down there, below the earth as the tunnel curved twice more. First it curved to the right, then once again to the left before there was an explosion of light. How long she had wandered under the earth of the village remained a mystery to her. All that she knew was that her knees were bleeding, her hands had been cut to seeming pieces and her head throbbed.

  When she had reached the end of the tunnel, she was to find that there was a hole in the ceiling of it just above her, whereon she was pulled free by the wrists, by Lyr and Kyrenas. Both of whom, appeared relieved to see her, even if they were as ill-used as she was.

  Grateful to them and to the gods for having reached safety the young lass could nonetheless hardly see anything at all.

  So accustomed had she grown to the darkness that she could only blink, as the evening suns appeared to shine down upon her with all they had. As though they were little more than twin vindictive gods who wished to punish her, for having hidden from them for so long.

  It was with a start that she noticed that they now found themselves in the middle of a forest. Large grey and green trees dominated the forest, with all sorts of trees from pines, to alders, to sycamores, to ashes, to oaks all of which loomed high above all their heads.

  Majestic many of them were old trees that, had years over some of the forests of the island of Bretwealda. Though the Margvarrovs, liked to cut down local trees they had never quite managed with all their villages to cut down the whole of this ocean of trees.

  Stumbling away from the small hole which was near to the roots of a large-oak, and which appeared to almost be seeking to shield Andvari’s tunnel from the suns, and the rest of the world. Daegan was awed and almost wept, after such a long time underground.

  Connor once he had freed himself from the hole, let slip a snort of laughter that was so very cheerful that his little tail and ears wagged and twitched along with his chortles. It was Ronald who was to uncork the top from a tankard of his, ere he poured some of the contents and Bardulf, along with Kyrenas began working to bury the hole.

  “What is that? Ale?” Daegan asked startled by his wasting of some of the wine, upon dirt.

  “Sanctified mead, blessed by Arduinna and Calandra,” Glarald explained simply, only to elaborate when she continued to stare at him in confusion. “It is to discourage the wraith from following us through the tunnel.”

  It was a wise decision, Daegan decided with her mind now turning to the question of how the Tigrun had kept it secret so long, and how Calandra had received such training.

  In answer to her question, Ronald simply shrugged his shoulders indifferently, never one to be keen to answer the questions of others while Calandra frowned at him, and answered politely. “I have received instruction in such matters since I was a child, by my mother. Mother for her part is not simply our chieftain but our holy-woman, to make it clearer to thee.”

  Still unsure of what to make of this fact, it was Fergus who explained, “The lady Arduinna was not originally intended to succeed to the position of chieftain. According to Delauvaran, she succeeded only by virtue of a lack of alternative leaders that her people were willing to accept.”

  “We could not have chosen a finer leader,” Kyrenas added with some conviction, and a hearty nod of his head.

  “Where are we bound to next?” It was Connor who asked the next question, snorting his nose as he snuffled at the wind.

  The breeze was a warm one, coming south and circulating amongst the many green leaves that were so fresh and new, on the branches of the forest’s many trees.

  The grass beneath their feet as green as the trees, with Daegan glancing down then behind her, wherefore she saw in the distance across the fields which slanted downwards from where they currently stood, towards the Margvarrov village. It was an impressive sight that Cormac would have loved, in particular the distant blue line of the sea.

  Daegan for her part might well have liked the vision of the fields if she did not feel so exposed. Having not noticed over the course of their journey how the tunnel had begun to slant upwards as they crawled, so panicked were they, so that now they were all impressed by Andvari’s skill at tunnelling. What also impressed them was the rapidity with which he leapt forward, to answer the question of the Bairaz.

  “We must rescue your friend, ere we return to the distant western mountains to save my family,” Andvari answered at once, almost as passionate for the cause he spoke of, as Daegan herself felt.

  Unnerved by his words, Lauma appeared as though she may object to his words, mistrustful of the Sea-Dwarf. She was not alone in this regard, with Kyrenas visibly sceptical if for different reasons from her own.

  “I am not so certain it wise to abandon our quest, in favour of the rescue of Cormac. The quest must come first,” Kyrenas stated firmly, a hint of weary resignation in his voice, as he continued to maintain his reluctance for this duty of theirs.

  “How can you speak of abandoning Cormac?” Daegan growled infuriated by his refusal to help rescue Cormac.

  “We will not abandon Cormac,” Bardulf stated firmly, his eyes reassuring her as he intervened between the two of them just as the eldest of the elder-folk opened his mouth to contradict her furiously. “Nor will we abandon our quest, I feel certain that just as we will find him safe, we will find along the way some hint to where to find the Blood-Gem.”

  The decision made for them, they pushed past the entrance of the forest keen to gain its protection, with Lyr insisting that they also leave behind them the main road. Unpaved the principal road if it could be termed such, signified in their spirits danger, for they well knew that the Knightwraiths would surely follow it straight to them.

  *****

  The journey through the forest was one that was not as dangerous as those, in Caledonia. Or so it at first appeared to Daegan, who her resolve newly knitted back together was determined that if faced with the choice of the gem or Cormac, she would prefer to rescue the latter.

  This sentiment of hers was not shared by all those around her. Most notably, as she was disgusted to learn Kyrenas, Fergus and Connor felt that they should prioritise finding Marian. The last person to have held the Blood-Gem of Aganippe, with the most shocking part of the argument being Lauma’s own view that agreed with those of the three who preferred to chase the gem.

  “We must remember that there will likely be sacrifices made on this quest,” Connor argued near the end of the first day of travel through the dense forest filled to the brim it seemed with trees, mushrooms of dubious quality to their health and countless deer. This last one along with the large number of brown hares was to serve as their principal sustenance, as they cooked them over a small fire they swiftly extinguished.

  “The pig speaks true,” Lauma supported at once to the disapproval of her sister and Daegan, both of whom were stunned and disgusted at her words. “We must measure whether Cormac’s life has the same value as those of all those we seek to rescue. Surely the enemy will know that we may, prefer to rescue one another should the worst happen, and he capture them and later use this knowledge against us, if one of us should fall into his hands?”

  “Lauma! How can you speak so coldly of the life of another?” Calandra demanded stunned at the callousness of her sister.

  Daegan could hardly believe her ears either, for she had thought that like the rest of the female Elves she had met in the Longwoods that Lauma was her friend. Of a similar mind in regards to the greatness of their ancestry she had never imagined to hear the equally valour-loving woman speak so of Cormac. Especially since Lauma knew all too well the depths of Daegan’s love for him.

  Disgusted by this betrayal, she was prepared to give vent to the fury that swept over her, ere Bardulf intervened if with considerably more restraint than she would have shown. “And that is why you are not chieftain, nor were you chosen to lead this expedition. Prince Lyr and Wiglaf were, and they understand that to say that the needs of one group outweigh those of an individual is preposterous. To neglect a single life, under the pretence to save lives is itself how Gargath the Wicked, is said to have become wicked himself. It is by failing to place value on individual lives that the road to damnation begins.”

  The wisdom behind his words humbled them, with these very words serving to inspire Lyr to proclaim with a small smile full of warmth, and eyes shining with admiration. “How am I to disagree with such an argument? Truly Bardulf, you have the same sort of wisdom my uncle and father possess. If I were to live a thousand lives, I doubt I could achieve even a tenth of that wisdom in one of them.”

  “Nonsense,” Bardulf demurred at once flushing red beneath his fur, “I speak merely what is in my heart and that I have observed over the course of my life, with my mind and eyes.”

  “Spoken as truly as Meallán would have,” Glarald replied with equal fervour to that shown by the prince of the Emerald-Isle.

  “Hardly,” Connor grumped under his breath. Envy in his eyes at the praise that the Wolfram, had won from the likes of the prince he adored so much.

  Daegan strongly disagreed, and stood up with all the pride and dignity of a proper woman of her dignified blood, the finest in Gallia and Caledonia she thought, and declared. “I care not who will or will not wish to support this decision, but let he or she who wish to go against it become known as ‘oath-breaker’. For we have all come to this island as one, and shall leave it as one or not at all, I say.”

  She met the gaze of Lauma, who looked on her with a sternness that made it evident that it was her that those words were directed, was visibly upset. Her sentiments were ones that several within their group supported such as Lyr and Connor, though the latter was a little reluctant to do so. The twins were divided as Fergus agreed, where his brother found her words ridiculous.

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  “We will do what we must to save those we can. My only worry is that we strain ourselves too much, in the accomplishing of such deeds so that we snap as an over-wrought cord or thread might.” The sorcerer declared with some consternation, his brow furrowed at her as he poked at the embers of their small cooking fire with the bottom end of his staff.

  Daegan was prepared to argue with him, when Andvari asked all of a sudden, “You have noble hearts to speak so heartily of such mighty deeds, this I can see. I know more than any other that their likeness has not been seen hereon the Misty-Island for a very, very long time. But, I feel I would be remiss were I to not remind you all that none of you know the geography of this land, or where Cormac was taken.”

  “What do you mean to imply?” Fergus asked bristling a little at the tone used, and the choice in words on the part of the Dwarf.

  “Simply that I know where to find our friend, and where you must go for all you wish to do, and for this reason you must do as I say.” Andvari hissed out with equal venom to the Tigrun Pardiff, who impulsively opened his mouth to retort likely with some witty, yet sarcastic remark.

  He was of course stopped, by a blow to his side by his brother, who had elbowed him with the elder of the two possessing an angry countenance directed solely at him. Sorer in mood than physically, for he was a well-built warrior as well as a poet, and thus not softly put together as other poets might have been.

  Satisfied though certainly not happy, Ronald turned now to the Dwarf to offer him encouragement that his brother had not offered. “If such is the case, Master Andvari do tell us, where we may find Cormac that we may at once after he has been rescued continue with our quest.”

  Daegan nodded her head thrice, in excitement at his words, with the Dwarf visibly pleased to at last be receiving the respect he likely believed, he warranted. It was both because of that and his liking for the sorcerer that he answered plainly, “He is to the north-east of us. The lands in question lie just north of the Ring of Namavo and the Norllveal lands past the lands of the Jarl Sweyn of Vargrstein.”

  The lands he named were all a mystery to them. The only name that sounded remotely familiar to any of their ears was that of Namavo. The island nation of the Amazons, lay far to the south, past those of Hyspania, just off the western coast of Korax, which itself was part of the continent of South-Agenor.

  “Namavo? What do you mean by a ‘Ring of Namavo’?” Bardulf asked incredulously of the Dwarf, who stared at him in turn.

  “You truly have not heard of the ‘Ring of Namavo’?” He asked in return, with the Wolfram shaking his head in response. A sigh of exasperation followed and the Dwarf went on to clarify what he meant. “Between the lands of my people, the Margdvarrovs and the central plains of the island, which link ours to the north-western mountains of my peoples’ cousins if you could term them such, the mountain-dwelling Dwarves lies the Ring. The Ring of Namavo is a great plain, and forests claimed by the barbarous people of the Amazon Island.”

  “But how could they have come here? Amazons are not sea-savvy,” This time it was Lyr who spoke up, utterly flabbergasted to hear talk of the barbarous Namavians having reached islands so far from their native ones.

  It was a fair question. Or so it might have been regarded by any reasonable person.

  But reason had begun to fail the rightful chief of the village they had so recently escaped. He spat and sneered at the prince of ériu with utter contempt. “Bah, how can you know so little of history, yet claim to be a prince?”

  Connor rose to his feet with an angry expression that promised him, a sequel to the previous beating he had doled out to the wizened chief, who quailed in response. Andvari could hardly be blamed for being daunted by the gargantuan Bairaz, who might well have carried out his threat, were it not for his prince tugging on his wrist and telling him to seat himself once more.

  Reluctantly doing as he was bid, the pig-man was to scowl though at the diminutive humanoid figure seated across from where he sat on the other side of the dead-fire.

  Triumphant, Andvari looked prepared to lord over the other man, his ‘victory’, when he was asked by Daegan, “How did these Amazons come to dominate some of the lands hereon the Misty-Island?”

  Her question was one that surprised the Dwarf, who thought about it very visibly ere he shrugged, “They arrived here centuries ago, during the Second Wars of Darkness.” When he saw that this answer had hardly served to mollify them, he let slip a long sigh of frustration. “The Dark Elves did not come here for conquest, they were not prepared for a full war with us, as they were in the lands of your ancestors.

  They sent but a small detachment here accompanied by many, many mercenaries with the invasion severely weakening the kingdoms that ruled here. Namely those of Hraukrheier, my kindred under the mountains and those of the Centaur people of the plains and that of the Elves along the north-eastern mountains that stretch south-westwards cutting across some of the central wetlands as we call them of this island. These were the largest of the kingdoms of that time, and they were all weakened by those wars.”

  “You speak as though, you were alive and bore witness to those terrible wars,” Ronald said with a slow blink of his eyes, never tearing his eyes that in the growing dark of night became luminous, as a cat’s might.

  Shifting from side to side, uncomfortably as the rest of them gaped at him in surprise, save for the Elves and Bardulf, he answered as he scratched at his beard. The grief in his voice was writ across his face when he answered, “It was a dark time, I was but a wee lad and one who buried all of his brothers, father, grandfather, cousins save one, and all of my uncles. I also buried sisters, good-sisters and nieces to the depredations of those monsters if you must know.” It was now that he shuddered, “I care not to speak of those times.”

  “Then do not speak of them,” Fergus replied with unusual sensitivity.

  Disappointed, as she would have liked to have heard a little of those tales, in spite of the horror that they had already inspired in her. Daegan nodded her head if reluctantly so, urging the Dwarf to carry on with his tale to which he glanced up in her direction.

  It was some time before he next spoke, troubled by his dark memories of some of the worst times of his life, yet when he spoke it was in a whisper. “They came after the wars had ended for us here, long before they ended upon the Continent or Bretwealda.

  We Margdvarrovs had decided to lend our own assistance, carrying food, arms forged by our cousins under the mountains and even some Centaur warriors overseas to aid those in need. We even took refugees to safety, with such the gratitude of those people we aided that we became beloved by all good people of North-Agenor… but hearing of our growing wealth, there was an Amazon tribeswoman who gathered together thousands upon thousands of her people in Namavo.

  She did not have the ships, however she knew that the Dark Elves certainly did and contracted their ships. She invaded our shores with the aid of some of the Bretwealda kingdoms who betrayed us and sent some of their own warriors alongside her, to storm our beaches.”

  “What was her name?” Daegan queried in a hushed voice, enraptured by his tale and a little frightened by the tale of this wicked Amazon chieftain.

  “She was the Amazon chieftain known as Derimacheia,” Andvari said miserably, shivering a little. “She was a madwoman who invaded our lands, slaughtered the Centaurs, destroying their tribal kingdom pushing those people westwards. Tore apart a great many of the Elves, and might well have conquered the island were it not for the arrival of the Norsemen who took the whole of the east of the island.

  We forged a swift alliance with them, only to be enslaved for a time ere we won back our freedom and began our alliance anew. In response Derimacheia invited year-by-year alongside her sister Anameia to bring back hundreds of Amazons. They would continue to do this until the battle of the Oráiste River.”

  “I know the battle, there is a song that I once heard a drunk merchant sing regarding it,” Fergus said at once with a great deal of eagerness.

  Andvari grimaced as though he were not particularly keen about the song; he might have objected was it not for Bardulf encouraging the Tigrun to sing. With a sigh the hoarse-voiced Dwarf joined his own voice to that of the Pardiff. The taller of the two familiar with the song reddened after one single false start that ended, in him halting his would-be song.

  “I am not entirely certain how the whole of the song goes, since it has been quite some time.” Fergus admitted reluctantly.

  “I thought you were meant to remember all songs you heard,” Daegan accused with a toss of some of her scarlet hair.

  Smiling at her words Glarald and Calandra chuckled a little while the Tigrun glowered back at her, “This was long ago, when I was almost four years of age though if you will allow me but a moment, I shall attempt to recall it enough to sing the tale.”

  This he did, though he necessitated some prompting from Andvari who remembered it flawlessly. At first they sung haltingly, but towards the end of several minutes it was Fergus who sang all the better than the Dwarf, who had a shoddy singing voice.

  “Sing o Muse to me of the folly of Derimacheia,

  She who ignored the wise-counsel of Anameia

  Of the She-Pirate who thought to conquer Antilia,

  Her mane was black as the night,

  Her temper red as the flames of Surtr’s infernal might,

  Her wickedness was a true blight,

  Sing O Muse to me, of how she fought in the green plains,

  Of how her sister fought as only could a dame,

  Ere her capture by he of the red-mane,

  Anameia a love as no other did come to in those plains,

  This while the whole of her sister were throttled by pains,

  Centaur and Northman did they challenge and come to shame,

  Sing O Muse to me, of how Derimacheia’s cousin did flee,

  To the lands of the north-city did she flee,

  Her shield decorated with the image of Namaia

  whose omens she did not see,

  Derimacheia far from the sea and surrounded did fall,

  Quite where this was none can recall,

  Sing O Muse to me, of how Derimacheia still suffers,

  In these fields where she dwelleth none can utter,

  For in these plains the dead still shudder,

  And the as the living Derimacheia and all others,

  By decree of Orcus whose lands they did desecrate they still suffer.”

  His gaze clouded and downturned so that few of them could properly look into his eyes, to see what it was that he was thinking. But his hunched figure told a far greater tale of his misery, than any downcast eyes or sorrowful song of the death of kings and queens.

  Full of pity for the Sea-Dwarf, Daegan eyed him from the corner of her eyes unsure of what to say to him.

  It was Lauma who muttered, “What a horrible war.”

  “Aye it was,” Andvari agreed at once, weary he had never looked smaller than he did at that moment. “Derimacheia was slain, and her sister was captured by the Jarl Eindriei with the rest of the Amazons pushing back the Northmen shortly thereafter, near the southern branch of the Oráiste River.

  Unable to decide upon a leader, they splintered into a multitude of tribes while those from across the Glacial Sea began to wage war amongst themselves, also. Some of the lesser Jarls were to make common cause with the Amazonian chieftains, who intermarried and fought against one another, until the arrival of those from Norléans.”

  *****

  There was a disquieted silence that overtook the small encampment. Tired as the suns had long since descended, leaving the forest shadowed with Bardulf arranging them to watch in pairs. The first two to keep watch were himself and Andvari, at the Dwarf’s insistence. They were to be followed by Connor and Lyr, then Lauma and Kyrenas.

  It was as she prepared to sleep next to Calandra, who appeared utterly grateful for the chance to at last rest, that she noticed, Glarald looking as though he were prepared to stay awake to watch the stars.

  His fascination with astronomy one that Daegan had observed in days past, during their time in the pit-prison of the Margdvarrovs, one that his father and cousins shared. It was one that she knew Inga had shared, so that she suddenly missed her dearest friend.

  Swallowing her grief and desire for vengeance, she asked of Andvari, “What became of Anameia, the younger sister of the war-chief Derimacheia? Did she perish shortly after the battle?”

  Andvari looked at her for a long time, his grave face softened ever so slightly. “She wed the Jarl Eindriei, and birthed him many sons and daughters. The line of Vargrsteinn is descended from her. When I saw her twenty years after her capture, which was the third time I had the chance to meet her, she was contented- joyous even and had enjoyed a happy life with her husband.”

  This appeared strange to Daegan, who asked of him, “But she was captured in war, and reduced to a mere wife!”

  “Not reduced, she saw it as an elevation of sorts,” Andvari stated shrugging his shoulders, “I shan’t say I understood her, she was strange in that way all humans are. She adored her husband, her children and was proud to have ceased to be a warrior.”

  “I could never do such a thing,” Daegan boasted proudly, adding with some vanity, “The women in my family according to father, outside of my mother were all warriors or had participated in sieges and achieved some glory in some fashion.”

  The Dwarf never answered, he appeared to be pondering her words.

  It was Connor who answered from one side of the camp, his voice somehow drowsy and amused all at once.”Aye, and how many of them perished in their own beds or happy? I imagine, only your mother ever tasted the sort of happiness most men and women, can only dream of…”

  Daegan wished the pig had held his tongue. Because of him, she could only question, and dread the answer to that query and all that it signified. For that, she despised him. It was entirely his fault that she stayed up so long into the night, pondering her mother, and the lady Anameia’s fate.

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