[Hereford Eye]

The heat from the forge fills the cavern niggling with the native moisture to produce heaviness in the air as if breathing is meant to be a conditioning exercise for the lungs. Perspiration runs freely on faces and bodies of the five adding a physical discomfort to already stressed nervous systems.
The youngest is not the most curious of the band but her curiosity jumps in first. “Okay,” she says, “we know who’s doing what to who, so how does it work?” Directed at Lucas, her question centers attention of the group on the smith who answers quickly.
“There’s little mystery to the implementation. The spirit grabs the blade; the carrier grabs the hilt. I ask the appropriate questions. When the answers are made, the blades take over.”
“Have you done this before?” Anna asks, the tone of her question implying Lucas has not. You know well I have not, Anna” Lucas concedes. “Still, the lore of Arian is clear on this matter.”
“Yes, it is clear” Anna agrees.
“That’s it then?” Harsh continues pressing. “That’s all, then let’s get to it.” Before she can take possession of one of the blades, Tuli’s grip stays her hand. “One more question, please,” he says to Harsh, then releases her hand. “Lucas, how do we tell which end is which? It’s all of one piece at the moment.”
Before Lucas can answer, Harsh provides her response: “That’s easy, Tuli.” To demonstrate she grabs one end of the smaller blade lifting the metal towards the Koldred. Instinctively, the Koldred reaches out to the metal to keep it from his face. Anna and Lucas move to assist but, as the Koldred’s hand grips the opposite end of Harsh's grip on the metal, things begin to happen.
The metal is instantly alive, power pulsing from one end to the other. Grasp is permanent, neither dwarf nor Koldred can release the metal. Neither is so inclined but if they were, they could not. Anna and Tari attempt to break the bond but cannot. Lucas watches in dazed astonishment. “I didn’t ask the questions,” he says, as confounded by the obviousness of his words as by the scene they deny.
Silence descends on the band as each watches the mystery unfolding, each trying to understand what is happening. A bonding! Yes, of course. Naming the event does little to aid understanding. There is no new sight, no new sound, and no new odor to announce the nature of the bonding. There is just a teenage girl staring intently into a mature Koldred’s eyes while the Arian metal pulses from hand to hand. The Koldred peers equally intent into the young dwarf’s eyes watching the bond build.
A smirk appear on Harsh’s lips and a strangled “oh, no, not that” fights its way past Tuli’s lips. In less than a heartbeat, the sentiments reverse, Harsh screaming indignation as Tuli eyes reflect total disbelief. Back and forth, emotions are traded, almost in time with Arian pulsing except the human reactions are not as quick as the metal’s beating.
A time comes when the pulsing slows, the reactions cease, and the three are once again still. The metal fades to nothingness or a color so close to nothingness as to make the argument moot. From this nothingness, color emerges from under Tuli’s grasp, a terrible gold, an assault on all observers’ eyes. At Harsh’s end, her hand spasms, pricking itself on unformed metal spikes, blood flowing from hand to blade, mixing with the nothingness to achieve a muted white that begins to infuse the sword, spreading towards the gold creeping up from Tuli’s end.
White and gold meet as paint meets in the artist’s cup. The blade seems to stir and mix the colors to produce something new, a color not seen before, a color only achieved by Arian metal worked in just this fashion. Silver one will say, crystal another will swear, quicksilver from still another. Whatever the shade, it fills the nascent blade running quickly from the mixing point to both ends.
When the blade is fully colored, it releases Harsh’s body. Giving life to the blade takes everything that Harsh has to give; there is nothing left over to animate her body. They are severed, Harsh and her body, and will not be rejoined.
Tuli can release the blade but is reluctant to do so. “I am hers,” he says. “I cannot be without her. Yes, I know Lucas must finish the process.” He faces Lucas to say: “Make it a blade worthy of Harsh, but know that I will resent every second I cannot hold the blade.
To work, Master Smith, and quickly. Do not tarry. She is young and needs my company. She is brave but should not be alone.”
It could be humorous but none take it so. Lucas receives the blade and returns to the forge.
Tari looks to Anna. “Before we start, lady, let us be certain which end is which. I cannot envision this small person lugging that monstrous blade around the High Peak. If I did, what could I accomplish with it? No, lady, you must bear and I must be spirit.”

[Holbrook]

The worms slithered their way up the mountain, through the high valley, the tree line and into the snow. George and his forces followed. The followers of Malliss followed.

Both forces attack the worms, but keep to themselves. Two armies that were growing. For as they had breasted the High valley, men with green tinged skin and flowing robes of yellow silk had come on the tail of the worms, inching there way from the east. These had joined George's forces. As the tree line had been reached trolls, thick of limb had come hammering at the worms from the west. They tagged on to the forces of Malliss.

So it went on, each mile now more came. Two large armies were forming, each it seemed with the same purpose.

The High Peak itself, the rock, ice and snow too had a point of view in the coming events. One that showed itself in patches. For in places the snow was gone, the ground warm to the touch. Here winter had been banished as if some great furnace was under the rock, blasting it clear.

When the forces of Malliss came across such a place, they cheered, great was their excitment. Voices were raised in praise to the one they served.

But for George and his men such places sickened the stomach, they felt un-natural as "evil" in their eyes as the worms that slithered before them.

~~~~~

The Earl orders his daughter's remains carried high away from the forge. Harsh is laid in state for her people to view, so they shall know the price paid to aid them. The girl's small figure is dressed in robes heavy with gold thread and gems as befits one of her station.

Gifts of all kinds are laid round her, but the most precious are the tears of her father and others. Who on learning of her courage and her giving freely of her soul are moved to pledge themselves to fight at the side of the small Koldred warrior.

Orders are given; a rock tomb for the heroine of the Knarled ones must be made. Men are sent into the tunnels to cut the marble. The job they do willingly and quickly. Too quickly for a crack appears in the rock. Unnoticed by them, but the Presence trapped, seeking a way, spots this small crack that is working its way deeper and deeper into the rock's heart.

Carefully the Presence inches into the crack and begins to seep up, seeking its revenge.

~~~~~~~
Lucas his mind full the the past events, thinking hard on what has happened, takes the length of metal meant for the large blade and wraps it in fine woolen cloth and sets it aside.

"Why," Anna asks.

"Is it not plain? One length has already its spirit, that I must finish now and quickly.

Anna nods in agreement and says "Then you will make the other?"

"It might not be needed." Lucas says softly, as he, the small blade begins to take shape under the measured blows of his hammer. A small section heated, hammered, the edges rounded, the fuller shaped, the tip formed. The tang onto which the cross, hilt and pommel will sit is drawn out. A deadly jigsaw, all the pieces now ready to be assembled.

"Why say you that." Anna ask, shock and confusion making her voice tremble. She had believed at first her fate was to be the spirit of the blade, that had been dispproved. Was she again to be shown to be wrong, was she just alone, without a purpose.

"Why, the one blade could be enough to deal with the enemy in the tunnels, free Harsh's people, let them live in peace." Lucas said as under Tuli's eyes he cradled the blade that was Harsh in his hand as he carefully fixed the cross into place.

"But the enemy outside, the other." Anna whispered, her fear mounting.

"It is an ememy? Or just something that will have its time and pass away, like this age is passing away. Must men always bleed and die at such times? Must one watch what one loves be snatched away by the battle, is good really so and is evil so unwanted?"

[Hereford Eye]

The war at High Peaks unfolds in little ways. Unnatural heat melts snow exposing Koldred passages for ogres to explore creating a dilemma for the beasts. On the one hand there is George and his army in plain sight, willing to do battle. On the other hand there are these fascinating little passage that beg to be searched. Ogres are not good decision makers. They are excellent followers of order but pitiful when it comes to demonstrating initiative. The momentary lack of leadership works to the Koldred advantage. Enticed thought they might be at the though of plowing through the snow to find and ruin even more tunnels, the Ogres turn to engage George, an enemy they see and understand.
The heated ground also serves as rallying points for the army of worms. Great masses congregate, overheat, and then plow forward into the snow. Vapor rises steadily from the point of contact between worm and ice, heat transfer displayed in noxious clouds. The worms die in remarkable numbers, chilled to death, yet every death removes a bit of snow. Inexorably, the worms advance, the snow retreats and the Koldred homeland evaporates into very thin air.
At the base of High Peak, runners stand ready to heed Elders advice, the fiction maintained. What the Elders announce are orders. What the Koldred hear is their best hope for survival yet both sides know the fiction of advice rendered and accepted cannot last the war. The Koldred way of life is evaporating as inexorably as the snow is melting.
“Worms can die,” the Keepers say. “Cold kills worms and knives kill worms but knives are far less certain.” The nerve centers at the worm’s head must be cut, excised. If not accomplished properly, the worm may simply receive the wounds, isolate them, and slough them off. “Let the snow do its task. Remove the Koldred to higher places. Wait.”
The more aggressive warriors grumble at this “advice” wishing to attack, to do something other than wait for the worms to arrive at High Peak. They grumble but they accept the advice realizing sword and knife against all those worms is not hopeless, merely wasted effort. The snow will do the job more efficiently and their turn will probably come anyway as the scouts report the supply of worms may well be inexhaustible.
The High Keeper addresses the discontent: “Defeating the worms mean defeating Malliss. While he walks the earth, the worms will continue.”
“Which one is Malliss” a soldier asks.
When you see him, you will know,” a Keeper responds.
“Why not search him out early and be done with this?”
Another Keeper responds: “Look for Malliss when victory seems certain. Then, ply the Blade.”
“What blade?” a soldier asks.
“Indeed,” the High Keeper says. “Indeed.”

[Holbrook]

The Presence shakes with anger it can not move fast enough to consume those that sort to contain it. So it splits. A hundred tendrils weave there way from the centre; a long rope with a blob on the end, a blob that shudders and changes shape as it goes forward. Each one is the remains of one that has joined the Presence.

There is the first, the guard his eyes blank, legs moving fast as if he is still trying to run away. Here is the General his mouth wide is disbelief, fingers clenching. Each figure roams the tunnels attached by the thinnest of threads to the Presence.

One bold Knarled one, defending her children, hacks with a kitchen knife at the invader. The blow passes through the shape of the once dwarf, but the steel, with it Arian handle sticks in the thread, wounding it. The soul of the once dwarf bleeds away through the gash with a sigh.

The woman flees; she garbles what has happened in short, breathless words to a solider; he in turn tells his officer and so down the line to the Earl.

The Earl comes to the forge and repeats the words.

“So Arian frees the taken, with Harsh to guide my hand I can free her people. Is the sword ready?” Tuli’s words echo round the great hall, where the forge has been set.

Lucas gives the small blade on final wipe with an oiled cloth and reluctantly gives the blade into Tuli’s hand. The Koldred warrior calls on the Knarled ones to arm themselves with anything made of Arian to hurl and strike at the Presence. The spirit blade Harsh echoes his call and shimmers brightly, her strength, the black/white surety of her youth infects all that see.

“Now will you make the other blade?” Anna asks pulling on Lucas arm.

“Not yet…” He answers turning to her.

“I am but man now and my strength is gone. Rest I must have.” Lucas’ answer is strangely put; Anna frowns then nods the strangeness she explains away by his tiredness.

“Then rest.” She says softly and kisses his cheek.

“In your arms as last time?” Lucas’ request is faint, without hope.

Anna at first thinks to refuse, then takes his hand and leads him to the quarters they shared a few nights ago. Part of her says this is wrong, but another screams take what you offered for yourself now, the end is close do not lose this too soon.

[Hereford Eye]

“It’s….it’s….ucky!”
Tuli agrees. He wouldn’t use that exact term but he knows what Harsh means, can feel the unsatisfactory nothingness she feels when she penetrates one of the presence’s clones. Harsh enters, the clone deflates in a sad little whoosh and that’s all there is to it.
“There ought to be more. Killing something, even something evil ought to have more consequence to it," the Gnarled One complains, her thoughts instantaneous in Tuli’s consciousness.
“They are not alive, Harsh They are simply mobile pieces of the presence itself. When we get to the main event, I expect there to be a much more horrible sensation.”
“But, you’re not worried about killing the presence?”
“That’s what we were prophesied to do, isn’t it? The question will be whether we come out the other side.”
The inner conversation continues as Tuli wields Harsh through a platoon of presence' clones, things capable of gobbling up dwarves, resisting normal blades, but no match at all for a Koldred mated with a Spirit Blade.
It’s the mated part that first bothered Tuli. It bothered Harsh as well but her teenage enthusiasm and curiosity overcame her uneasiness. She explored Tuli’s memories gasping with delight at some things, thoroughly disgusted with others but always aware of why and how Tuli came to be in a situation and how he was affected by the circumstance. She learned his mistakes as well as his victories.
Naturally, Tuli learned everything there is toknow about Harsh as well. The best part cwas understanding how the girl had grown from each experience, had been on her way to becoming a remarkable young woman.
The learning could not escape the physical sensations involved in living. Puberty, viewed from both sides makes a little more sense but not much. Understanding sex from both sides was more difficult. Tuli initially felt extreme guilt that Harsh was learning about men from his memories, guilty and embarrassed. Harsh attacked the memories with girlish enthusiasm and curiosity, prurient and wicked, but soon discovered the fun and games part carried a whole lot more than she and her friends had ever dreamed. She apologized to Tuli that she was unable to reciprocate and then laughed heartily at his relief that she could not.
All the things that made Harsh Harsh and Tuli Tuli were explored and argued and accepted because there was no choice but to do so. Believing one or the other had made an unforgivable mistake would weaken their bond. When they found things they disapproved of, they argued the pros and cons, the whys and wherefores and – sometimes grudgingly – learned to accept the other’s point of view and move on.
Tuli explained and Harsh compared his memories of the relationship he’d enjoyed with his Koldred mate and the realization of the total merging of their relationship and they both agreed, their mating was much more complete. Harsh grinned wickedly as Tuli reacted uncomfortably at this realization. It was a while before she could convince him that she was of marrying age and probably would have been sold off to the most eligible suitor in a very short time. Yes, her father loved her but politics is politics and reality requires real decisions.
Most of this learning came as they traveled the caverns confronting the clones. Tuli moved at Koldred speed so that the initial clone wave disappeared much more quickly than either had anticipated. They regained a quarter, then a half of the territory the presence had claimed. The further they advanced, the less resistance they experienced. The presence seemed to be withdrawing its clones.

Reports came to the presence of the new threat through the metaphysical connection between the original and its clones. The presence knew it was losing ground, knew that a Spirit Blade was moving against it, and knew that its clones were useless to stop a weapon of this power. The presence began calling its pieces home, reabsorbing them, increasing its own mass and power.
“Yeesss,” it thought, “a Spirit Blade of my own. How nice of them to send it to me! I will allow it to join me in my quest. With the Spirit Blade, even Malliss must pause before me. Yes, little ones, come to me. Come to me quickly.”

[Holbrook]

"Wake!" Tari shakes the man on who's chest she sits. Her fingers are curled in his garments. Tari's face is a mask of anger. A friend, no, two friends are facing the evil alone with none to watch their backs.

The second sword is still not made. Lucas moans softly as Tari continues to pummel him bouncing on his chest. His eyes flicket open and their gaze falls on Tari. She recoils falling backward, Lucas' eyes are for a second empty, no colour, no eyes at all, empty two wells of nothing. Then shape and colour fill the orbs and Lucas is awake, his hand coming up to run through his long hair.

"You wish to loose your life so soon?" He asks the Koldred female.

"I want to help" Tari hisses at the man and jumps onto a small table close to the bed.

"Help by dying." Lucas.

"You seem reluctant to make this blade?" Anna asks from his side as she too wakes to theday and the news of the battle being fought by others.

"Reluctant, yes more than you can every know." Lucas snaps and rises from the bed and sees to his body's needs. ignoring the two women.

Anna and Tari exchange glances and in time, follow Lucas back to the forge.

The coals are heated, the metal beaten, shaped. The last stages are done and the metal, cold now, as cold as the eyes of Lucas, who watches with blank expression as Anna takes the hilt in her hand. She fells the weight, measures the balance, swings the blade gently and rises it level with her eye, running her glance down its length. The blade is sweet, true and ready.

"Well?" Tari speaks and holds out her hands.

"You can still refuse, both of you." Lucas pushes the question.

Both women hold each others gaze and smile as one as Tari small hands close on the metal.

The act is as before, silent and still, yet all is noise and movement in the hearts and souls of the two women. They compare the contents of their lives. Anna, so many layers, so many times on this wheel of chaos and law of "good" and "evil" Knowledge of great things but none of the simple things.

The child in the womb, at the breast and walking away to their own life. Love yes, but always bitter tinged, never the warmth of shared days and memories.

Tari is aware of Lucas, I thread that runs through Anna's mind, through all her times the face different , but the man the same. As the blood trickles through her fingers, salting the blade Tari wonders on the nature of the man that has made this sword.

The Koldred woman's body crumbles and falls. Lucas catches her and lays the remains gently on velvet fabric wrapping the small shape with care. He then looks at Anna and softly says "Goodbye."

[Hereford Eye]

The tunnels grow darker, the lights the Gnarled Folk normally scatter about gone with the last of the former servants to the presence. Tuli’s eyes move at Koldred speed to gather stray beams and shafts remaining below allowing the hunter to move at close to Koldred normality down the tunnels. Harsh provides commentary as they go.
“I certainly do not know what you intend to do about this ‘thing’. I couldn’t bear to be in its presence and ran for my life. Don’t know that I’ll feel any different this time. Well, certainly, I am a blade now and meant to do the ‘thing’ in but knowing what I am and being what I am may be two different lizards of two different colors.
“Although you are playing at the strong silent type and not responding directly to my ramblings, I know you are wondering the same thing. You cannot hide these thoughts or the feelings that go with them. Whether I am mature enough to deal with your notions is not the issue and you know it. By definition, I am as mature as you are.
“Eliminating the ‘thing’s’ clones is not the same as eliminating the ‘thing,’ you know. And the ‘thing’ has had all this time to prepare for us so it isn’t as if we will catch it unawares.
“Damn it, man, talk to me!”
Tuli smiles at the teenager’s impatience. He knows her thoughts as well as she knows his. This truth gets through to Harsh who immediately responds: “Don’t get all condescending with me, Tuli. I know where the secrets are buried. I’m buried with them, you know.”
Both laugh at this threat, understanding the mutuality of the possibility. Should one attempt blackmail the other has the means to match the gambit and redouble the stakes.
“Then simply tell me what the plan might be…….please?”
“Ah,” Tuli replies, “courtesy remembered? At long last?” and then flinches at the mental kick in the pants Harsh delivers.
“I have no clue,” Tuli says. “I simply believe in the prophecy and the two of us together.”
“Oh, great. Just wonderful. The big bold warrior is taking on the monster with nothing more than faith.”
“Do you have a better plan?”
Harsh is forced into a momentary silence.
“That’s what I thought,” Tuli grins.
The conversation continues, back and forth, as Tuli continues downward. Their combined memories recognize places from their previous experience in these caverns so that progress towards the cavern of the presence accumulates. Nearing their destination, Harsh begins to sense the malevolent nature of their foe before them. Tuli slows allowing Harsh to report what she can, incorporating her information into his plans as they move forward.
“Ah,” she cries in mock triumph. “You do have a plan.”
“Hush, girl, and concentrate on your task.”
The pair move on.

[Holbrook]

The joining of Anna and Tari was a meshing of ideas, thoughts, longing. Each rubbed at the other, wearing a grove, settling together like a door within a frame, (least after the bottom was trimmed and the hinges rehung.) It was a matter of getting to "fit" with each other.

Anna stood the sword in hand, unaware of time passing. "Where is he?" Tari asked, the voice soft, vibating through every fibre of Anna's being.

Anna looked round. The forge was cold and of Lucas there was no sign.

"I have lost him." Anna said, realising that she was crying.

"I am sorry.... " Tari offered comfort, embracing, holding her companion's soul close.

"A choice, both of us, everytime a choice, maybe one time one of us will make a different one."

"Maybe..." the sword that was Tari shuddered at that thought. She did not like the idea of Anna chosing differently and Lucas, could he be other than he was?

~~~

George had come up the mountain to fight worms and found himself at the head of an army fighting another army. What frightened him was it felt right. That by fighting now, he was preventing the fighting to come. That by killing now, others would not have to kill. That felt very right, very as it should be.

The enmey had drawn off, they were waiting for something or some one. With the dawn the someone came. A figure mounted on a huge grey stallion. Wrapped in a flowing cloak of red the man, least it looked like a man gathered the enemy army to him, becoming the eye of the storm.

George gathered his own forces and waited, for an attack, for something else.

~~~

The presense hissed and slithered, it sniffed hard. Oh the smell of the sword in the hands of the wee man.... sniff.. slither....hiss.... it crawled round a corner and said "boo..."

[Hereford Eye]

They have seen the presence before. This doesn’t seem to help endure the presence a second time. Sibilant greetings aside, the menace and malevolence form a crushing weight on the Koldred warrior and the teenaged blade.
“Welcome, little onesss,” the presence continues. “How nice of you to deliver a spirit blade to me. I look forward to ussssing the blade to defeat your people.”
“Not hardly,” Harsh yelps though the words are not audible to the presence. Tuli leaps forward, a powerful thrust aimed at a point generally in the middle of the enormous mass facing them. His arm rebounds without the blade puncturing the presence’ surface. Again, he thrusts; again, his arm rebounds.
“Can’t puncture it, Tuli. Let’s try cutting.”
“No, little onesss,” you cannot slay me as you would a dragon or even one of your own kind. I am more than you, more than dragons, more than anything crawling thissss world.
“Admit your fate. Give in peasssssefully and join me in my great work.”
“Do you have any brilliant ideas?” The thought caroms in Tuli’s head for a heartbeat or two and then his triumphant “yes” fills their combined spirits. At the same time, the presence expands, filling the cavern, pinning the Koldred to the wall.
“Now would be a good time to share your plan,” Harsh thinks.
Arms with hands develop on the presence’ surface. One hand removes Harsh, the spirit blade, from Tuli’s grip. Two more hands grasp Tuli’s form. The presence’ mass subsides.
“It’s way past time, Tuli. What’s the plan?”
“We can’t kill it from outside. That means we need to be inside. I’m joining you in the blade for a while.”
The combined spirits watch the presence lift the Koldred’s body, gazing almost tenderly at the form.” Come join me,” it says and places the body feet first against its mass. Absorption begins.
The spirits watch but the body experiences. Excruciating pain explodes throughout the Koldred form causing Tuli’s spirit to writhe in agony. The pain is real to both Tuli and Harsh but Harsh is enough removed to be able to comfort Tuli, to wrap herself around him and shield him from the worst.
Feet, ankles, shins, knees, thighs. Absorption continues in relentless application of agony after agony yet the twined spirits withstand the pain, keep focused on what they intend. Tuli causes his right arm to extend upwards away from the presence’ to arrange for his right hand to be the final portion of his body to be absorbed.
The presence’ attention is riveted to the sensation of absorption. Useless struggles by the Koldred body mean nothing. All that matters is the pleasure the Koldred’s form produces as it melds with the presence.
At last, just the hand remains outside the presence. “Now,” Tuli commands. Both he and Harsh leap to the grip of that right hand, the spirit blade journeying with them across the gap. With the blade firmly in hand, the last of Tuli disappears inside the presence taking with it the blade.
Inside the mass, the duo’s spirits take quick stock of their situation, sense the essence of their enemy and commit the spirit blade with one last powerful thrust. It might be the heart or it might be the soul but it is what makes the presence live. Indomitable when protected by the mass surrounding it, puny when attacked as it is now, the essence cannot withstand the attack. The blade pierces and destroys this true version of the presence’ existence.
As with its clones, the presence gives up its ghost with a sad little whoosh. There is not enough time for the presence to register surprise, perhaps not enough time for it to realize what has happened. The enormous mass deflates, the presence no longer viable, and all that remains of the terror is an ugly mess on the cavern floor.
Within the gelatinous refuse left behind, the spirit blade lies equally lifeless. Having performed the role for which it was made, the blade now rests in peace.

[Holbrook]

For Anna and Tari, the rush down passaged and low tunnels is stopped by a feeling. A kick in the gut, one that makes both shudder and Anna fall to her knees, the sword slipping from her hand, but the contact with Tari remaining. for in reality, if such can exist in such a situation two women knelt hugging one another, arms giving comfort to what they know has happened.

"Gone... both..." Tari whsipered.

"At rest..." Anna sobs.

"Will we?" Tari asks.

"I don't know..." Anna replies honestly and gets to her feet gathering up her sword. They should turn round, go back, face whatever is out side the land of the knarled ones. But first....

The continue down into the carved bowels of the earth. When they reach the place of the presense's demise. Both are puzzled and surprised that such evil, such a creature had left nothing, no mark on the surface of the world, only marked the souls of Harsh's people and would do so for genetations to come.

"Such is the way of evil, what it does is never forgotten. But good, the little things that make life never survive till the next sunset. Because we expect them to be done, we never expect evil." Tari says shaking her head.

"But we have to face it, dont we?" Anna adds and looks down at the small sword. She should leave it where it lays, but something in her makes her pick it up, embrace it and tuck it into the belt round her waist. A small knife a mirror of the sword in her hand.

"We go now?" Tari asks.

"Yes... out onto High Peak..." Anna replied and felt a flutter in her heart, she did not know what to expect...

"Neither do I " Tari commented.

##

The forces on the mountian slopes continued to eye each other up. One now had a centre, a focus, a force spinning and weaving plots and ideas. No tallk here other than what the being allowed, no thoughts other than that required.

The other waited, waited for things to begin. Men and other races sat in groups, round camp fires, swapping stories, cleaninbg kit, getting to know each other and moaning about the world as was their right. People had a right to moanm for soliders it was a Gods given right to moan, complain and then do what had to be done.

Maybe that was what was at stake here the right to be you, not what someone wanted you to be.