The journey back to Mt-Sorg passed as in a dream. One in which, Gwilherm hardly remembered the days of journey beyond the sight of a ravaged landscape one that it was evident Balthrorth had burnt and destroyed leaving nary a trace of the countryside that they had previously enjoyed traveling through, in the direction of Falsveal a mere month and a half prior. Horrified by the blackened husks that were the animals that had grazed and the people who once managed them, with the landscape so utterly blackened and still in some places in flames, regardless of how it had been days since Balthrorth had traversed through the area.

  Studying this landscape with sad eyes, Gwilherm could hardly suppress the tears that came to his eyes, as he had never seen such devastated sights in all his years. Not even in the wars waged by his King, had there been such waste and destruction, with the harpist finding it at places difficult to breath, so great was the smoke cast by the fires that decorated the land of Estria.

  “How could he do such a thing?” He queried rhetorically one day, just as they left what Eahlstan had come to dub the ‘Ashen-lands’.

  “Likely it matters not to him,” the enchanter replied sadly, with a frown one that hardly removed itself from his grimacing face for a number of hours.

  The great mountain arose in the north, at first in the distance. The closer he neared it, the more full of dread Gwilherm became filled with. A part of him wished for naught more than to turn his steed about, and to flee, however just as with the bitterness and anger he had felt against the world all around him he swallowed those sentiments.

  Shaking his head he forced himself to banish thoughts of fear with a weary sigh, much as he might wish for comfort and ease, those things were long-since behind him. As they crossed into the forest near the base of Mt-Sorg, Gwilherm felt his spirit dip further; this was worsened by the image of Morcar leaping forth to challenge Balthrorth. A memory that had come time and again into his line of vision oft on the journey there, far more so at night than during the day, yet it did so once more as they passed the first of the trees.

  “I think, I would- do you think about-” He stuttered unsure of what to say to his friend who gazed at him with every bit of the uncertainty and fear that he doubtlessly felt himself.

  “Do not think about him,” Eahlstan advised gently with a shudder, “Or his past misdeeds.”

  It was thence that he could not cease to think of what he had seen, and fear returned not only in full, but with ever more terror than before. He wished he could have said so to the old man, who had for his own part already preferred to move his attention to the forest before them with a shiver of his own. Trailing on ahead of them, Remus appeared to be the most pleased to leave the Ashen-lands behind them, having whimpered all the way through, his tail between his legs the whole time. Seeing his tail up in the air again, was the finest sight Gwilherm had beheld in days, and was something that gave him hope. A rare and highly valued sight, after days spent seeing naught but the ashen remains of people, animals and the wilderness of Estria.

  *****

  The mountain when they reached it was just as they had left it, with nary a fire smoking about or within it. Or so it appeared at first glance, as Eahlstan complained bitterly of how, “It looms ever more menacingly than ever before lad, I do not fancy the mean task before us!”

  “Yes, the dragon frightens me also,” Gwilherm complained nervously as he dismounted form his war-steed before moving to release it with Eahlstan stopping him.

  “No, do not release it, it shall not be long before we have need of it once more, and I do not fear the dragon exactly but rather what will become of this place after his death.” Eahlstan explained, only to elaborate once he saw the questioning confused glance of the other man, he grimaced. “Ah yes, you have never heard of how men comported themselves after Mydan the ‘Inflammateur’ died. I need not say more than; men behaved as beasts, and drove themselves mad with greed and lust for the gold of the hoard, whilst the most knowledgeable of kings and nobles lusted for the dragon’s corpse itself as it is a far greater treasure than any mere gold.”

  “How so?” Gwilherm asked, not understanding how the corpse of such a beast could be more valuable than the actual hoard.

  “Erde-Wyrms and wyverns, and even hydras do not have the unbreakable scales of a true dragon, you shall see, you shall see the worst cons of men…” Eahlstan warned melancholically as he glanced up at the heavens. “Mayhap dinner and rest, I would prefer to tackle the dragon with a full belly and a good rest, what say you?”

  Gwilherm agreed and felt grateful that they had brought so many provisions with them thanks to Beorhtsige’s far-sightedness. They had had enough rations which included hard-bread, and several fruits such as apples and bananas with the two forced to hunt for venison on route for the mountain.

  This evening they had rationed some deer-meat they had rationed from their first entry into the forest, with the two of them about ready to rest for the evening when the younger of the two bolted back up into a seated position. The sound of hooves striking the ground had arrived at his ears as though they came from a great distance only to grow ever louder. Startled, he glanced to Eahlstan who had already lain down to rest beneath a tree, the skies having long since darkened so that the stars were out and about in all their beauty.

  Always they amazed Gwilherm, who loved to bear witness to the sight of Cormac slaying the Fratriarch Pestilayus and his setting sail across the Glacial Sea. ?thelred and his slaying of the terrible giant-wyvern Blaurung, could be also be discerned in the heavens above, with this vision of the stars always serving to reassure Gwilherm. They were his favourite sights, as they reminded him of the permanence of his homeland, and that the world would still be there when he awoke.

  But those hooves striking the ground, they worried him. Having begun about to rest, he regained his feet in an instant, rousing Eahlstan who blinked up at him in confusion, “What is it?”

  “I hear hooves- someone is galloping towards us,” He explained as he waited a not that he needed to wait very long, as the galloping man came to a stop, with Gwilherm’s small fire. When he pounced just as the pony trotted to a stop near the fire, he had to stop himself just as the startled animal reared back near throwing off its diminutive rider.

  “Woah! What are you doing fool!?” Vladin shrieked in a fright, bewildered by the leap of his friend from behind the small fire and onto the small ‘road’ before him, knife in hand. “And what were you scheming to do with that there knife, Gwilherm?”

  “Erm, well you see I knew not who you are,” Gwilherm replied uncertainly only to swallow and help his friend regain control of his steed. “What are you doing here, Vladin?”

  “I have come to warn you to extinguish your flames, as there are going to be huscarls en route to slay you,” He revealed to the shock of the young man who froze, having not foreseen this possibility. “Millarth and Wigstan stormed the temple of Orcus with the latter having desired to claim Elena for himself-”

  “NO!” Gwilehrm shouted ready to leap upon his horse to race back the way he had come, were it not for Eahlstan.

  “Stop Gwilherm! Do not hurry back,” He commanded shrilly.

  “But Elena is in danger, and I swore to protect her!” The brother of Eadwin objected at once, unable to understand why his friend would stop him from returning to Falsveal.

  “I am aware, however you swore to protect all of Estria and that oath must take precedence.” Eahlstan reminded him sharply.

  “But-”

  “Once an oath is taken, it must never be forsaken my lad, you did so once and was despised by all around you, would you endure this a second time? And what would Elena say if she knew, of how you broke your oath?” Eahlstan reminded him passionately, gazing at him from the other side of the fire, stroking with one hand his wooden staff. The one shaped at its peak like a wyvern grasping in its mouth a small emerald sphere, the oak-wood smooth and beautiful.

  His words were almost enough to dissuade Gwilherm from departing then, his hands already upon the reins that tied his steed to the ash-tree opposite the ash that his teacher had rested his own back upon. Observing this uncertainty in him, Vladin went on with a small tremulous smile, as he added, “It is not only Elena that they have taken to sacrifice to Balthrorth, but Mildburg, Bada, Ethel and ?lffl?d. This in spite of how Wigstan desired Elena and ?lffl?d, however Millarth is determined to sacrifice them all.”

  “But why come to slay us?” Gwilherm questioned disgusted by the actions of the other man, with the Dwarf shrugging his shoulders.

  “Doubtlessly he fears us angering the dragon more than we already have,” Vladin guessed.

  “Or mayhap, he fears our victory far more, as that will shatter his authority, since the Archdruid will return to resume his post.” Eahlstan suggested instead, having far more wisdom in such matters with the Dwarf shrugging once more, only for the enchanter to cough uncertainly. “How far behind you are they?”

  “Not far.”

  “Then we must act soon, but what should we do?” Eahlstan queried anxiously.

  “We must hide, and wait until they arrive then we will ambush them, just after they enter the forest-”

  “And if one of us is wounded, they outnumber us and I shan’t fight with them, no we must go to confront the dragon before they have arrived.” The enchanter interrupted, only to add when he saw the other man grimace, “There will be time enough to decide things in the morn’.”

  “Yes,” Vladin supported as he stepped over to the side of the elder to rest near the fire.

  Gwilherm could have cursed but restrained himself, irritated by their refusal to listen to him on military matters, when it was he who was the warrior and not they. As he settled down back where he had been after tying the pony to an oak-tree, he found that sleep came readily to him. Yet as he fell into a deep rest, he thought he saw smoke in the distance, his last thought being to wonder how it could possibly be coming from the north, if Millarth was to the south of them.

  *****

  The next day the source of the fire became apparent, when they neared the base of the mountain, as seated there by a small fire, with animal bones, and with a hirsute beard growing in and his hair slightly longer, sat Roparzh. Dressed in his armour with his swords and spear at his side, he bore the appearance of a man almost as haunted as Morcar had been. The first to hurry over to him, was quite naturally Remus, whom the knight received with visible relief and warmth if with slight hesitance. There was something in the manner with which he petted the dog who barely noticed his uncertainty, in his own excitement that left Gwilherm even more confused.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Having not seen the knight in a month, it was a shock to discover the warrior there, eyes on the fire he hardly raised them as Gwilherm glanced to his friends both of whom shrugged in response. The first to speak though was Vladin who queried in a harsh voice, “Just what are you doing here? Thought you had taken fright, as the coward you are Roparzh.”

  Where once he might have flown into a rage or mocked the Dwarf back, Roparzh hardly said anything; he now preferred to chew on his cooked venison, so that it was up to Eahlstan to question him also. “Have you come to aid us in the battle against the dragon?”

  “Oui,” Roparzh confirmed if reluctantly, his eyes still lowered for a moment longer, before he raised them if hesitantly to meet those of Gwilherm. “You know, my father was disgraced also… not for being a coward, and I- j’ai, I fought my whole life to clear his bad name.”

  Gwilherm could not understand why he spoke then of such a thing, what did the other man’s father have to do with his presence here. “That is no answer.”

  “When he wed my mother back in the reign of Aymon the Rusé or ‘clever’ in your crude tongue, he was disgraced. For he had crossed the sea as a guard for an embassy, and wed a peasant girl, not only this but he preferred to give me a Brittian name, ‘Roparzh’.” Roparzh continued eyes on the flames, shifting uncomfortably on the log he was seated upon. “When he died he said, ‘heart matters more than honour’. But when he perished, all sneered at him not only in Neustrie but here in Brittia. I was raised over there, but came on éluan’s orders yet never belonged in either place. The thought of disgracing his name further just- I shan’t retreat…”

  When he had finished speaking his eyes brimming with tears, Roparzh covered his eyes with his left hand, and shook for a time. There was a time Gwilherm might well have wished to see such a sight; the knight brought low for his sneering comments. But at that moment, all he could think was how similar they were.

  Swallowing he struggled for words, before he said rather weakly, “And where is Galen?”

  Sniffling a little, Roparzh looked at him questioningly, “What of him? I thought he was still with you, I have not seen him since I fled.”

  The laugh that tore itself from his lips startled all those around him, until he felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. Amused by this reaction, Roparzh raised an eyebrow at him as his lips quirked upwards where confusion decorated the faces of the other two.

  “It would appear that the man, who most shamed me for cowardice, has himself turned coward?” Gwilherm sniggered for quite some time, until Eahlstan grumbling reminded him of the presence of the dragon, where Vladin hooted and Roparzh merely smiled.

  “I would ask your forgiveness Gwilherm, while I have never hated you, I did shame you for a fear more natural. It was not until I stood before the mountain that I was myself shamed in the same way as you in Cymru.” Roparzh said at last after quite some time had passed.

  Gwilherm was not for the first time at a loss for words, he searched for them only to conclude that few of them were truly necessary and that it was mayhap best to simply state things as they were. “It is past. Now Balthrorth awaits us.”

  This appeared to be enough, with the knight nodding his head though he did not rise to his feet immediately preferring to kneel before the fire, with his sword soon drawn from its hilt. This he did after shoving away the over-affectionate Remus away from him four times, as the dog licked at his face. Gwilherm knew not what he intended, however it was clear once Roparzh had stabbed the tip of the blade into the ground before the flames, and spread his hands to either side of him.

  “Oh, we have no time for prayers at such a time!” Vladin complained bitterly, only to add when the dog made his way over to him, shoving him away from himself now, drawing a huff of displeasure from Remus. “Oh do leave me alone you mangy mutt, I have no wish to humour you at present!”

  “There must always be time, for ‘tis only by the grace of Ziu and Marianne- er Brigantia that we shall prevail Dwarf,” Roparzh reprimanded harshly, as he began to murmur beneath his breath a prayer to the gods.

  Marianne was simply the name of Brigantia in the Neustrian tongue, whereas Ziu was as all knew the war-god, flames being sacred to him (due to his flaming sword). It was mandated before any great battles that armies ought to pray to the two, as one was the god of war and heroes, the other the goddess of protection and of good. Therefore to pray to them was right; however there had never been a time before a battle wherefore Gwilherm had ever had recourse to such an act. With but a few of those battles having ended in defeat due in no small part, to the brilliance of ?thelwulf who was a superb general, who had only lost a handful of battles.

  Gwilherm would have preferred to move on, however he found that when he shared a glance with Eahlstan, the enchanter appeared rather taken with the idea. Reluctantly, he joined the other two who spread their hands in a gesture of receiving the proper gesture for prayer according to the teachings of the Canticle, and prayed. None of them said a word for several moments, as Vladin joined them if reluctantly with a gusty sigh of exasperation.

  From deep within all of them, came the very greatest of wishes imaginable as they each prayed for victory that day. Vladin prayed more to live long enough to enjoy another meal, a proper one in all actuality. Where Gwilherm prayed to see Elena once more and most peculiarly to sing one last song, mayhap to not only his sister but the daughter of Morcar, he had been working before his departure upon this quest on a song dedicated to Cormac. And at that moment, he suddenly had the strongest desire to sing it, before he died.

  A small smile came to his lips then, at the thought of how he had once reviled and bewailed at his lot in life, at having to sing to earn his living when he was a noble of the highest birth. However at that moment, he found that he missed singing before a small crowd of people, bringing hope and smiles to them.

  “I feel ready now, shall we proceed?” Gwilherm asked as he opened his eyes, after one last prayer for the good-health and happiness of the lady Elena despite his not knowing quite why she should matter so much to him.

  They agreed and regained their feet, just as Roparzh stiffened. Having the finest ears of all of them, the half-Neustrian hissed out a breath just as he sheathed his sword after cleaning the tip, with his eyes darkening as they focused upon some point just behind Gwilherm. For his own part, he leapt several feet into the air when he heard the sarcastic voice of cruel Millarth.

  “Prayers was it? How very pious of you lot, especially after your failure to save my daughter the previous time you were here. Or mayhap ye were praying for yourselves and intended to flee from this place.” Millarth said coldly standing apart from them with a cold grin upon his thin lips, surrounded by a number of tall huscarls, all of whom were muscled, and heavily armed.

  Each man held a different one of Morcar’s women, all of whom were dressed still in the black of mourning, though the dresses had come to be decorated with tears here and there and the dirt and soot of the road and Ashen-lands. The sight of the bruise Elena wore on her left cheek, and the anxious look the ordinarily resolute Mildburg wore, were almost enough to enrage Gwilherm into action.

  “If a single hair of any of theirs is harmed there will not be a god or dragon alive capable of saving you from my wrath, Millarth!” Gwilherm threatened full of righteous fury such that the ladies looked to him with hope (Bada most of all).

  One of the warriors, he who was just behind the young child Bada moved to unsheathe his dagger in a manner that made clear he intended to do harm to the child, were the lord of Réalwaldr to move against him. This caused such fright in ?lffl?d, who let loose a small shriek of terror that the heart of even the foulest of demons might well have broken in that instant.

  Only monsters and desperate men were capable of such a foul misdeed, with Bada brave though she was, a girl clung to her mother all the more tightly. This in spite of the fact that this would avail them nothing, save her injury or death before that of her precious eldest daughter, with Elena for her part having never looked more akin to her near-royal father than at that moment. So wild did she appear at that moment, so full of the same desperate rage that all good men herewith present could not help but to admire her for her courage, as she not only defied the terrible deacon but spat upon him from where she was held with an arm about her throat and a dagger pressed against her back. “Serpent! Not even the foul Queen of Nifleheimr would lower herself, as you have foul false-cleric! You will not lay hands again upon my sister, or even my stepmother regardless how low I hold her, she is still the widow of Falsveal and you ought to treat her with full respect!”

  Something in her words caught the anger of Millarth and held it fast, as he glowered furiously at her with such vindictive spite in his eyes that were his gaze a blade she would have already been cut to pieces. “And what of my daughter? The one none of ye strove to save?”

  “Gwilherm tried!” Elena snarled back at him, momentarily catching his attention, “But she was every bit as mad as you, not that her loss has weighed upon your soul for even a heartbeat!”

  For a long moment, one that might well have seen new stars born and many more perish so long was it that none doubted that Millarth, wished more than anything in the world than to strike Elena where she stood. Gwilherm for all his vulnerability about his failure to save mad Delia, the daughter of Millarth, knew that the lovely daughter of Morcar was correct. It did not wipe away his failure, yet the knowledge was a comfort.

  “Pl-please I j-just want to go home,” Pleaded Ethel utterly terrified, “B-but y-you should let us g-go, since Gwilherm is here to slay Balthrorth.”

  Her faith and refusal to abandon her friends, and most especially Bada whom she glanced to moved each one of them with Vladin giving the girl an admiring look. It was the sort one has for one who demonstrates utter courage, of the kind rarely exhibited by any. Fearful as she was, she refused to abandon a child or to put herself ahead of the infant, which demonstrated the true character of the young girl.

  The two sides could no more move to counter one another, as they stood there frozen in place, before one side had to move or the other with Gwilherm being the one who attempted to compromise. “Release them, wherefore we shall head up the mountain to combat with Balthrorth to throw him down.”

  “What man can defeat such a beast? Only éluan the Golden could hope to triumph against him, or mayhap an Aemiliemagne,Valdkerian the Steel or Kharolius the Indomitable and you have none of their greatness in you.” Millarth taunted him, with Gwilherm familiar with the first two references as all knew of the King éluan the cousin of Aymon and Léon, and of their ancestor Aymon the Great or Aemiliemagne. As to the last two, they were two of the mightiest of Elves to have ever lived, ere in ages long past with but Eahlstan having heard of them as all who know magic have read of these great heroes. Heroes who had sacrificed all that they had to stem the tide of darkness from this world.

  To hold other mortal men to their noble standing was one of the greatest injustices one could have inflicted upon he of lesser birth, and accomplishments. As not all men were half as great as those men, who had had it not only thrust upon them, but were born and capable of achieving such greatness that even gods gazed upon them with awe.

  Ere Gwilherm might well have continued to challenge them, had Vladin not stepped forth to negotiate with the deacon, “We shall advance whither where the dragon rests, and for each one of us who advances, ye will release one of the fair maids ye hold prisoner. What say you, o deacon?”

  Other men, far more just and fair-minded ones might well have nodded at once, to so fair a bargain, however the minions of the deacon hesitated only to shake their heads with scowls upon their faces. They were the most brutal and cowardly of bullies to have ever been born upon the Lordly-Isle, with these men hardly comparable to the cruelty of Millarth.

  A man who even when he had cowed his foes into doing just what he wished of them, could not resist demanding more, “And why should I wish to abide by such a condition? Which of the sacrifices would you have me release first?”

  This time it was Elena who spoke up, “The child of course you evil beast of a man!”

  The menacing glare he threw towards her, might well have cowed a lesser lady but not one half so courageous, so elegant as she. Full of awe towards the swarthy lady of Falsveal, all the men of quality present herewith bowed their eyes and heads to her valour, as Gwilherm volunteered without a second thought. Moved by her courage he sought now to honour it, with his own feat of valour and thus spoke the fateful words, “I shall move ahead first, thence you are to release Bada, and then it shall be wise Eahlstan, followed by Ethel.”

  “Then?” Queried the evil old man, with it being Roparzh who spoke up at last, though he knew the evil deacon the least well, he could see that the ladies were all fair and good and did not deserve to suffer their wickedness.

  “I shall depart and the fair lady in that there brute to your right and the mother of the child shall be release forthwith.” He commanded standing tall, with his stained tabard and cloak flapping in the wind both bore the mighty black-falcon of the kin of the dynasty of Neustria. As he was their knight after-all, though he was half from Brittia, and so knightly and majestic did he appear then that Gwilherm took heart. It was not simply he who gained heart, as Eahlstan smiled and cheered, and Mildburg stared with open admiration and awe for this knight, her eyes shining with such light that none doubted the love that was to grow there one day for the knight.

  “Very well, but I shall not release Bada until Gwilherm disappears from sight!” Millarth stipulated. Bada lost as to what she ought to do, was encouraged forward by her mother, as by Eahlstan so that she raced thither to stand by the old enchanter who clasped hands with her, ruffled her hair as her father once had, and complimented her for being a brave girl.

  Ordinarily this might well have ended with a treat being given to her, such as a cinnamon dipped bit of bread, or a bit of ginger-bread snap or even some fruit. However as they had naught to offer her but encouraging words and freedom, those had to do, as Gwilherm was thusly made to scale the mountain because of this ‘good-faith’ gesture that was anything but.

  His eyes fastened upon those of Elena who stared, after him her heart in her eyes and the lack of blessings looming over his heart so that it was heavy, as never before. He prayed that this was not to be the last he saw of her, as he scaled the mountain for what was to be the last time at that time.

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