The Guardians Of The Marshes

By

JOHN BAXTER

Prologue
In a time when magic was lying, wounded on its deathbed, and long before the birth of science, there came a period within the evolution of man, where the awakening of understanding of the world around him, and the creatures that shared this epoch made him a little less in awe and more in understanding of nature and everything it threw at them in those dark days. Man had learned a little of how to control his immediate environment, building shelters, farming crops, and learning the ways and seasonal patterns of Mother Nature. Life was much harder then but also so much simpler. In a world before religion, there still remained a small belief in the black arts of magic, of witches and wizards, alchemy and curses. At certain times of the year, some of the elders of the surrounding villages would gather, and talk of life, gossip, rumour, and of course, stories. Stories of real ancient heroes, and stories of real ancient legends. The elders would gather around the prepared tables in the centre of the meeting houses, drinking copious amounts of ale brewed specially for the occasion, and tell the odes and yarns that had been passed down generation to generation over thousands of years, keeping alive by word of mouth the heritage, folklore, and traditions of the many and varied dwellers of the land. One such story, which told of great magic, where the real and true details were always shrouded in much mystery, would always somehow surface in the discussions. They would talk of the lands to the west of what is now known as Deaton, a large region, once totally deserted, but now had a large gold mining town in the area, a Dry Zone desert in between it and the farmsteads and villages in the Eastern Deaton area, springing up where the tributaries and streams fed down from the higher hillsides to supply natural running clean water for the people as well as the crops and livestock. The area of Western Deaton has only one source of natural water, a stream rushing down the high, almost impassable mountains that framed the whole of that area to the north and west. To the south of both areas lay vast marshes over a hundred miles wide, formed from the stream waters of the East and West Deaton lands. The marshes were fresh water and covered with soft, deadly peat. These huge marshes almost divided the whole region from west to east, and were lethal to the foolish traveller who did not know the way of the paths, and it was said that many a poor soul perished trying to cross them. Until the homesteads and villages were developed over in the east, and the town of Picalda in the west to mine gold from the mountains, only the Southern Lands, the marshlands, were known to have been inhabited. Of the many stories that came and went with time, only one stood the test of time, the telling of the Southern People still remained. It was said that these

people possessed an amazing magic; an awesome, all-powerful magic that black hearted men would kill to possess. As the ale flowed, the stories got even bigger and more exaggerated. Of course, it was only a story, just a yarn. The real legend has not yet happened.

Chapter One
The room was in almost total darkness; the only illumination entering this stone walled chamber was through a very small opening high up on one of the longer walls, allowing a small shaft of fading light to illuminate the wall opposite confirming how small this place really was. The walls were streaked with water, and dampness in the air allowed the fungus to grow from the stone. Here, at some time recently small rivulets of water had ran down the grooves between the clumps of algae when the rains had been blown in by the coming winter gales into the single opening above. The gales had gone, and the rain had ceased, but the sound of the dripping residue remained, beating out a quiet plopping rhythm on the floor. The stench of dampness and stale animal droppings still filled the air, making it feel so cold and unwelcoming. On the floor, thick scatterings of a basic mix of straw with a little sawdust added for absorption was spread unevenly throughout the room, in an attempt to keep the floor of the almost corridor shaped chamber dry, creating the first impression that this room must be used as a sort of barn or stable, the safe night time home of the beasts of the fields, brought in away from the dangers of the night from the many wild and hungry animals that roamed the hills around the area. Wolf and bear were known to hunt at night throughout the valleys, according to the locals who lived in a small village at the bottom of one of them, giving added credence to the possible use of this room as a safe haven for stock. This evening however, there was no livestock sheltering inside this damp, dark room. It still wasnt empty. Numerous nocturnal insects were beginning their forage for their daily feasts, crawling among the old straw, trying to pick out some tiny titbit of food from the dried droppings of the previous bovine or equine residents. Little nibbles that the farmers or grooms had missed when doing their cleaning out after the animals had returned to the fields. This plethora of uncleared detritus allowed these cockroaches to develop to quite a size, secreting themselves in the daytime within the many large cracks in the old walls, emerging only in the evening to gorge themselves when they felt it safe to do so. There were so many of these large, crawling creatures moving across the floor under the straw, all of them trying to reach the food first to claim the best parts, but there were so many, they had to all feed together. With the heaving of so many creatures in such a small area, it gave the impression that the floor was heaving continuously, silently, and yet a fervour of activity.

In one of the corners, a large rat appeared from out of a small hole, coming up through the floor. It paused, and sniffed the air, cautiously, and quietly, checking this way and that. It was very much aware of the masses of insects climbing over the top of each other to secure what scraps lay hidden under or stuck to this putrid straw. These were not his focus of interest. He could sense something else, something he couldnt see at first but could detect by his powerful sense of smell, and what he detected was something that was of great interest to him. He could smell animal flesh. He could smell fresh animal flesh with the distinct smell of blood emanating from it. Fresh because this animal was still alive and being a coward he kept away for his own safety. He knew that all he needed to do at present was bide his time. He knew that this was now only a waiting game, all he had to do was remain in the shadows until the animal was overcome by the imminent death, and the prize would be his until the other members of the rodent family below him in the hole smelt the pallor of death and hungrily descended on the carcass. He would have the first pickings, the choicest cuts. He sat and watched his prey from a safe distance. In the opposite corner, underneath a filthy old cloak, was a bloodstained and severely beaten human being. Not very old, maybe eight or nine years of age, this poor wretch was having difficulty drawing breath because of the severe damage done to the small ribcage that housed the lungs. Arms and legs were bruised and swollen in many places, the joints of the fingers, arms, and knees having been bent backwards in torture. The cloak moved from the face as this poor wretch tried to move, in an effort to ease the pain and be able to draw breath, but to no avail. This captive was a young girl. This young person had been brutally tortured by a sadistic well-trained torturer, every device available to invoke pain had been used to try to break the information needed out of this little waif. His employer had demanded that this information must be wrung out of her at all costs. She had the key, she knew the answers. Try as he might, this little girl had spirit, and even when her fingernails were being forcibly pulled out of their nail beds, she would not give up the information. The rack had broken her limbs, and dislocated her joints; the whip had left huge deep wields across her small back, which was bleeding profusely, the first batch of clotting being removed by the whip the second time. Even the red-hot branding irons used from the fires to scorch her naked skin had still failed to make this child talk. He had been on all day, and had learned nothing. The childs life was slipping away when the torturer decided to stop and wait till the next day, then try again, when his client was a little stronger. The guard had carried this floppy package of a person to this stable room, and dropped her in the corner, locking the door as he left, something he need not have bothered to do, as this little girl was too weak to do anything, and could not walk or crawl. As she lay there, many thoughts were running through her young head. She lay there, suffering in extreme agony, broken and alone, totally confused as to why these people were doing this to her.

Had she done something wrong? Had she upset perhaps a noble or a landed gentleman without realising? Someone must be really angry with her to have people do all of this to her. She was confused, and frightened. She lay, in agony, oblivious to the sounds of the straw moving under her as the cockroaches continued their forage. She was oblivious to the sounds of the rats, squeaking off at each other for supremacy at the other end of the room. She had always been oblivious to sound, as she was born deaf, a deaf mute. She even now cried without sound. Later that evening, in a way, a blessing, the rats got their feast.

Chapter Two
Above the small village of Alephin, on the hillside that bordered the valley below, in the farmstead house surrounded by a garden, Katrillion sat on the edge of her little wooden bed. She had fed her little brothers the porridge mixture her mother had left there for her to prepare just before they went to bed. She had tucked them in and said goodnight to them in their wooden bunk beds, hand made by their father for Katrillion and her sister Marally when they had been younger. Condran, the elder of the two was the senior brother, being all of twelve years old, so claimed the top bunk, while his younger brother Beaden who was only ten, had no say in the matter. Katrillion, who was now fourteen, and more or less a woman, had her own bed, along one wall, with a clear view of the other siblings around her, Marallys bed being at the foot of hers, though she being almost nine, was no problem at all to look after. She looked around the only room that was the total of the house they lived in, the house itself made of sturdy wood planks, with dirty cloths fixed around the walls to try to keep out the winds that whistled through the valley quite often at this time of year. Built by their father, it was simple in its design and cheap to build, but it still satisfied their needs, the small stone fireplace with a small fire in the grate at one end allowing them to stay warm enough even in the coldest of winters, and to cook the grains and the occasional meat they had from their smallholding farm. In the centre of the room stood a heavy wooden table, another of the craft work of the father, and six chairs around it, all of their positions marked out by the indentations of the mud floor, and then over near the fire were the stools with cushions, made by the mother, used for the night time conversations and explaining their days to each other, as the candles and oil lamps at this end of the room could be lifted to the mantle or hung on the hooks alongside, to give cheery light to a normally dark room. It was a very happy household, the father, Walgard, was good with his hands and, when not tending to his own chores or livestock at his own property, he would do work for other, less able people down in the village below who needed a fence repaired, of a small woodshed built. He would even chop the wood for the more infirm among the elders. They always paid him, though not always in money, but these were things he could use, like the occasional chicken, which

meant his own could keep laying a little longer, or if a beast had been slaughtered, he was given the fats so he could render it down to make the oil to put in the lamps, and to waterproof his clothes, and the house roof. A placid man by nature, though sometimes wore his heart on his sleeve, and occasionally this would be exploited by some folk to get their own way. He often did a days work for three potatoes, or similar. The mother, Sisilend, had been a striking beauty when Walgard had first met her, blond hair, and blue eyes, a beauty that was starting to show in their daughters now. Even after having four children, she still managed to look younger than her years. Her skin, with almost constant daily exposure to strong sunshine had retained its fresh look, her blond, sun streaked hair created naturally by working outdoors on her chores, feeding the chickens and the swine, and collecting the eggs for market. It had become easier lately, as Katrillion had been able to help with the looking after of the siblings while she could get on with the work. Even Marally would sometimes like to help, but it was difficult sometimes with the big chores, but they could still be of help by drawing water from the well, and grinding the grains into flour, a boring but really necessary job. There was a shadow hanging over the house of late. Her father, Walgard had been leaving the house at first light, and remaining out until after dark, and her mother was travelling to and from the village, round the houses, asking questions. Last night, Katrillion woke and heard her mother crying softly in her bed, a simple quiet little cry, almost like a whimper. Her father had said something to her, quietly, and it fell silent again. Katrillion was old enough to understand what was going on, but the boys had to be shielded. Marally, her younger sister had gone missing. It had been two days now, and no one had seen or heard of her in that time. No one from Alephin or the surrounding areas had seen her taken. Perverts! Sisilend would lie there, thinking about the acts her little girl would be forced to perform, and no way of voicing her protests. She could almost feel the pain of what her little girl would be going through. She could not understand why anyone could or would want to hurt a child, especially one so loving as Marally. She is a lovely, pleasant, pretty little girl, always smiling, always happy. She could not laugh out loud or cry out either because she had never heard these things. She had been born deaf. That night, as she lay in her bed, Katrillion heard Walgard telling Sisilend to expect the worst. Whoever had taken her were long gone, and little chance of finding her alive and unsullied.

Chapter Three
For the first few weeks, life was difficult around the farm. Walgard had been forced to give up looking for his daughter, and had returned to his work, more from financial necessity than choice. He still had the remainder of his family to feed, so he had to work, doing what he did, providing for the remaining members of his household. It hurt him deeply when he gazed at the empty chair next to the

table, between Katrillion and Condran as they ate their evening meal, but he had to be a man, and for the sake of his family, show strength. Sisilend unfortunately did not possess the internal strength of her husband, though, like him, for the sake of the remaining children, she put on the bravest face she could, though not with much degree of success and so onions became almost a daily food in the household. She knew, in her heart of hearts that she would never see her daughter again, and remembered the words of her own mother, who still lives in their old family home over in Lassabek, the house from where she was married all those years ago, some two villages and a days travel away from here in Alephin, that the boys will always be safe. Nothing can or will harm them as they grow up. She must protect the girls however from a possible darkness that could befall them. Sisilend had taken this to mean the possibility of rape or sexual slavery, something of that nature, as both Katrillion and Marally shared the striking good looks of their mother, and their grandmother. She did not know the answer to her question of why me? Katrillion was a godsend to her though, this young lady being able to turn her talents to almost all of the household chores, including the cooking and the cleaning, and was very good at entertaining the little brothers with chores that were made to look like games, and she would do this right up until they were old enough for their father to teach them the real hunting and trapping skills they would need for their own future survival, and that of their eventual families. Sisilend, though thankful of the help, also became very protective of Katrillion, and kept strict restrictions on some of the things she was allowed to do alone, so this meant that every market day in Alephin, and there were two a week, with a third every fourth week taking in the added livestock market being held all at the same time, she would have to take Katrillion and both of the boys with her so she could watch them all closely, and not leave them at home alone. They would load their cart with the harvested excesses of vegetables ready for eating from their huge market garden, fruit also picked and loaded when they were in season, and any excess eggs laid by the chickens, together with sacks of both the corn grain and ground wholemeal flour as some villagers liked to grind their own, but others didnt, so they supplied both. It also gave them a chance to shop for material for clothing, and shoes, with perhaps the odd treat or two for the boys depending on how their goods sold. Their life was not easy, but they could provide for themselves, and with some of the money given to Walgard for his labours, they could pick up meat from animals they did not keep, like goat, or lamb. More importantly though, these markets were the social interaction centres of the people in the local area, a few of which had heard things from other outside areas, and so on, getting to know what was going on in the world they occupied. Some of the women traders could gossip for hours. By the end of market day, the whole region knew who had been born of late, and to whom, who had proposed to whom and also those who married, and those who had passed away. If there was any information to be had, then the market on market day was the place to be. While catching up with the latest news, Sisilend heard a snippet of information about a small girl vanishing without trace from one of the neighbouring villages, a girl not much older than Marally had been, the parents searching for weeks, but finding nothing.

This prompted her to start asking more questions about this strange occurrence. It appears that this was not the first, or indeed the only one to have happened recently, though in the early disappearances, it was assumed that either wolves or bears played a part in their vanishing. However, the children who had vanished, over a period of time did not know each other, their parents did not know each other, and they were not in any way related, so this ruled out a family feud. It also made it look like each was an isolated incident as none of the parents were in communication with each other, so there could not be any comparisons made. Over a succession of market days, Sisilend was able to glean a little more information each time about these vanishing children. She did not believe, like some of the more religious villagers did, that some Imp from Hell had come from below to take these innocents down to the Devil himself for his amusement, and the taking of their innocent soul. From what information she had received, it appeared that there was some sort of pattern to these disappearances, and in the back of her mind, her own mothers words from a long time past were telling her. If only she could remember what they were. The winter eventually came and passed, and then the spring with its promise of new life which then gave way to summer, with its longer, warmer days, and the promise of bountiful crops. They were able to put more produce onto the cart, and sell it at a better price because of the improved quality of their wares and foodstuffs, and Walgard was now almost totally employed building a complete house down in Alephin for a young couple, and being well paid on a daily basis, for his labours. Things were improving in the family lives. The market meetings still continued, with the trade in the area moving at a healthy pace as most of the goods were now coming into season, and the information highway continued to satisfy everybodys curiosity, as to who did what, to whom, where and when. That was until some disturbing information reached Sisilends ears that made her take notice. While chatting among the other women at the market, about yet another little girl going missing the week before, the old lady telling the story gave a description of the missing girl, possibly in the hope that someone might have seen her. This prompted others who had told the stories of other disappearances also then described the missing girls they knew of. They were not related, they did not know each other, nor did their parents or grandparents. They didnt even live in the same borough. They did, however, share one, and only one common factor, and this made Sisilend very uneasy indeed. They all had blue eyes. Sisilend has blue eyes, Marally her missing child had blue eyes, and Katrillion has bright blue eyes. Whatever was targeting these children could soon target Katrillion, and so from now on she would need the protection of her mother at all times. Katrillion didnt see it this way. The children who had vanished were all between ten and eleven years of age, and relatively defenceless. Katrillion was nearly fifteen, and stronger than most, having beaten boys her own age at play

fighting at the market, and felt she could look after herself. She did not want any of these restrictions to be placed on her by her mother only on the strength of stories of little girls with blue eyes going missing. Her sister Marally had blue eyes, but a grey/blue colour. To Katrillion, Sisilend was clutching at straws, and perhaps inventing the facts to fit the framework, a hypothesis her father Walgard also agreed with. To overprotect and restrict the life of the daughter based on some stories, some gossip, some hearsay, none of which proven would be used to deny the girl her independence. Sisilend could have argued at this point, but decided to leave things as they were. She knows things.

Chapter Four
As the warm summer days gave way to the cool autumn, and the colours of the land went from green to gold, the main grain and root harvests were now being gathered in by Walgard and some of the other farmers from the village. They helped each other to gather in the harvests from the fields of their neighbours so as to maximise production from the whole area, which would then be utilised throughout the winter for the benefit of the whole community. The peas, the beans, and all of the other pulses were all gathered from their pods, the grains were separated from the hay, and stored for winter, the hay being fed to the livestock which was being brought in under cover before the long and cold winter arrives, and the root crops of potatoes and beets stored in the cool dry barns till needed. This hive of activity was quite normal for the farmers throughout this region, and had been going on for hundreds of years. This year was no exception. The gathering of the crops had gone ahead as normal, indeed it had been a bumper crop, but on the eve of market day, Condran, the elder of the two boys, had taken sick. He was running a fever, and was unable to leave his bed. The family needed the money for the sales at the market tomorrow, as to wait till the next; the already picked produce would be ruined and unsalable. Financially, they had to go to market, but it was creating a problem for Sisilend. She needed to work out which course of action would be the safest for Katrillion. If she herself were to go to market, and leave Katrillion at home with the poorly Condran and his younger brother, this would leave Katrillion exposed, as there would be nobody else there to watch over her. If, however, Sisilend stayed with the children herself, and Katrillion went to market alone, she would be in full view of most of the village for most of the day, including all of their friends. Her father could make sure she got there safely, and collect her at the end of market day. This seemed the safer option. It was quite exciting for Katrillion the next day, to take the family produce to market, and her list of items to buy for the household while she was there, and to do it all by herself. She now had a chance to prove she was worth the respect given.

The cart was loaded, and Katrillion, together with about two weeks worth of production, set out for the Alephin village market with her father. She knew she had to sell well, as her whole family depended on the sales of their produce just to survive, and she had it in her head that she would not let the family down. She would prove her worth. The market bristled with the same fervour as it always did, and as it had done for countless years, people buying what they needed for their survival, and the merchants buying what they could get from the ordinary people for a knockdown price, and then sells it all elsewhere at a big profit. The goods that Katrillion was selling were of no real interest to the merchants, cloth being their main purchases, so she was able to concentrate on others like herself from the farmsteads to purchase her goods. By the end of the market day, Katrillion had been able to clear most of their stock picked from the vegetable garden, and all of the eggs had been sold. She had been able to buy some thick material at a really low price, which they would use to hang around the walls of the house to protect them from the cold of the coming winter, and also some large pots and pans for the many winter broths that would form the majority of their diet over the cold season. All in all, she felt she had done well converting what they had to what they needed, and, at the end of the day, as she packed up what was left unsold back onto the cart, pleased that there was little left to return home with. She felt quite proud of herself. She waited for her father to come and collect her, as all of the stallholders were now packed away and leaving the market place. When she was the only one remaining, she turned the cart towards home, thinking her father must have been delayed. Her father and mother should be quite pleased with her first attempt at solo marketing, and she thought of the forthcoming accolades as she guided the cart along the track road homeward and away from the village. The sun was setting as she arrived home, the air damp with the pre-winter mists that plague the higher ground as the seasons change. As she rounded the perimeter wall and then onto the cart track into the yard, she expected her family to run out to greet her, except for perhaps poorly Condran, who would most probably still be in bed, or her father who might still be working. No one came. Nothing moved. Katrillion took the cart with the horse to the stable, unloading the purchased wares together with the returns onto the benches in the stable, unhooked the cart, putting it on its end in the corner where it always stood, and then set about sorting and feeding the horse first before walking up to the house. Her father had always said, take care of the animals first before you come into the house to eat. Her parents could be watching her to make sure she did this right. This could be a test. She walked into the house, and looked around. It was empty. There were only embers for a fire in the hearth, no pots boiling over the fire, just a quiet empty space. Katrillion thought for a moment. Perhaps Conran had deteriorated, and, as she had their only cart at the market, they had used another method to get him to the healer. All she had to do was light up the fire, and prepare a stew for them coming back, set up the places at the table, and wait. She fell asleep waiting.

She woke, still sitting in the chair by the now almost again dead fire. It was still dark outside, so she threw another couple of logs onto the dying fire, knowing her father would not object, and settled down to wait a little longer. The wait became four days; Katrillion now thought that something must be wrong, really wrong. Where was her family, all of them? Why did they not leave a message if something had gone wrong? She trusted her family with everything, so where were the answers? By the fifth day, Katrillion knew she must seek help from her eldest living relative, her maternal grandmother to survive. It was with a heavy heart that she had to abandon the family farm here overlooking the village of Alephin, where she had so many happy memories, a place where they had not only survived, but also had really lived. This time, the cart was not laden with market goods, but with whatever personal belongings she had, and anything that could be of use to her grandmother at her house. With the hood of her cloak drawn up over her head to keep out the biting winds, she started the days drive to her new home in the village of Lassabek many miles away. She was totally bewildered by what was happening to her, but hoped her life would get some kind of order soon.

Chapter Five
Inside the walls of the huge castle up on the hill, overlooking the town of Picalda, sitting in the Large Hall was Lord Gryanth, the self proclaimed Lord of all he surveyed, or conquered, whichever took his fancy. He sat alone, in the dark, lit only by the huge fire roaring away in the fireplace over to his left. His feet were dangling over one of the arms of the throne like chair he was sitting on as he mused about his next move. The callous expression on his face betrayed the fact that he was not a generous person, and he had gained a reputation in his earlier land conquests of being really cruel to anything and everything he commanded, and he commanded a huge area having usurped the resident lords or barons, taking everything eastward as far as the land of Deaton. He was a conqueror in name only, as he was a coward by nature, ordering his army to do all of his dangerous work for him, spending his time working on another little scheme to make him even more powerful and feared than he already was. He was self-centred in everything he ever did or ordered to be done, and when he heard the rumour of the existence of a power that could make him almost

god-like over the masses, he decided he wanted it. He was going to have it, no matter what. A lot of people had already died, and more will die tonight until he found the answer he was looking for. Mere underlings, serfs and fodder were not going to stop him becoming the all-powerful overlord he craved to be. The huge door at the other end of the hall opened, and many servants carrying huge candles in tall candlesticks walked the length of the hall, placing the candles at two-foot intervals in two rows from the throne to the door. Gryanth, turned himself into the correct seated position, after all, he had to show breeding and leadership to these masses. From the back of the hall, a commotion sounded, chains clanked and rough voices barked out orders. Soldiers now lined the way standing alongside the candlesticks, all the way to the front. A hooded figure walked down this aisle of people, and, on reaching the dais on which Gryanth sat, dropped to one knee. My Lord, I have done as you asked. I have sent the little ones to labour in your gold mines of Roxa, and brought the others to you personally. The figure stood up, and removed his hood, stepping to one side so as to allow Gryanth to see the prisoners being brought in. It was the torturer from the cellars. The chains clanked, as two soldiers almost dragged one of the prisoners down to where Gryanth was sitting, and threw the person to their knees. It was Sisilend. She had been beaten already, her hair showing signs of matted blood, her face swollen from constant blows received from the torturer as he went about his work of softening up the prisoner for interrogation. She remained in the kneeling position The guards then brought in the second prisoner, Walgard, who had also been thoroughly beaten too, his eyes swollen and bruised, his lips split where his teeth had gone through them. Blood was caked to both of his arms, clearly visible near to where the log of wood had been forced through his chains to immobilise his arms. He was dragged to the front, but was left standing. Gryanth wanted him to see everything that was going on. Gryanth stood up, and approached Sisilend, looking down on her with disdain. I want you to tell me the secret, he started to speak directly at her, I want to know the secret, and you will tell me what I want to know She remained silent. Did you not hear me woman, I want to know the secret, and I know you possess it! at which point he pushed his hand under her chin and forced her head back. She still remained silent, looking straight into his angry but frightened face. You are of the blue eyes, the keepers of the power I seek, and I want this power shown to me, and you will show me At this Gryanth raised his studded gloved hand and slapped Sisilend using his backhand across the face. Walgard tightened the grip on his chains. He leaned over her again, You will demonstrate this power to me now, or I will keep on hurting you till you do, and he raised his foot, and swung a kick at her face, knocking her onto her side on the floor. The guards lifted her back onto her knees. All of you people with the blue eyes have the power, now, give it to me!

Sisilend still remained silent. She had only heard rumours, well stories really, of this power herself, but had no idea what it was or how to command it. Gryanth picked up a club from the seat behind him, and raised it to strike her with it, when Walgard became furious, and reacted to try to save her. He wanted to intervene and stop the beating his wife was about to get at the hands of this sadistic bastard. So intent was he on moving forward and trying to stop the blows that were about to rain down on his wife from this despot that he failed to see the blade of the sword wielded by one of the guards behind him, that took his head cleanly from his body. Sisilend was looking down at the floor as the head of her husband rolled passed her, coming to a stop against the dais; the now lifeless eyes of what had been her husbands staring straight at her. She screamed. Gryanth hit her over and over again, asking the question over and over again, till finally fracturing her skull. She remained defiant, right up until death released her from her tormentors.

Chapter Six
The house at Lassabek was larger than the house Katrillion had left in Alephin, having once been the family home of Sisilend and the other siblings her mother had grown up with, so the additional possessions brought on the cart when she moved in were easily absorbed into the rooms with the other furniture. She even had a space of her own, something of a luxury from the old house. However, she still missed the house, and the people who had lived in it, her father and mother, Marally, Condran and little Beaden. The evening meals when they were all together, sharing not only the food, but also the love they had for each other. They had been a close family, now torn apart for some unknown reason, and the hope of seeing them again scattered to the four winds. It would take Katrillion a long time to understand. Her grandmother Ulsen, tried very hard at first to console her in her grief, and in an attempt to occupy her mind, she got Katrillion to help out as much as she could around the house. They had livestock and crops the same as their old house had had, and even more now since Katrillion brought her stock with her here too, so they would take a lot more looking after. This tactic worked for a while, but only a while. Unfortunately, Katrillion was getting restless, and moody. Something was on her mind, and it was tearing her up inside. Ulsen could see that the short term measures she had put into place to try to keep her calm were not working any more, and it would soon be time to explain a few things to her, as she had done to her mother, Sisilend before her. Lassabek, like Alephin, had two markets a week, and Ulsen would take their produce, with Katrillions help now, to market, as Sisilend had done in Alephin, and trade goods and gossip. This village was two valleys further north of the Alephin valley, and it was good for Katrillion to hear messages from some of her old friends and their families back there though, in time these also dried up. Within a year or so of arriving, Katrillion had, at last, been able to settle down into where she was now living. Whatever was haunting her was now firmly at

the back of her mind. Her grandmother was good to her, and she was of great help to her grandmother. The seasons came and went, and life seemed to settle down at last. That was, until one day in the early spring, at one of the weekly markets in Lassabek, Ulsen heard something she did not really want to hear. This information would now force her hand, and she could leave it no longer. It was becoming too dangerous to leave things as they are. She sat by the fire that night, contemplating and trying to pick the words she wanted to use so as not to frighten Katrillion, but to educate her. After a few minutes, she asked Katrillion to join her at the hearth, as she had something to tell her. Katrillion came over and sat at the feet of Ulsen, wondering if there was news. My dear child, she began, stroking her fingers through Katrillions hair, I have much to tell you, and it is going to be difficult, so, please allow me to explain Katrillion looked up with a puzzled expression on her face, replying, What troubles you so much grandmother, that you need to ask me to listen? Ulsen smiled down at Katrillion, looking into those big blue eyes, and continued, The story I am about to tell you is very important, and it is equally important that you remember my words, A long, long time ago, and a long way south of here, there lived a tribe of people, a very special tribe. These people were special, very special. It was said that they could almost perform miracles. Katrillion looked at her grandmother and replied, Yes, I know of these stories grandmother. I have heard them from my mother. Ulsen looked at Katrillion and wondered if the sweet innocent of believing it was only a story was about to be shattered. She continued again, What if I was to tell you that they were not just stories? What if I was to tell you that the people of the south really did exist? Katrillion looked amused for a moment and replied, I would have to say, she paused, almost toying with her grandmother, There is no proof that we can find that they ever existed. If there ever was people of that kind living the south, they are now long gone. What does that have to do with us? Ulsen looked at her granddaughter, knowing that the next piece of information she was about to give would change everything forever. She started, My dear Katrillion, today, at the market, I heard something that has forced me into a decision I have been putting off making for a long time. There was stories of even more children going missing, some older ones too and all from the villages between south of Alephin, northwards up to here. Someone is systematically searching for the secrets of the Southern People. Who? I dont know. I do know that this someone has come from somewhere beyond our lands, but is now living somewhere over in the west. This darkness is starting to get closer, too close, and I fear for you Katrillion, for you did not know till now, that you are a true descendant of the Southern People, as I am, and your mother.

Katrillion sat up straight, looking at her grandmother. But, dear grandmother, the Southern People are only a legend, they are but a story. I only wish that were so, replied Ulsen, But, I speak the truth. For many years now, I have tried to protect my female offspring by keeping the truth of our heritage a secret, as a necessity. You have heard the rumours? If someone decided to explore and exploit these stories, well, you know what could happen? Unfortunately, a darkness is spreading upon us from the west. Someone wants to know the old secrets of the Southern People, and will stop at nothing to get them, something they must not be allowed to do. But, Grandmother, Katrillion interjected, These secrets are just tales and stories, they dont even exist! This, my dear, is where you are wrong, said Ulsen. The Southern People exist, and they have kept the secrets too for over a thousand years. Unfortunately, the darkness will come looking for all of us, including naive you, and soon I think it is time you were given your real identity and heritage, and allow you to become what you are destined to be.

Chapter Seven
Ulsen had planned everything in detail. Katrillion had her hair blackened using soot and charcoal, something she didnt like as it meant her hair would be permanently dirty. Ulsen had made sure that friends took over her farm as if it were their own, so as not to create a population gap, or raise suspicions should anyone come looking. These dark people would have spies about, and they would latch on to a deserted but recently used farmstead, and they would dig a little deeper to find out more, at any cost. The only things Ulsen and Katrillion were taking with them would be personal belongings, and two horses, Katrillion taking a sword and a knife, to help in the killing and preparing of any game caught on their way south, the rest made up of a couple of items of useful clothing, water bags filled to the brim, food that would last the journey, and warm overcoats and cloaks. From Lassabek to the end of the valley would take them about two hours travel in the dark, and from there they could make it to the foot of the Alephin valley, travelling at night so as to avoid detection. Katrillion wanted so much to go to Alephin and see the friendly faces once more, but Ulsen advised against it. The spies were already in Alephin, and these dark agents must have raided their old farm at some time. Best stay away. As daylight broke, they hid the horses well away from the track, in the thick of the woods, and slept up in the thicker branches of the trees. They had to avoid being caught vulnerable, on the ground, and, although it was uncomfortable up there, it was safe. Over the course of the day between sleeping, from their higher vantage point, they saw only a few people passing by going north towards the Alephin valley,

merchants mostly, with their empty carts, heading to see what they could fleece out of the simple peoples in the markets. It appeared as though they had come over from the west side of the marshes on the only known track way through them, a route they had used for many a year, successfully, but had no doubt revealed it to these dark people or their representatives. This would account for the spate of kidnappings with ease on this eastern side of the marshes. Both Ulsen and Katrillion knew that they would not be safe until they were well south of this east/west junction across the Mid Marshes. Once into the marshes in the south, where there were no paths or track ways they could travel by day, and rest by night. Later that day, they saddled the horses again, and rode on, keeping themselves inside of the tree line, following a course parallel to the track southwards until night fell. There were many wild animals about in the woods at night, and Katrillion kept her hand on the handle of her sword for most of the journey. Once dark, they broke cover and travelled, silently along the track, ever southward. Ulsen suddenly stopped and raised her hand, listening intently. Katrillion stopped too, and listened. In front of them, to the south, they could hear the sound of many horses, almost at a gallop, coming towards them. They rode into the tree line to hide, turned, and watched. About twenty riders formed this pack, riding at speed towards the foot of the three valleys. There was urgency in their pace, their horses sweat glistening in the pale moonlight, foam coming from their mouths where the bit exited the mouths. These riders had come a long way, and were not going to ease the pace till they got to where they were going. Ulsen said they were riding as if they were being chased by the devil. Or ordered by him. They waited till the sound of the hooves had gone, and everything went quiet before venturing out from their cover to resume their journey. Keeping the horses at walking pace might make the journey a lot longer to do, but its a lot safer. At dawn, they did exactly the same as the day before, though this time, they would only rest till midday or so. They had passed the east/west track over two hours before they stopped to rest, under cover of darkness, and as all that lay ahead of them in the south were hostile marshes; it was unlikely anyone would venture this far south. Katrillion set a snare, and caught a rabbit. This was skinned, and roasted on a spit over a small fire after they had slept, making sure that the smoke and the smell were blown southeast, away from the last section of the track before the marshes. The fresh meat was a welcome change to the dried meats and cheeses eaten on the journey so far. While they ate, Katrillion asked a question. Dear grandmother, where exactly are we going, and when will we arrive? We are going to a town known as Haneera, well inside the boundaries of the southern marshes, and there we will hide and rest. But, grandmother, I have never heard of this town, are you sure it is really there? Ulsen looked at Katrillion with a glint in her eyes, and replied,

Yes my dear, no one has heard of it because its existence is a well kept secret, but it is there. I know it is, for I was there myself around the time Marally went missing. The fire put out and disguised, the horses loaded and ready, the two travellers set off along a narrowing track, ending up in single file by the time they reached the marshes themselves. From this point they would have to walk the horses, as their weight would not only make the horse sink in deeper, and they would leave deeper footprints that would last for longer in the bog, prints that a good tracker could follow. Ulsen then did something strange. She started to lead her horse to the east.

Chapter Eight
The torturer turned to look at his latest client. He always referred to them as clients, and gazed at her, longingly, but professionally. She was very beautiful, or had been prior to his handiwork, standing about five feet eight inches tall, slim build for a sixteen year old, blond hair, and naked as the day she was born, except for the wispy remnants of pubic hair he had left after ripping out chunks of it earlier in the day. She was tightly strapped to the rack, though it was not stretching her yet. He had other plans before that, other procedures to follow first. Procedures tried and tested to give the maximum pain possible. Lord Gryanth had instructed him to use any means possible to extract the information his master wanted, and that was exactly what he was going to do. He wound the small screw thread that brought the small jaws of the clamp together slowly, placing it onto the lower part of her slightly protruding clitoris, and began tightening it turn-by-turn, asking question-by-question. She screamed and screamed, a sound he had come to enjoy in his line of work. He knew how well he was doing by the screams his clients made. She had screamed loudly when he had used small pressure clamps on her nipples until they were completely flat, and she had screamed when he had forced the sides of her vagina open with a device similar to a huge shoe stretcher till the skin split at top and bottom and bled. It never failed to amuse him how far that could stretch to allow a babys head to pass through. This piece of equipment, when extended was considerably bigger than a baby. This kind or irreparable damage did not worry him, that this vulva would never feel the love of a man, or anything else for that matter. He was out to get results, and that was what he was going to get. He wound his little screw a little tighter, and listened to another scream, choked only from the damage done to the vocal chords by the screaming, and demanded. Tell me! What is the secret of the Southern People? How does it work?

How do I get to the south lands? Who else is one of you? These questions were repeated and repeated, as the torture had continued about his work, and always the client replied that they did not know. The torturer believed some of them, as he knew from experience at what point the human body could take no more, but his Lord and master had instructed him to get the answers to these questions, or kill them in the process, something he had done to a few young girls already, and according to the cells of the castle, a good few more still to go. It seemed a shame that such beauty should go to waste, as the guards could have had their wicked way with them, raping them anally as well as vaginally into submission, more or less using them as sex objects, but Gryanth had forbidden it. They were to be tortured, one by one, to death if need be, and so far every one of them had died from these procedures, till he got the information he wanted from them. No distractions, as the guards may take pity on them, or keep them to use again. The torturer returned to the task at hand, turning the screw a little more. The girl screamed, and the small head of the clitoris protruding from between the two flat jaws of the clamp swelled another millimetre. He would carry on turning the screw till it burst, bleeding profusely, and every nerve ending in that sensitive area screaming in pain. After working on the sensitive sex organs, if they still hadnt given him the information, he would then proceed to dislocate their joints, all of them, starting with the elbows, bending them backwards, and then the shoulders with the help of his trusty rack. The wrists would be shattered, metacarpal-by-metacarpal, and the fingers dislocated and broken, one by one, the nails pulled out of their nail beds in a twisting motion so as to rip the cuticles too. The legs would receive the same level of work, hips, knees, metatarsals and then toes together with their nails. If they were really stubborn, and up to now they all had been, he would remove the teeth, one by one. Most of his clients had expired from shock or loss of blood before he got to the teeth, but he always said that his job was to torture people, and he insisted that he did it with dignity, and respect for the client. His current client bled out from the torn uterus, before he got to the breaking of the bones. The body was untied and taken away; the guards couldnt abuse her even in death, as there was little of her female anatomy left. In true professional style, the torturer cleaned all of his tools thoroughly ready for his next client, boiling the metal ones to get them clean in a huge black pot. He still had no answers for his master, and he hoped his masters patience with him would last a while longer. He would keep working.

Chapter Nine
Ulsen and Katrillion were making good time on their travels, and were now inside the rings of mists that rose from the dark, deep waters of the marshes, giving the whole place an eerie, ghostly appearance. They had travelled

eastwards for over an hour before turning south, the soft earth that almost squelched underfoot as you started to enter the Southern Marshes, pausing and listening every few minutes, checking that they were not been followed. All they could hear was the sounds of water running, trickling around the clumps of protruding land on which they were standing. Ulsen had explained that the track road they had used coming down on horseback from Alephin, if followed into the marshes would lead to a dead end, and going straight ahead from where the marshes began would have taken the traveller into some of the softest, and most dangerous parts of the marsh. Many people wishing to cross the marshes thought that that was the way in, but they found out, to their peril, it is not. The bones are still there to prove it. The going underfoot was starting to get soft for the horses, though not impossible for them to walk, the sphagnum moss allowing some solid feel underfoot, even if it was very slippery. After a couple of hours, they paused to rest awhile beside a stunted and dead looking small tree. They tied up the horses, giving them hay and water, and sat, taking in a little food and water themselves. Ulsen took this opportunity to explain a little more of what was going on, When we left our house, to make our journey to here, at the same time, friends of ours were setting out from the local villages, scattering themselves across the whole of Deaton, searching out any more blue eyed, blond haired females. They had to find them before the dark people did. Already, some of the soldiers of the dark people had been seen around the villages, caught, and killed Once these children are found, they are to blacken their blond hair with charcoal or soot, as I did with you, so as not to attract attention of soldiers or spies, and then take them, one by one if necessary to a secret location, where people from Haneera would meet up with them, take the child or children, and lead them to the safety found here in the Southern Marshes. At all times, they must watch for spies or infiltrators till we can leave Haneera and get back up to the valleys to collect them. Katrillion looked at her grandmother, By we, do you mean I will go also? No, my dear, I will go with the others of the elders. You will remain, safe in the marshes till I return. Will I ever leave the marshes? asked Katrillion, Will I ever be free again? Of course you will my child! Ulsen said with a smile, Once you have been fully trained to look after yourself, and know how to navigate the marshes, you merely blacken your hair, and keep your eyes down from view, as if you were shy. Enough chat for now. If we are to make the safety of the village before nightfall, we must get a move on. They stood; both of them wet from the dampness of the ground, and untied the horses from this one small tree. Katrillion gathered up the water dishes, and uneaten hay used for the horses, and packed them into the bags on the sides of their mounts. Ulsen still did not move at first, but listened intently for any sound, however small before they moved off. Their conversation could have easily attracted eavesdroppers, who would then try to follow them in. The mists rising from the ground seemed to get thicker the further they travelled, making it almost impossible to see where they were going, but Ulsen

knew the way. A left turn here, a right turn here, a double back on yourself here, and the occasional little step over a tiny stream. The horses seemed calm, but as Ulsen said, they have travelled this route many times already. The route was anything but a straight line. It would go for no more than a hundred yards before it would go off at a tangent to another raised grass covered protrusion, then onto another, and another. Katrillion could see now why this place had remained a secret for so long. Even if someone got through, the chances were they would never be able to find their way out again. The heat that was causing the mists to form over the marshes also created an atmosphere of very high humidity, which made the body sweat profusely, and dehydration killed more unprepared travellers than them sinking into the bogs. The progress was getting harder and harder to make, the ground seemed to be getting really soft, with their feet sinking into above their ankles, and even the horses were starting to object too, snorting at each other as if in a joint complaint. Suddenly, Ulsen stopped, and held up her hand. Katrillion also stopped and stood silently, listening for the sound her grandmother must have heard. It seemed silent, except for natural noises around them. Do you hear that slight hissing? asked Ulsen to Katrillion in a hushed whisper. Yes, I can now, replied Katrillion, But only since you have mentioned it. That is the sound of the spring, where the pure clean waters of the marsh break the surface for a while before going back below the peat again. This sound tells me we are very close to our destination. Katrillion looked ahead, but could see nothing clearly because of the mists, only a few of those stunted trees that grew throughout parts of these marshes. As they walked a little more, there was something about these trees that did not seem right, but Ulsen carried on walking. She must have been able to see these strange looking trees, but she ignored them. Ulsen knew, as Katrillion was about to find out that they were not trees. In the next hundred yards, the two of them stood face to face with two huge blond haired, blue-eyed men, heavily armed. Katrillion put her hand to her sword, but Ulsen placed her hand on her arm and held it there. She turned and said something Katrillion could not understand to these men, and they smiled. They had arrived.

Chapter Ten
Lord Gryanth sat at the head of the table, looking down at his minions, his army captains, his dragoons commanders, and all of his knights still loyal to him. This little battle of his to collect information was not going his way, and definitely not going according to plan. His plan of course. He gazed at them all seated around the huge table, all of them looking at him with puppy dog eyes, trying to please their master, though he knew this lot would sell their own mother to survive another day in his service. Sitting at the head of the table with him was his favourite employee, the torturer, who, Gryanth believed had really being doing his best. It seems that

despite his best efforts, these blond haired, blue-eyed girls had a greater resistance to pain than a normal girl, perhaps that was a part of the power they were supposed to hold, the power he so wanted for himself. He was going to find out no matter what. He had seen the work of the torturer first hand, and admired his attention to detail when it came to inflicting pain, a talent Gryanth was not finished using. The pile of bodies that had lain, rotting, outside of the dungeons was starting to stink, so the lord had ordered them burned and then the ashes mixed together and scattered, just in case they had the power to return somehow, possibly as something else. His guards were starting to talk amongst themselves too as to the murders that they were witnessing now almost daily, but they dare not speak against Gryanth, for that would be suicide, and it could be them on the table in the cellars. Gryanth stood up from his chair, the whole room instantly rising with him. He motioned them to sit, smiling smugly that they still followed him blindly, and he began to slowly pace around the table. As he did so, he spoke, My captains, my commanders, and my knights, he began, all eyes of the assembly on him, all ears listening, We are at war! I have tried to learn, for our benefit, the secrets of the blue-eyed people so I can use it to protect our nation from its enemies The whole crowd nodded to each other. However, the gathering of the information is not going well for us. Therefore we need to change our tactics a little, and show these serfs who their lord and master is at the same time. To do so requires a few changes in our method of operations. As you all know, I ordered some of you as secret soldiers, spies even, to enter the villages over in the eastern side of Deaton, locate and bring back to me any female child, blond of hair and blue eyes, regardless of age. You were told to do this discreetly, and use unwitnessed snatch methods, and either kill or bring back anyone who did witness the kidnappings to be disposed of here. That way there would be no bodies for the people to find It appears now that the masses, these farmers, these serfs, this earth scum have rumbled us, and have realised what is going on, and have started to retaliate, by hiding the blue eyed ones, and killing our soldiers. This is an outright act of war, and it shall be responded to accordingly! I want to bring together a full army, train it, and then to ride to the Eastern lands, killing off any resistance you encounter, and then demoralise them as a conquering army would do. Rape, pillage, steal, it does not matter what you do. What matters is that you break their spirit. With their spirit broken, I can use my methods to continue to seek the secrets I require to save our nation. This time, it need not be blond haired, or blue eyed. Just bring to my torturer anyone who resists your actions, as I have found it is these resistance people who are organised and who know the most, and fear the least. A danger to our cause, Gryanth sat, as if waiting for applause or adulation. He knew there would be no questions. He looked at his army leaders, and saw fire in their eyes, and loyalty in their hearts. Now go!

Chapter Eleven
Katrillion woke, lying on a soft feather bed, the sunlight, streaming through the windows over to her right. She could hear sounds, familiar sounds, like the striking of an anvil by a blacksmith, perhaps shoeing a horse, the wheels of numerous carts going to and fro, and of course voices, calm, jolly voices, though she could not understand what was being said. The evening before, she and Ulsen had met with the perimeter guards of the small town of Haneera, and were guided from the marshes onto a small plateau on which the town stood, about six feet above the water levels of the marshes. They had been ushered into the stables to see to their horses, and Ulsen told her to remain there, feeding and grooming them till she came back, in a short while. Katrillion felt no fear of her new surroundings, only a little apprehension at being left alone in a strange place, and, being an obedient girl, she did exactly what her grandmother had said. She removed the saddles, though she had no idea where to put them, and the same with the protective blankets, which were by now soaking wet from the horses sweating in the high humidity, so she hung them over the stall rails for now. No doubt someone would tell her. The lamps had already been lit inside the stable, and there were small cot beds at one end of the block. She mused that that could be where they would spend the night. As she was completing the brushing down of the second horse, she heard someone enter the stable from behind her and call her name. She knew it wasnt Ulsen; this voice was different, deeper. She placed her hand onto the grip of her sword, and turned slowly around, ready to draw it from the scabbard in an instant. In front of her was a young man, more or less just out of boyhood himself, standing there, amusement in his eyes at her gripping her sword, and a large grin on his face. She stood her ground, looking at this young man before her. He was about the same age, the same height, and the same build as her, so she could probably be able to defend herself against him if she needed to. She waited. He spoke, My name is Davian, and I have been told to come and collect you, and take you to the Council of Elders where your grandmother Ulsen awaits you, and I would prefer it if we both got there in one piece, he flicked his eyes in the direction of her hand on the sword, still grinning. She still stared at him, but relaxed her grip on her sword. She could see he was not wearing a weapon, and she knew she could take him down, but she still remained wary, as of late, she had found it hard to accept strangers. She put down the brush, and walked towards this person, this Davian, this clown with the silly face, and he turned to exit through the door. If he were an enemy, he would not have turned his back on her. She followed. It was dark outside, and torches lit the way, attached to the walls of the buildings either side of the roads, which were arranged in streets. It was unlike

her village, or even that of Lassabek where the houses were placed where the land to put them on was available, the little roadways meandering between them where the ground was the most level or hard. Here the streets were flat and straight, with the houses built to match the roads. The floors of the roads were smoother than cobbles but still made of stone, similar to large slabs. She followed this young man, almost in silence till they arrived at a large open area, which she learned later was known as the Town Square. Here was a hive of activity, street entertainers, inns serving ale and food, a fire eater working his trade over to one side, and people with market stalls calling out to the passers by to come buy from them. Strange music filled the air. Davian saw the look of puzzlement on her face, Its our Carnival Week. You have arrived on the first night. The people here like to enjoy themselves, as most people do. Look there, my favourite, the Hog Roast! He pointed over to a stall where the remains of a huge spit roasted pig was being sliced and shared among the people, their faces showing appreciation of the taste of the fresh pork. When you settle in, it would be my pleasure, if you would grant me the honour, to personally show you all of the festivities we have over the week to come. Katrillion said nothing. She had heard stories of these young men who try to place themselves at the front of the queue for their womanly affections. Who knows, we might even become friends, he said, as a sort of throwaway comment. This time Katrillion looked at him, glaring straight into his eyes and said, I need no friends at the moment, and as to having a friend who is a boy, I would rather kick a boy than kiss one! Thats him told, she thought. You may get your chance, he replied, And sooner than you think. She was a little puzzled by that remark, and she found his cheekiness amusing, but before she could ask anything else, they were at the large wooden doors, behind which sat the Council. He pushed one of them open and bade her to enter. Are you not coming in too, she asked him as he stepped away. No, not tonight. Tonight is for you and your grandmother. We will meet again tomorrow though, and at this he walked off into the darkness. What a strange boy? she thought as she entered the Great Hall of the Council Chamber. Tonight was going to be something different, something new. She could feel it.

Chapter Twelve
The Council were sitting in a semicircle facing towards the door she had just entered through. Her grandmother was at the door to meet her, Come my child, into the centre where these fine people can see you, and led her to the large red circle painted on the floor of the chamber. The whole building was circular, timber framed, and very ornately carved. Metal shields and plaques adorned the walls together with many flags and banners of many bright colours. Katrillion had never seen craftsmanship as good

as this. Every chair occupied by one of these councillors had been hand carved, each with a different circular design in the headrest. The floor was a highly polished series of interlocking boards, made from what looked like oak, the light from the many torches reflecting off the wood and over the faces of the people sitting around the room. Do not be afraid, my child, said her grandmother as they approached and then stood on this red circle, They are our friends. As Katrillion raised her head, and looked around at the people seated, she heard a gasp from them. She decided to stand proud, as her mother and father had taught her to do. One of the councillors spoke to Ulsen in this strange language, and Ulsen replied, Until Katrillion learns the words of the Blue Eye, I must request we speak in her language as a mark of respect. The murmur swept around the table, and back to the centre in a couple of seconds. You are right, as always our friend Ulsen, so we will use the tongue of the Deaton Folk for now. So, this is Katrillion? Ulsen looked at the person speaking, the Chairman, and replied, Yes, this is the child Katrillion, of Walgard and Sisilend, from the village of Alephin The Chairman nodded, and spoke to Katrillion, Is this the truth that Ulsen speaks? You are of Walgard and Sisilend, from Alephin? Katrillion cleared her throat and said, bluntly, Yes, I am from Alephin, and my parents are Walgard and Sisilend, and I am proud of it! The Chairman smiled at this strong outburst, and replied, And so you should be. Walgard and Sisilend are fine people, and good friends to us, as I hope you will be too. He continued, Would you come a little closer to me for a moment, so I may see your face properly in this poor light? Katrillion did as she was told, and took a couple of paces forward then stopped, staring straight ahead almost defiantly. You share the beauty of your mother, the chairman commented, And, you have the eyes that your grandmother said you had. Real bright blue, in fact they are power blue. I can feel the power in you now from where you stand. Ulsen and Katrillion left the council chambers to let them talk over whatever they had to decide, and the two of them walked, together with a two-man escort provided, to one of the inns, where they would spend the night, and sort out something more permanent tomorrow. The inn served good food, and they were famished from their travel, and then the meeting. They sat at a table in an alcove, away from the general room where the Carnival revellers were partying, and set about eating a feast size meal provided, while their room was being prepared. Their conversation started with this strange boy that met Katrillion, and she was quite surprised that Ulsen knew him and indeed she knew his whole family. She then told her grandmother about his ridiculous suggestion that he should show her the Carnival, and try to befriend her. To her surprise, Ulsen said that would be a good idea, for Davian was going to be studying the same course of combat that she was, and it would help as they could practice together as a pair.

There was something else that Ulsen wanted to tell Katrillion, and now seemed the right time, Katrillion, you know how I have brought you here for your own safety, or so I said, she looked at her, and watched her nod, Well, that is not the only reason I have brought you here, Now Katrillions interest was aroused, and she started to take more notice of the words of her grandmother, putting the thoughts of being shown around by some young man to one side for the moment. Here in Haneera, there is a kind of mysterious power, which is given only to the blond haired and blue eyed people who live in this area, and only those who have been taught how to summon it, and to control it. It is not given by us as a council, or by the people of Haneera, we do not know who gives it or to whom it will be given, only that it exists, and it gives itself freely to any who deserve it. This power is much sort after, and only a very few chosen ones ever get to feel its presence, let alone use it. I brought you before the Council for them to meet you and decide whether you are of the right stock to be trained in searching for this power, and perhaps finding out what it is, and also what it does. Not only are you from the right stock, but you possess the lightness of the hair, and the blueness of the eyes that could potentially make you almost a priestess of the power they are so pure in colour. I could not tell you this until the Council had seen you and confirmed my thoughts. However my child, we know that there is a power, and it has been around for centuries, and we know that while you remain here, it will in some way or another, attach itself to you, hence the training you will undergo, but, we do not know what this power can do or what it is for, so we must be careful. Some of the girls over many years that have gone before, after training and learning to channel some of the power, have been able to use only a tiny fraction of it. They have moved objects using only their minds, but only very light objects, and only short distances. The blue swirls that are expected to appear from thin air have not yet appeared, as it must do according to the legend In reality, we have no idea what this power is, or what it can do. It is over a thousand years since the Power Of The Marshes was unleashed, back when darkness had fallen upon the land, but the writings of it, which have been studied in great detail, remain unclear. We have no idea who unleashed it, or why, just that it was, and then it was written into legend. My dear Katrillion, there is once again darkness in our land, and for the sake of the people of these lands, we must try to find the trigger and if necessary, be able to unleash this Power once more to save the people. I know it is a great deal to ask of you my sweet and loyal grand daughter, but I beg that you learn well the teachings. It may not be easy, but do not worry, if it doesnt work with you, we have at least tried. Katrillion had a lot to think about before she could get to sleep.

Chapter Thirteen

Katrillion was having her breakfast when her grandmother returned from her meeting at the Council. She joined her at the table. I am to leave later today with some of the other elder people, and return to the valleys. We are bringing the blue eyed girls from the Eastern Deaton region back with us though we will arrive here one at a time, using different routes. I ask you Katrillion, to be polite, and not to cause any trouble while I am away. I should be no longer than five days, and while Im away, I suggest you take young Davian up on his offer to show you the Carnival till I return. Katrillion looked at her grandmother almost in horror at the suggestion, but that is what she will do, under protest, till her grandmother returns. For the remainder of the day, Ulsen spent her time showing Katrillion around, and introducing her to her many friends in the town. By now, Katrillion had washed the darkening powder from her hair, and it had resumed its almost pure blond colour, and among these people she felt quite at home as they all had the blond hair, though in varying degrees of blond. Here, she was not the exception. They spent time at the markets, and at the social gatherings, watching the tug of war, and the archery competitions, and generally enjoying each others company. Only too soon it was time for Ulsen, and the others to leave, as they had to traverse the marshes at night, and split up at the other side before they were detected. Katrillion was sad to think that she was leaving, but knew deep down that it was necessary. As Ulsen was about to leave the inn, she called to Katrillion, Katrillion, there is someone here to see you, and try not to kill him before I get back! Standing there, with that huge grin on his face, was Davian. He bowed to Ulsen as she left, and turned to Katrillion. I have been charged with the duty of looking after you, and to assist you in any way I can, and between you and me, this is the best duty I have ever been given! Katrillion looked at him, and shook her head. If someone had to look after her, and assist her, there was perhaps no better person for the job than Davian, but she was not going to tell him that. His cheek could still earn him a hefty slap on the ears though. The people of Haneera gathered to see their elder folk assemble in the Town Square, ready to set out over the marshes then up to the valleys. They knew they had to be careful, those who were not totally grey haired, were made to be, so there was no trace of blond, even made to be grey on black. They carried with them marks of blindness, infirmity, and beggar quality, so they could pass unnoticed, or be thrown out of places where there was any trouble. A blind beggar might get his money cup kicked over by soldiers, and he might be roughed up a bit, but they were never arrested. The role of old crones was another useful one, even offering to tell the fortunes of the soldiers for a coin usually got them chased out of sight. People feared the elderly women. They thought they were all witches. The elder folk set off, in a convoy, across the marshes. There was no parade, no celebrations, no marching to glory. Silence, as the last of the rescuers vanished into the mists that surrounded the town. In that team were mothers and fathers,

grand mothers and grandfathers of people living here, and there was no guarantee they would return. The silence seemed to last for hours. The people then started to make their way back to do whatever they were supposed to be doing, and Katrillion stood, in the emptying Town Square, watching as these Haneerans went about their daily lives. Soon, after nightfall, the Carnival stalls would occupy the Square, and the party would begin its second day. Davian suddenly appeared at her side, standing as she was, in silence. Katrillion looked at him with tears in her eyes, tears she had tried to fight back. She did not want to appear weak, or vulnerable. She suddenly realised there were tears in his eyes also, something he also tried to quickly hide from her. Too late, she had seen them. She spoke, I did not know you had a relative going out with the elders tonight I have not, he replied Then why are you upset? Me? Upset! No. Whatever gave you that idea? Katrillion gently took her finger and rubbed it along the bottom of Davians eyes, showing him the moisture on her fingertip. I must have something in my eye, he said briskly. I think not, said Katrillion, And if we are to be together for the next few days, then we should at least speak the truth to each other. Davian pointed to a stone seat in one of the corners of the Square, and said, Lets sit and talk.

Chapter Fourteen
They sat together beside a low wall over in a quiet corner of the Town Square, well away from the prying ears of anyone passing. As they sat, Davian appeared to be uncomfortable sitting there with Katrillion. Are you afraid to sit with me? she asked; thinking perhaps his cheek could be a cover for a frightened, shy person beneath. I am not! he replied indignantly, still shuffling about as he sat, I am thinking of whether I should tell you or not? Tell me what? she asked, looking at the ground this time so as not to spook him any further. About why I got upset when the scouting party left. Oh, that, she said, Id stopped thinking about that Then you said that if we are to be together for the next week, I should tell the truth She nodded. Then I must tell you about me, he said, And why Im here, alone About five years ago, I was brought here with my parents, both blond and both blue eyed, though, as you can see, both my hair and my eyes are brown. They were fleeing a tyrant in a land many, many miles to the west, over on the other side of the massive mountains that borders Roxa and the town of Picalda. My father had found a passage, a path more or less, that traversed these jaggered peaks, and then detoured through the Western Marshes, ending at the

town of Picalda, though the journey was many days of dangerous and sometimes exposed travel, the weather at those heights being very unpredictable, and at times lethal, as were the marshes. We stayed in Picalda for a while, my parents going off from time to time, back through to our homeland, to try to save as many of our friends as they could, and they were successful for quite a while He changed his seating position, as he seemed to be more relaxed now, and continued, They stopped when it became too dangerous to return home, so we began our life in exile, here in West Deaton All was well, until word reached us that the tyrant, a man known as Lord Gryanth, had found the route into Deaton over the mountains, and through the West Marshes, and he was mustering an army to conquer West Deaton, in particular, Picalda, as he had his eye on the gold mines up in Roxa nearby. My parents with me, together with our friends and families fled to the safety of the Southern Marshes, and were taken in by our cousins the Haneerans. Our tribe for want of a better word, were told that there was an old link through the Southern Marshes travelling west, through the southern tip of the Western Marshes, and coming out in our homeland, entering at the southernmost point. From there, we could enter and exit our homeland to rescue more members of our group. We did this, quite successfully for a while, till one of our scouts was caught, and under torture revealed that there was a town in the Southern Marshes of Deaton, where a magical power existed, occupied by blond haired, blue eyed people. When the last scouting party returned, we had to destroy this Western Marsh pathway completely, cutting us off from our people permanently. As time went on, information came to us that this Lord Gryanth was now in a castle, on the hilltop outside of Picalda, moving his operations to Deaton, seeking to gain this magic power of the blue eyes. This meant that the Western Marshes pathway would now be unguarded, or thinly patrolled, so, if rebuilt, we could help our families once again. My parents were among the first to revisit our homeland. They never returned. After a few weeks, the temporary repair to the path was totally destroyed, in case they revealed where it was under duress. I have never seen or heard of them since. He stopped his story, his voice choking up, and tears welling up in his eyes, he sniffled, and cleared his throat, and continued, That is why I was upset when the scouting party left. I remembered my parents leaving, and never coming back. They both sat together, in silence, looking at the ground, both thinking of things in their own worlds.

Chapter Fifteen
Andrean stared at this soldier, this piece of filth that stood panting for breath in front of her, at the other side of the bar. This armour-plated devil wasnt

getting her into any corners or dark places; shed heard the stories. She remained behind the serving bar inside of the inn, where she felt the safest. The place was full of soldiers, scum the whole lot of them, swilling down the ale, and eating the food, and not giving so much as a coin to pay for it. They cussed and swore at anything and everything, beating up any defenceless beggar or tramp sitting against the walls of the buildings in the village centre, having spent the day setting fire to the hay lofts, trashing crops and terrorising the people of Alephin, ruling by fear. The Captain of this bunch of faeces, stood up from his table, drunk as expected, and swayed from side to side as he addressed his men, Now my men, we have done well today, so its time for the real entertainment, and looked slowly about the bar room. He spotted Andrean standing behind the counter, and said, And for one night only, we shall have this one, pointing to her. Before she could move, soldiers blocked her exit from both ends of the bar, and moved in to trap her in the middle. She scrambled to try to jump over the counter, but she was not tall enough to haul herself onto the top of the counter before the soldiers grabbed her, forcibly carrying her, kicking and screaming, towards the centre of the room, and laid her on her back on the table. Ropes that were passed under the table, crossing over to make it impossible to move, and to keep her arms and legs apart, bound her hands and feet. The Captain slowly walked across to the table, and looked down at his prize for this evening, this time a full-bodied woman, not one of these skinny little runts that seemed to infest this backwater of a place. No, this was a definitely a real woman, her chest heaving up and down, and her eyes blazing. He was about to enjoy the challenge of her. The fire in her eyes made him even more determined to have her as he saw fit. He did not know that the fire was from fear and hatred, not that of desire. He drew his sword, and slid it slowly under the laced up tie strings that held the bodice sides together, cutting them with one small flick of the blade. His troops formed a circle to watch this spectacle. The locals took this opportunity to sneak out of the bar, they could do nothing to help, and ran for their lives. Andrean started to scream; so one of the soldiers put a ball gag in her mouth, covered it with thin leather straps, tightening it so tight that it started to split the edges of the top and bottom lip. The Captain could now kiss her without fear of been bitten or spat at, should he so desire. Her bodice fell away, leaving a slip of an undergarment, which went to her waist. In a dramatic gesture, the Captain cut a small slot in the first couple of inches of it from the bottom with the sword, and then grabbed the edges, one in each hand, and to a rousing cheer from his men, tore the material slowly in half, revealing her ample, full bosoms. The men now roared with approval. He slowly bent over her and kissed each nipple very gently, and even though she was terrified, they started to become erect, betraying her body. He looked at them for a short while, with an almost longing look and then, placing his mouth over the erect nipple, he bit down hard. She screamed, but it could not be heard over the laughter of the troops. Blood oozed from the teeth marks around the areole. He did the same to the other, causing her to scream even more, before he moved his attention downwards,

ripping off the cummerbund belt, throwing it over his shoulder, out of his way, making it look like he was performing some play or another. He then sliced the plaid skirt into half, with his sword. By cutting the clothes from her like this, she would not need to be lifted from the table to remove any of her garments. He did the same with the gathering of underskirts, slicing them, and peeling them back like a banana, ripping the material to pieces. She was still struggling as hard as she could against the bonds, but the soldiers had done this so many times before, they had the application of the restraints down to perfection. The harder she pulled, the tighter they became. The leg length socks were cut from her, and her shoes pulled off and thrown to one side. Only one last piece of undergarment remained, covering her womanhood from prying eyes, though wisps of black pubic hair protruded from the sides of the open leg holes of these shorts. The atmosphere in the room was rapidly becoming electric with excitement. The Captain waited till he had the full attention of his men before he played out the last act of his performance before claiming his prize. He nicked the waistband of the garment with his sword, bent over, and grabbed the material in his teeth, pulling it up and away sharply. His nose passed over the pubic hair, catching a whiff of womans urine and the attractive smell of new mown hay. Yes, she was ready. Still playing to the gallery, he stepped back from the table, and started to disrobe, his soldiers assisting him, as if they were his dressers, till he himself stood there, naked and proud. He outstretched his hands and arms, with his palms upward and bowed slightly, as if waiting for applause. The place erupted. He walked to the end of the table and slowly climbed onto the edge, in a kneeling position, careful not to get any wood spelks in his knees, and taking his member in his right hand; it was already starting to become erect, supported himself over her lower body with his left hand, he rubbed the sensitive end of it up and down her vaginal slot to stimulate lubrication. Fight as she may, her body would once again betray her, and within moments her female ejaculate was showing on the outer edges of the vulva. He entered her brutally, forcing his now solidly erect penis into her not fully dilated vagina, tearing the walls of it internally, and inducing bleeding as well as pain. She screamed. No one heard over the cheers. For the next hour and a half, every soldier in the inn had her, the younger ones more than once, in some way or another, even entering anally. Every orifice in her body, her mouth, her navel, even her ears, was either covered with or full of sperm, as these brutal soldiers relentlessly tore into her body or masturbated onto her for fun. About one hundred troops were in that inn that night, and all of them used her in some way or another. By the time many gallons of alcohol had been consumed, free of course, the drunk and now incapable of performing sex soldiers left the room, arm in arm, singing and laughing, Andrean had passed out some time ago, still strapped to the table. Within a couple of minutes of the last soldier leaving, two women appeared at the door, checked the room was empty, and crossed to the table. They released the ropes that bound her, then covered her over with a couple of sheets, and then when her decency was restored, four men entered the room with a flat board

stretcher, lifted her onto it and carried her outside, as far away from this place as they could go, to a small house high up on the hillside. Andrean never recovered from that night. She has never uttered a word to anyone since, her tortured mind reacting by blocking out the nightmare she had suffered, which came at a price. She also had to shut out everything else in her life, to free her from the world that had harmed her. She sat, rocking back and forth on a chair near the fire in that little farmhouse, looking at the flickering of the flames all day and night. Every day and every night. She also screamed at the sight of a man, any man.

Chapter Sixteen
Ulsen and her friends had passed through the Southern Marshes, and were now making their way northwards using the cover of the forest that ran parallel with the main track on their way to the valleys. They passed the East/West track junction, which came over the south edge of the Dry Zone, an almost pure desert that stretched from here, right to the mountains in the north, and they had encountered no one. The large patrol she had seen, maybe three hundred troops or so galloping north a week ago as she was coming south with Katrillion, could have been the last to come this way, and no doubt more would follow, so they had to take extreme care. They reached the first of the valley entrances leading up to the hills in the distance, perhaps twenty miles away, this particular valley splitting again in a few miles, turning into the right valley for Alephin, and the left for the village of Kotro. It was here that most of the scouting party peeled off to venture up into these two valleys, and check out the villages and surrounding countryside. Ulsen and the remaining scouts carried straight on northward, into the Lassabek valley, slowly approaching from the south. A meeting place had been arranged, away from the village, by the locals, for them to rest and gather all of the information they could from their people, and to collect any blond haired and blue eyed girls that had been hidden by the locals from the invaders, so they could take them away to safety in Haneera. It had been carefully arranged that if one had been caught, then only one would be affected. As they got close to the designated meeting place, they slowed their progress and began to split up into individuals, one of the men going on ahead disguised as a leper, followed by a woman as an old crone, complete with basket of mushrooms at a safe distance behind. The rest waited, the next two would go in an hour. Within the hour, the man disguised as a leper returned, with three girls, blond and blue eyed, and some very bad news. It appears that we are too late here, as these soldiers, acting on the orders of a Lord Gryanth, some tyrant who has come from over the mountains, they have raked the countryside for the blond and blue eyed girls, collected many of them, kidnapped really and then took them all to Picalda. It appears that this Gryanth has heard of this legendary power that belongs to these blue eyed people, and says he wants to find it, and use it to protect people, or so he says. He has specially trained people brutally torturing these blond

haired prisoners for the information. These three are all that remains of the cousins in the whole Lassabek district, all the rest have gone. Captured, taken. Ulsen was quite saddened by this news. If only they could have organised quicker, they might have been able to save more. She looked at these three young girls, all of which told a similar story. The soldiers were raiding their homes, their parents hiding them somewhere where they wont be found as they were so small, the soldiers then began murdering and raping their parents, any blond older sisters taken, though they being so small were hidden in the barns, stys, wherever they could fit without being seen, and told to wait for someone they knew to come. Ulsen now started to wonder if the other villages and homesteads in the other valleys would tell the same story, but they had no time to check, they had to get these three young frightened girls to Haneera before the soldiers could take them. She volunteered, along with two men, to take these three girls back immediately, and the rest of the scouts elected to remain, spreading themselves out and gathering as much information as they could about what was happening before returning to Haneera. They parted company halfway down the valley, the scouts who were remaining making their way up towards Lassabek, and Ulsen with her team plus their charges heading down the valley to the track, then into the safety of the forest, finally turning south. These girls were very apprehensive, as they had never been away from home before, so Ulsen told them stories of the magical and mystical place they were going to, of safety, and of belonging. They made very good time as they made their way south, and saw no one as they travelled parallel to the main north/south track way on their way to the Southern Marshes, arriving at where the east/west track junctioned, just south of the Dry Zone. As this was possibly the most dangerous and exposed point in the journey for detection, as they could be seen for miles if they were on the track, from any direction, Ulsen paused and asked for silence. At first, they could hear nothing, only the light wind in the trees, rustling the leaves in a hiss, and then, they heard a low pitched, moaning sound being carried towards them on the breeze. It seemed to be coming from the roadside at the end of the east/west track more or less opposite their current hidden position. One of the scout men crouched and moved forward out of the trees and to the edge of the northern track, watching and listening for any sign of danger. He darted across the road, keeping his body as low to the ground as he could, and then disappeared into the ditch alongside the track at the other side. A few moments later, his head appeared over the top, he looked around to make sure the way was still clear of danger, then he crouched his way back across the track and into the forest, carrying something over his shoulder, something big and bulky. He laid it down on the ground in front of Ulsen. It was a very badly beaten man, now almost at deaths door with lack of water. He was no ordinary man though; he was a blond haired, blue-eyed man.

Chapter Seventeen

They arrived back in Haneera in the dead of night, and the girls were whisked away to one of the houses to be cleaned up and then fed before bedding them down for the night. The man however was taken straight to the infirmary to have his wounds treated. They had given him water at the roadside when they had found him, but he was delirious, and babbled quickly and constantly with incoherent mutterings. The two men in the returning party took it in turns to carry him the rest of the way, over their shoulders. Not the most comfortable way to be carried with cracked ribs, but it meant that the party could make quicker progress to Haneera and treatment. Ulsen walked over to the inn, to join Katrillion in their room, thinking of the next day when she would have to pass on all of their findings to the Council, including the viciously cruel information received. It was not going to be easy to tell the story without shedding tears of sadness for the ones who could not be saved. She entered the bedroom, and saw Katrillion, sleeping soundly in her bed, her blond hair reflecting the light from outside and turning it to a pure gold. Ulsen realised why she was doing what she was doing, and why it was all worthwhile. These younger ones deserve a future, and they are going to get one. The next morning, Katrillion was ecstatic to see her grandmother had returned during the night, safely, and in one piece, though she could see that something was troubling her. Why are you so sad grandmother, I thought you would be pleased to have returned safely. Did you find any of our people and bring them back? Oh, Katrillion my child, questions, questions, She smiled at her grand daughter, We found three girls from Lassabek, all younger than you. They are at the Barn house, resting, you know the house, the big one at the end of the street. She did not mention the man. And how is Lassabek? Katrillion still kept firing the questions. I did not make it to the village, said Ulsen, It was too dangerous for us to go that far up the valley. The friends came down the valley to meet us. So you did not see all of your old friends in the village then. Katrillion looked disappointed. No my child, but I have much information for the Council, which I will give them later today. Of more importance, how have you been in my absence, and what have you been doing since I was away? I have done exactly as you said, I spent my time with that boy you said I should, Davian, and I only needed to slap him three times up to now for his cheek, but he is a good person inside. We attended the Carnival, watched the street entertainers who were very good, and over the week we must have eaten most of the Hog Roast between us! Ulsen smiled. She knew Davian would be the right person to keep her mind occupied till her return, and it made her feel a lot better, more relaxed Are you meeting Davian today? she asked,

He is coming for me shortly, and we are going to follow the spring from where it rises out of the ground to where it falls back in again. That will not take long, said Ulsen with a smile, As the spring stream is only a couple of hundred yards long, and not all of that is accessible. She knew this would occupy her charge till she had spoken with the Council. That afternoon, the Council convened, and heard the information from the two men in the returning party, telling about this strange man they had collected on the way back. They could only confirm that he had walked the east/west track from Picalda, or crossed the Dry Zone from further north, travelling from the west. It really did not matter which, as both are usually fatal on foot. They concluded that he must have come from Picalda, walking for three to four days, no water, no food, exposed to the harsh sunshine without shelter, and perhaps another two days at least to get to where he was found. The medicine man entered the chamber and gave his report, telling of the wounds this stranger had received, and that most of them were not natural. He had been able to clean up caked blood from the mans face, then by using a cold compress take down some of the swelling, and water to rehydrate the burned skin, he was able to see the face. He gave his full report, and then left the chamber. As Ulsen was about to enter the chamber to deliver her report, one of the chamber orderlies came rushing out of the door, looked around, and immediately saw Ulsen standing there alone. He approached her and asked, Do you know where your grand daughter Katrillion is? Yes, I do. She is at the spring stream. Is the boy, Davian with her? Yes, he is. At which the orderly took off in the direction of the spring stream without a word of explanation. Ulsen entered the chamber. It was her turn to report. Katrillion stood there looking at the spring water rising from the earth, and was still puzzled as to why the water suddenly appeared at the point it did, for no obvious reason, then disappeared a short distance away, for no obvious reason either. The land here was all the same level, and this would mean the water would have to run uphill, which it cannot. Davian was trying to explain how the water in the marshes was being forced through them by the pressure of the new water coming down the rivers in the valleys, and at the point where the spring was, the main bulk of the water under their feet is being forced downwards. However, because of a small fissure in the rock below, a small amount of the fresh water on the top of the flow is pushed up under pressure to the surface. If all of the underground water came upwards it would make a huge fountain, and would make the land of Haneera uninhabitable. He was just about to explain this to Katrillion for the fourth time when an orderly of the council came running over to them. Davian, I have been sent by the Council to tell you that you are needed, as soon as possible, at the infirmary. You must hurry! The orderly turned, and left, jogging his way back to the chambers. Katrillion looked at Davian, and he looked at her, both a bit confused. Ive never worked in the Infirmary before, or even been there, so why do they want me there now? Katrillion just shrugged her shoulders.

They went together, running all of the way, just in case it was something important. At the door of the Infirmary, a healer was waiting. He put his hands onto Davians shoulders, and smiled, Good news young man, we seem to have found your father!

Chapter Eighteen
Ulsen stood before the Council, and gave her sketchy information about the man picked up on the way back. He had already been identified as the missing father of Davian, and his story would be taken as soon as he was well enough to give it. Ulsen now knew why the orderly she spoke to was looking for Davian. To give the next part of her report, she reminded the Council that some of the things she had heard were harrowing, and should be expected to upset. She started with the meeting with the disguised leper, who had gone into the town and returned. The people there are being systematically and purposely beaten into submission. There have been reports of all of the women, regardless of age, becoming fair game to the soldiers, and their evil ways The crops lie ruined in the fields, the livestock slaughtered and left for the wildlife, as are the bodies of the dead. Wolves are opportunists, and a hungry bear will eat anything There is the smell of death and burning flesh hanging over everywhere in the valleys. No one and nothing is safe from these marauding devils Whoever commands these vermin must have a heart of stone, black stone, if they have a heart at all. We learned that the troops performing these hideous acts are being controlled from some lord, over in the west, in the castle at Picalda, which he captured a while back after a battle. His name, so I am told, is Gryanth, and he comes from somewhere over the other side of the mountains. This corroborated a story given by the parents of Davian before they went missing a long time ago, though it now appeared that this darkness had now spread into the East of Deaton, and up into the valleys. I have heard tales of public raping, murder of the elders and the older men folk who were not in their prime, these being old, disabled or afflicted, and the movement of men and boys who were in their prime, all chained together and loaded onto wagons, to be transported as slave labour in the gold mines to the north of Picalda, at a place called Roxa. I cannot give any news at the moment of either the Alephin or Kotro villages, as our first priority was to get these three remaining girls out of harms way, and bring them here as soon as possible. I feel, however, that the returning scouts from these places will have similar stories to recount, and I feel a great sadness for the people in those villages, as I fear that things will get worse as this tyrant subjugates even more people, and rules them by merciless fear. Most of the Council sat, silently listening to this disturbing news, shaking their heads at some of the blatant indiscretions they were hearing.

Ulsen continued, What both intrigues me, and worries me at the same time, is the information that this Gryanth is looking to possess for himself the Power of the Marshes, our power, and has systematically taken blond haired blue eyed girls to his lair over in Picalda, and tortured them all to try to gain this information. Unfortunately, brutal torture to gain information from these girls will not work. They do not have the information or the power, and they have never had it. This torture, or rumours of it, has yet to be substantiated by corroborating evidence from the other scouts, though we have no information available or scouts from Picalda or Roxa over the west that this is so. There is little more I can tell you at this point, and until we have all of the information to work with, I feel, painful though it is, we must wait it out. She left the chamber. She was too old to go on a crusade, no matter what the cause, and the Council knew this. Their best tacticians, warriors, designers, fighters were all too old to go into combat, and the years of peace they had lived through had meant that no new recruits had been trained, as they were not needed. Gryanth was amassing an army. Perhaps it was time for Haneera to do the same.

Chapter Nineteen
Davian ran into the small ward in the infirmary, not believing what he had been told. His father was not only still alive, but he was here. He had feared the worst when they had gone missing, and to find out that one of his parents was here, it blew him away. He walked up to the bedside, and looked at this beaten man lying there, bandages and poultices applied to various parts of the body, and felt joy. It was his father. Alive, but only just, but alive nevertheless. Katrillion followed closely behind him, standing a short distance away from the bed. Katrillion, I would like you to meet my father, Davia. And he swept his hand in the direction of the bed. Davian was having a lot of trouble keeping his composure and hiding behind his cheek was letting him down. He was really overjoyed at seeing his father again, but really upset at the condition his father was in. His voice was choked as he babbled, and he was behaving as though he was elsewhere, acting this all out as though it wasnt real. He was in shock. This is my hero father, who has returned to me after all this time. You can see by how he looks that he must have climbed mountains, fought wild animals to get here to be with me. I will make him right, I will his voice tailed off, as his throat would not work. Davian could say no more. He had become the victim of two opposing emotions, and neither of them was winning. His joy and then disbelief that his father was really here, and then also what his eyes told him that to get here to see his son had broken him. Davian was suffering now from tremendous guilt.

Katrillion could see that he was going through some kind of trauma, but she didnt know what to do. Davian was injured, mentally, and needed help, but what help could she give? She walked up to him, and wrapped her arms around him as her mother had done to her in bad times. It had always worked for her. Davian accepted the hug of a friend, and started to cry, real emotional tears. They stood in this embrace of friends for over ten minutes, not a word said between them. They seemed to know, to understand. As the days wore on, Davia was starting to recover, slowly, and Davian was told he could visit for a while each day but not for too long as his father needed a lot of rest to help him heal. Katrillion was able to spend the time catching up a little more with her grand mother, and hearing in more detail the inhuman atrocities that were being inflicted on their people. This saddened her heart. She felt so sympathetic towards the families, some of whom she knew, but felt the sorrow of them all. As they awaited the return of the other scouts coming back from the outlying districts, and their much needed up to date information, Katrillion and Davian started their sword fighting training, both of them proving to be willing learners, though on more than one occasion Katrillion had bettered Davian, earning him a slap on the head from his beginners luck comment. The three new girls who had been brought in recently seemed to gravitate towards Katrillion, seeing in her perhaps the essence of their absent parents or older siblings, even though she was only a few years older than them. She did not mind, and tried to help them get over their losses, but at the same time keeping them firmly set in reality. To look at them they could all have been sisters, sharing the same physical attributes, even though they were not knowingly related. The hardest part of the training for Katrillion was to do with this power thing, and its control. She would be told to think of different things, or do things, or imagine things, and react to the scenario. Nothing happened, not so much as a tick. There was no blue haze, something that is supposed to happen, no feeling of any kind, other than hunger, as these sessions were long ones, and certainly no feeling of being anything special. Davia was able to sit up and talk, mainly to Davian, but he told him that he must speak with the Council first before he could tell his son where he had been, and what had happened, but he would request that his son be present when he did give them his report, that way he would understand it all. The Council reluctantly agreed, but Davian then insisted that Katrillion be present also, as a sort of moral support to him, while his father told the story. They agreed, as Katrillion was considered to be of special standing. The day was set for the report to be given, and Davia was given time to prepare to tell what had happened, and what he had found out, and put everything in order, as what he had gone through may cause him to omit important little pieces from his story. He wrote copious amounts of notes and lots of jotted single word trigger reminders so he could confidently say that he was ready. Over the period of the few months it took for Davias recovery, some of the scouts sent out at the time with Ulsen had returned from the valleys, all with dark tales to tell, and most with various injuries too, but no blond haired blue eyed girls. The soldiers had systematically taken the whole of the civilisations

apart, burning the crops so the people had to rely on them for food, destroyed everything the people had, making them beg for their life, By now they were all losing hope. The darkness had lain waste the valleys and its people.

Chapter Twenty
Davia entered the chamber of the Council, using only his own muscles of his legs, and a walking stick. His son, Davian, and his companion and friend Katrillion accompanied him. The two young adults remained at the back, staying in the shadows so as not to distract anyone from the proceedings, while Davia was shown to the illuminated area a round red circle painted on the floor. He could walk a little with the aid of his stick, but he could not stand for long, so he was provided with a chair to be seated and deliver his story. He said the normal customary introductions to the council members, and then, taking a deep breath, began to speak, The last time I left Haneera, it was on a rescue quest with my wife, my son remaining here for safety, he turned and looked at Davian, who smiled back. Since then, many things have happened, and I will try to explain everything I can if it will help this Council formulate a plan of action for the future. Our scouting party left by the old Western Marshes route, and travelled northwards to our home land. We did not get far. Gryanths soldiers were still patrolling, and some of us were caught. I say some of us, as the rest were killed as we fought. My wife, Davians mother was one who was killed in the fighting, slaughtered by the sword of a cavalryman on a horse. The sight of her losing her head still haunts me today. Davian looked to the floor, and Katrillion put her arm around his shoulders. We were taken to a town we now know as Picalda, and imprisoned there for a time, in the castle on the hill. There was much going on in this castle, and prisoners were being brought in daily, lots of them. We were segregated from the others as we were blond men, and for some reason we were of no use other than slave labour, so they made us work. Then we heard that this Gryanth was starting to collect prisoners from pastures new, out in the realms of East Deaton was mentioned in the gossip we heard, and the cells of the dungeons were starting to fill up with blond haired blue eyed girls. I remember one in particular, one of the earlier ones, thrown into the cell on arrival, a slip of a girl almost waiflike, but she never complained once. They beat her at first, then she went to the table of the torturer, but she never cried, and never complained. I remember thinking that she was very brave for a child of about ten or eleven. She didnt even seem to understand what they wanted, what it was all about. Marally!! thought Katrillion, but she remained silent and listened, though in her heart she screamed for her little sister. I was made to dispose of the bodies coming out of the torturers basement, and it was slow at first, the odd one every couple of days, and building up to six and seven a day. I would take these bodies, while shedding a few tears of my own in private, and, do as I was told to do, burn them. This I did, but I did so on a proper

funeral pyre, in respect of the dead, something that escaped my captors attention. They didnt care, as long as the bodies were disposed of. Katrillion thought for a moment that at least her sister left this world properly, even though at the hands of a stranger. Her sadness still remained. As more less able bodied people were being brought into the town, the disposal work was given to the less able than myself, and I was then sent to work in the gold mines at Roxa, as a slave, to be worked hard or even to death, for the wealth of Gryanth. It was from there, after a year of being whipped, starved, and buggered by sadistic guards; I found a way out, purely by accident. I met two young men, brothers, who had been enslaved and sent here from the East Deaton area, arriving as youngsters, and as they grew, given more physically harder work. They were able to distract the guards by pretending to have a fight, while I was able to squeeze myself through a tiny tubular hole up to the surface. The two boys would no doubt receive a whipping for their staged fight, and for that I feel I owe them a great deal. Brave young men they were. I remember the name of the older one as being something like Conran. His name is Condran and the other is called Beaden, said Katrillion, they are my brothers. I thought they were dead. They are very much alive, and I owe my life to your brothers, for without their help, I would not be here. The Chairman of the Council looked at Katrillion as if the interruption should not have occurred, but decided to say nothing. Katrillion was getting angrier at what she had heard, and, he supposed that news of her family would evoke this response, so he let it go this time. I managed to pass through the ring of guards outside while they were having their changeover in shifts, and then I made my way slowly back to Picalda, hoping that, as the loss of only one slave, I would not be missed, I would probably be presumed dead. To make the journey to here, I would need to be prepared. I would need supplies of food and water, just to get through the Dry Zone and to the Southern Marshes, and it would be easier to steal what I needed in Picalda. I managed to get a few supplies, but was almost caught, so had to flee with what I had taken already, which wasnt a lot I started to cross over the south section of the Dry Zone on my way to the Southern Marshes, along something known locally as the east/west track, following it for days. Five large patrols on horseback passed me, each of over three hundred men so I hid many times on my way over, and I knew I must keep going. My supplies, including my small water ration was totally inadequate for the journey, but I knew in my mind that I had started it, so I must at least try to end it, even if I died in the process. I used the muddy, cloudy pools in the ditches to drink even though I knew it is not good for me I managed to keep going until my strength finally gave out, and I could go no further. I lay there for maybe two days expecting death at any moment, but, luckily for me I was found by your people, and from there, you already know the rest. The Chairman looked at the other members, who all nodded in acceptance, and he turned to Davia and thanked him for his report and information.

Katrillion stood there listening intently to all of this, and had now lost a little of her initial anger, but still was saddened by the injustice of man to man. Davian, who was standing at the back beside Katrillion, looked at her with a strange stare and asked, What is wrong with you? You look a little strange Katrillion looked at him in her matter of fact way, thinking hes heading for another slap, and replied, Nothing. Im a little upset with this, thats all, I was angry, but not now. Why do you ask? Because you are glowing slightly in the dark, your body had a feint blue mist around it. You look strange, like a ghost. Katrillion looked at her hands and arms, and because of the subdued lighting of where she stood, she too could see this feint light blue haze, like a feint glow, surrounding her body. She could see it, but she could not feel anything different about herself.

Chapter Twenty-One
After they had left the Council chamber, both Katrillion, and Davian decided not to mention this glow that had manifested itself in the chamber, for fear of attracting too much attention, and the way she felt, after hearing of the plight of her family, attention is something she wanted to avoid. In his report, Davia had not mentioned Walgard or Sisilend, but she knew, deep within her heart that she would never see them again. Life in the village went on as it had done for over a thousand years. The training in swordplay continued during the day, and the mental training for the power took place on the afternoons and evenings. Katrillion was proving to be very good with a sword, and even better as an archer. She could split her arrows in the centre target, one after the other from various distances. Davian was having to work very hard to keep up, so he worked very hard, and kept up. In hand to hand, she always beat him, as she did a lot of the men too. It was in the battle strategy where she really surprised everyone, taking the various scenarios given, and planning how to deal with them efficiently. They even tried the really old ones from the times long past, and she was able to look at them and formulate something workable. She had this talent, this knack of being able to quantify and qualify things quickly. Her talents did not go unnoticed by the Council. Scouts were still going out to the north valleys for news of the people, and their plight, but they were still only surviving under this absent tyrant. Gryanth was well and truly in charge, but he never ventured out the safety of Picalda castle, ordering his minions to do his dirty work for him, or bringing what he wanted to him and his black-hearted cronies back at Picalda. Gossip in the villages became vital as an intelligence-gathering network, and various methods of lines of communication were set up. Different coloured ribbon or bands round one tree had a different meaning around another. A code of not only the colours, but also the tree species itself meant different messages each time too. That way they could find the safe routes without speaking to a soul, both in

and out, and get major information left for them in code, which was sent back using messengers; while the scouts carried on to find out the details. There were losses, but very few, and their cover was never blown. Brave men and women, who were sacrificing everything to stay one-step ahead, though they did comment about the satisfaction they got from putting one over on the soldiers and their backup. Many types of retaliation were thought up, and then scrapped, as the retribution would fall very hard on the people who had to endure life there, so it was lots of little campaigns, a soldier poisoned here, a soldier falling off his horse, with a little help, there. All accidental, or food poisoning from the meat or grain, it was slow, but it was effective. The latest news from the Eastern Valleys was not good. Gryanth had ordered his men to find people who could be more easily broken, and send them across to his castle. There was prison wagons crossing over on the east/west track daily, in this tyrants incessant quest for the information he was seeking. The villages now knew what this dark hearted devil was looking for, and they did not know the answer. None of them did, but they could pass on this information to the Southern people, for them to use. These villagers knew nothing of the paths into the marshes either, so they could not betray anyone. This Gryanth was looking for the Power of the Marshes, something that existed only in legend, and had never been seen or heard of in over a millennia. They kept telling his representatives this, but to no avail. Gryanth wanted it, and Gryanth was going to have it. The latest of the scouts to return were on their way to the Council chamber to give their latest reports, passing Katrillion and Davian who were now almost eighteen years of age, practicing their sword movements and patterns alongside each other, so it looked like a synchronised dance being performed in slow motion. Something caught Katrillions eye, something about these scouts, the way they were walking, their hushed whispers, and she started to fear what they might have to say. It was like a premonition. She followed them. Davian decided to stick with Katrillion. The scouts entered the chamber, together, and so did Katrillion and Davian. The usher guarding the door moved to intercept them, but saw a look in Katrillions eyes, and stepped back. The scouts each told their tales of rape, pillage, and degradation from all of the villages and homesteads in all of the valleys, of torture and death of the innocent, of the beginning of the end of the tribes of East Deaton. The council members lowered and shook their heads, looking to the chairman for guidance. He sat upright, and spoke, My worthy fellow members, we are at a crossroads in our very existence. The cousins in the north desperately need our help, but we are not in a position to give it. We have our own soldiers, but they are not fully trained, so would die going up against an army the size of that of Gryanth. Our army is small and ill equipped, compared to that of Gryanth, and it would be like sending lambs to the slaughter. We need more time, but we are rapidly running out of it Katrillion felt cheated at these comments. They may not have the biggest or strongest army, but if they had a small victory, others would join. This was

starting to get too political, and that would not solve the problems of the many injustices going on in the world around them. She started to feel indignant at first, and then a little disappointed at the lack of any worthwhile action being planned. There was more than one way to halt an enemy army. She summoned up some courage from somewhere deep inside of her, and spoke, her voice ringing out around the chamber, Then we should cut off Gryanths money supply. Destroy his mines at Roxa. The whole council, together with the scouts standing in the centre, turned to look at Katrillion, and she awaited the rebuff she knew she was about to get from the chairman. They said nothing; they only stared at her in disbelief. It was Davian, who finally broke the silence, Katrillion, you are glowing again!!

Chapter Twenty-Two
There was much excitement and fervour in the town when news broke of the blue glow surrounding Katrillion in the chambers. Some of the townspeople thought it was a sign, an omen, and others thought it would bring destruction to their way of life, but they all agreed it was a miracle. Could she really be a Guardian? And so young too. Perhaps she may only be a priestess. Everyone was excited, except Katrillion that is. She wished it had never happened. Since then, she had had to sit with trainers, council advisors, medical persons, both physical and mental, and lots of other people who just wanted to know what it felt like, and how she did it. That was the problem. She didnt feel it, and didnt know how she did it. They organised tests to recreate how she felt in the chamber, both times, as news of the first occurrence was now common knowledge, and no matter what she tried, it would not happen. What did happen was the taking up of her suggestion about hitting the mines at Roxa, and cutting off Gryanths money supply. Armies do not work for free. She outlined her plan as such. Very few scouts had ever been sent up the west side of the Dry Zone, as they had never needed to gather any intelligence from that region in the past. Now they needed to gather as much as they could about the pathways, roadways, hiding points, crossing points, and troop movements all the way up to Picalda, and beyond to Roxa. Once established, then a small raiding force could be secreted around the town of Picalda, until they had all arrived and were all ready to travel up to Roxa, doing so in secret. Other small raiding parties would have also by then arrived in small groups, spread themselves all over the town, till the raid was given the go ahead by the leader on site. Once the mines were emptied of slaves, heavy supports on the underground bridges would need to be knocked out, and the tracks inside for the carrying out of the gold bearing rock rendered useless.

They knew that they would not be able to free all of the slaves, and they would not be able to destroy all of the mines, but it would severely reduce the flow of the gold metal being produced to fuel Gryanths little war. They needed people to be hidden all of the way along the East/West Track with supplies and water for the escaping slaves, but this could create another problem. Once the alarm was raised at Roxa about the breakout, Gryanth would learn of this at about the same time as the slaves were passing Picalda on the junction of the east/west track, which ended at the town itself. All he needed to do would be to despatch his soldiers straight onto and along the track, hunting them down and killing them long before they got to the eastern end. For the same reason, they could not use the Western Marshes for cover as they were too far south of Roxa, and they would still have to pass the gates of Picalda to get there too. Katrillion was sitting with Davian, in between the lessons of sword practice and the archery classes, when she came up with an idea that might just work. It was radical, it was different, but it might just work. The small army of raiders was being assembled, the first of the groups to go, taking with them the best swordsmen they had as well as the best sneak thieves to pull off this raid, and their equipping for this covert attack had begun. The blacksmiths busied themselves making swords, the fletchers making the arrows, and new bows together with the quivers and lots of armoured chainmail had to be produced. The plans were taking shape. Horses that were to be used for part of the journey were being brought in to the town to be trained in waiting silently alone, and the food and water dumps were being planned, the locations of which would be decided once the intelligence information came in. Katrillion asked to see the council, an application that was granted immediately. She once again stood on that red circle painted on the floor, looking at these elders, these decision makers, but she knew that this time she felt she had the upper hand. You are aware we have a problem with the current master plan when it comes to freeing the slaves, and getting them out of the area as quickly as possible. They will be exposed almost immediately they travel south from Roxa towards the town of Picalda, the soldiers of Gryanth will find them easily. I have a much more radical plan, a one that neither Gryanth nor his men would ever suspect or expect. It would need scouts to gather information in exactly the way it was going to be done in the original plan, food and water dumps, safe hiding for large numbers, the plans are similar, but not the same place. My plan is to go out to, raid, and come back over the Dry Zone. It has never been properly mapped, but it can be, and it is the shortest direct route to Roxa without having to pass Picalda. Gryanth will have no warning we are coming, and when we have done what we intended to do, hell wonder where we have gone. This forward thinking young woman once again caught out the council members. This avenue would have to be explored. It would certainly give them the element of surprise.

Chapter Twenty-Three
Gryanth was fuming! His torturer and his assistants had just reported that this last batch of clients had revealed absolutely nothing, every single one of them seemingly willing to die rather than reveal the secret. Instead they had all insisted that they have no idea what this so called legendary power was, or is, or how to get it, and what it does or doesnt do. He could only conclude that this secret power must be something worth having, as all these people were prepared to sacrifice themselves to keep it from him. His paranoia was heightening daily now, and in his mind, the whole world was keeping secrets from him, even his most loyal staff. He wasnt eating properly, and he hadnt slept for days in a bed, only napping in his throne chair in case his torturer had a breakthrough, and had done little sleeping for many months before that. His plan of capturing the blond haired blue eyed races had now backfired, as there were no more to be found anywhere in the lands of Deaton and beyond. His mystics had told him that these blond haired blue-eyed people were the keepers of this power, as it was a single blond haired blue-eyed woman who had wielded it a thousand years ago with apocalyptic effect. This power was going to be his. Within the last few months, the normal peasants of East Deaton were being sent in from their hovels to his castle, and were now starting to assist in his enquiries, with the help of his team in the cells. These simple folk were not as simple as they would have you believe, as they also denied any knowledge of this power, other than it was stuff of legend. He had decided to ease back on the amount of torture per day to each of the people, but to repeat it over a longer period, so they could not escape the captors by dying. He had them now. They are not as clever as they thought they were! In a last ditch attempt to make sure he was asking the right questions of these clients, he had summoned all of his mystics from throughout all of his lands both here and over the mountains to the North West, and for them to bring with them all of their books, spells, rune stones, crystal ball, or star charts, whatever it was they used to produce this information, and to come together around the table in the Great Hall to meet, and that day was today. This was something that rarely happened because the mystics were all by nature, deeply suspicious of each other, and would keep back information if it suited their purpose to later prove their superiority. Gryanth was very well aware of their petty practices, but he knew that by him forcing them together in fear would far outweigh their petty squabbles. He would be there in person, and any such behaviour would have swift and brutal consequences. They had been left by themselves around the table in the Great

Hall to squabble for about an hour, before Gryanth walked to the large double doors and entered, his action silencing the squabbles immediately. They all sat, like sheep, looking at their Lord. My magical advisors, you are all here because there are answers to which I need to know the questions to ask. Things that have not yet been revealed to me, foolishly I might add, and there are things that some of you know a part of, and others know other parts of the same, but because of your stupid pride, it is never been properly linked to form an answer. Today, here and now, that pride ends, or your life does, it is your choice as either way your petty little power struggles do not interest me in the slightest. What does interest me is when one of my mystics feels that they should not divulge information to me in case others get to know this secret. That action of withholding information carries the punishment of death by public execution, and any goods and chattels owned by the perpetrator will be seized by me, and then your families, for those who do not practice celibacy and have one, will be cast out into the street to beg or die, so think on well before you answer. He now had the rapt attention of every one of them sitting around the table, the only audible sound was the cracking of the wood logs burning in the fireplace. So we begin, my loyal mystics, starting with the answer from each and every one of you, in turn and uninterrupted, one by one to my questions. I expect the answers to be a full truthful description of all of your knowledge on the subjects we are about to deal with. I do not want gossip or hearsay, only what you know as fact, or told to you as fact. He sat down at the head of the table, and turned to the first mystic on his left, You will go first and it will pass, person to person all of the way around the table, without petty interruptions about where your information was gained, legally or otherwise. Do I make myself clear? The mystics all nodded their understanding of the rules of this game, and put their personal pride into their most hidden recesses of their mind for now. Gryanth meant business here, and this could be dangerous for any of them, at any time. So we begin. Each question will be answered as best and truthfully as you can, and everybody will answer the first question, before we move on to the second. If I suspect a conflict of information, we will return to the persons involved in giving this information to me, and work out which is the more plausible, given the various sources of the information you have all gathered from. What I must know, first of all, is the truth. I must know what you know, not what you assume or imagine. Not hearsay, or legend. We will deal with them as this meeting progresses. It is possible that more than one of you will be proved wrong, but that could be from using the wrong people for your information, and that will go without punishment. If, however I suspect that you are blatantly lying to me, I think you already know what that penalty will be He turned to the first mystic on his left and asked, Tell me, what you know about the Power of the Marshes?

Chapter Twenty-Four
The Council had made their decision. It had taken a while for them to agree, but they eventually did, because they had to. A stalemate for political reasons was not the way to solve the growing problems they now faced. They sent out and gathered the people all together in the Town Square to pass on this edict and be able to ask the key players at the same time if they would take on this task, or tasks. There was great excitement in the square as the Chairman mounted the podium to address the people, and the whole square fell silent, all of the faces looking at him for his guidance. The Council met this morning to discuss a number of different plans submitted for the way forward to helping our fellow residents of East Deaton, and we have decided to send a number of raiding parties to free the slaves and put the mines out of operation in the small town of Roxa, north of Picalda, which lies up in the mountains over in the west. This will give us a two fold advantage. First of all, it will allow us to build up our numbers with younger and physically more fit people who could be drafted into an army should we need one, and secondly, it will severely hamper the gold coming from there, so no money supply, and therefore Gryanths inability to pay his soldiers. If they are not paid, then they will not fight quite so hard. The method of the actual raid will be discussed in detail with the people concerned, and I will be announcing who we think should take charge of the special aspects involved. The major change to the plan however is the route taken to and from these mines. We are adopting the plan proposed by Katrillion as the safest and quickest escape route away from Roxa without exposing our freed slaves or our raiding party. To this end we are going to send scouts, led by Davia, who has lots of experience in all of the western lands, sending them over the huge uncharted Dry Zone, in a basic north-westerly direction, which will take them directly to Roxa without going within fifty miles of the dangers at Picalda. They will produce charts and maps, and any features that could be used as landmarks will be recorded, plus they would seek out shade in the rocky outcrops, hopefully to hide food and water for the escaping slaves as they come by. When this scouting party return, and everything is plotted and mapped, ready to go, a whole team of people will spread out over the Dry Zone behind the raiders, to establish a guide network for not only the slaves coming out, but the raider parties themselves, then clearing everything from behind them all as they retreat to the Southern Marshes, leaving no trace whatsoever they were ever there. There is only one vulnerable place where we will be exposed to any danger in this plan, and only one. In a lot of the other plans submitted there are many places where we could be exposed, but with this plan, all we need to watch or monitor is the eastern end of the east/west track where it joins the north/south track, and for a short distance north towards the valleys. Our raiders and freed slaves would need to cross the north/south track up near the valley bottoms, and head more or less south east, going straight through

the forest that borders the north/south track to the Southern Marshes, in an almost straight line. I have already spoken to Davia, and he is willing to lead this assault on the mines at Roxa, and he has agreed to lead the mapping party over the Dry Zone. We now need the manpower to volunteer for these two missions, and we have left it to him to pick his teams The coordinator of the guide network to pull this off requires stealth and patience, and we have decided to ask our very good friend Ulsen to take on this responsibility, as she is highly experienced in covert scout work already. What we now need is for the people of Haneera to start to work together to manufacture weapons, water bags, sandals for the slaves, and many other things, the list will be given to Ulsen when the mapping scouts return with the necessary information. The Chairman descended from the podium before any questions could be asked of him, in a way giving the responsibility now to Davia to plan the fact finding mission, and then the raid, and to Ulsen to coordinate the backup. Young men were approaching Davia in numbers, and volunteering their help, in both campaigns, and Davia was writing all of their names in his scrolls, ready to start his selections. Ulsen, however, was nowhere to be seen. Once she had heard her name in connection with a campaign, she abruptly turned and left the square, knowing she would be inundated with volunteers, so she decided, for the time being anyway to make herself scarce. They will all get their chance soon enough.

Chapter Twenty-Five
Gryanth sat, in the Great Hall, still surrounded by his mystics. They had been at it for three hours now, and finding out what they knew was harder than trying to pull dragons teeth. What he had learned so far was not enough for his scribe, over beside the fireplace, to have made more than three lines of entry. Up to now, it was confirmed that they had all heard of this Power, but none of them had ever seen it in operation. They knew from their source that it was blue, or that is how it appeared to be to their almanacs, and they knew it had a reputation that it was not to be messed with. Other than that, he had learned nothing. His second question revealed a little more information though, even though it was similar, it was far more open. Tell me, he said to the circle of faces staring at him, What you have heard about the Power of the Marshes This opened the floodgates to what these mystics had been waiting for, to impress with their knowledge and understanding of the black, blue, green, even yellow arts they practiced. They could now impart what they regarded as their much-researched knowledge directly to Gryanth without the other mystics shouting them down as talking fallacy, heresy, and various other scathing derogatory remarks. Gryanth knew that each of the reports from his bunch of actors would gain in size and effect the further it went around the table, more and more being added

on as it went. To counter this, he made it a rule not to repeat anything already mentioned, and to say nothing to add if all that could be said on that subject, had been. He had no intention of sitting here listening to waffle for two days. He heard many times, in different forms, the legend of the darkness descending on the land, a thousand years or so ago and the blond haired blueeyed people, led by a mighty warrior halting the advance of the huge armies with a spectacular blinding light. Other than that, there was little information to glean on this subject, till a near last mystic spoke about what he had heard of the legend that had not been mentioned so far. The blond haired blue-eyed people were a race which allegedly came long, long ago, from a land many miles to the south, and were said to live somewhere beyond the Southern Marshes, in some secret location, and that when the final battle that took place over the millennia ago was played out, it took place on the land that is now from the east/west path going northwards, killing everything that once grew there and making it a desert, what is now known to us as the Dry Zone. It is said to still be haunted by the many souls of the people who died in that battle, on both sides, and no one will venture near for fear of the dead, and no one has been, that any of them knew of, crossed over it since and lived. The peasants still fear it. Gryanth pondered on this latest information. Everybody knew the Southern Marshes were treacherous and totally impassable, from any direction. Many people have tried and failed over the years to find a path, the water over a long period of time has carved out too much of the landscape turning it all into quagmires, and quicksand sinkholes. If the blond haired blue-eyed people came from beyond that area originally, then they cannot come from that region any more, and, as he has already systematically cleared out any of that race from all of the villages within his domain, he should not see or hear of any of them again. As to the Dry Zone, let the people continue to think its haunted or cursed, then its an area he need not bother with, as no one will go there. They dare not. He now felt safe. No one existed anywhere within his entire domain that could wield the power against him, and he could now seek it for his own possession at his leisure. He dismissed his mystics, knowing full well that before they left the castle they would be arguing with each other, as normal, and they would not dare to utter what the discussion was, for they never own up to working together. Gryanth sat for a while in the Great Hall, alone and in deep thought. He was perfectly safe, nothing could stop him now. He had learned a lot from this exercise, and was pleased he had thought of it. Now he needed a little relaxation, so keeping his thoughts to himself for later, he walked out of the hall, turning in the direction of the cellars, and to the chambers of his torturer to see what could be laid on for some entertainment.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Davia signalled to his men to cross from the forest and into the edge of the Dry Zone one by one, and to drop into a ditch-like trench about 500 yards in. They were making good time, and had all started to cross the north/south track just south of the valleys. So far they hadnt seen any sign of soldiers or civilians. They had left Haneera at dawn and travelled east, and then northward through the secret pathway of the marshes, emerging from them at the eastern corner of the triangular shaped forest. They had then passed into the forest itself, travelling almost directly northwest, making sure they did not break branches or leave trails a good tracker could follow as they made their way hastily through the densest parts of this woodland. They skirted any clearings they found so their footprints could not be seen on the soft earth, till they made it to the north/south track, somewhere about six miles north of the east/west track junction. Travelling this way, they would have two streams to cross, one from Alephin valley, and the other from the Lassabek valley, as they did not become one river until just before the east/west track junction, so, being higher up the streams, this made them shallower and easier to cross. Davia had crossed over them and into the parched land that signalled the beginning of the Dry Zone, with two of his men, to do a little scouting, and had found this large trench about 500 yards in, so signalled the rest of the squad to follow. Night was starting to fall, and they could perhaps have gone another few miles, but Davia decided that here would be ideal to overnight. Firstly they wouldnt blunder into dangerous and possibly fatal obstacles in this totally unknown territory in the fading light, and secondly, it was easy to defend and keep a guard on, as they could see and hear anything approaching from any direction. They all settled down for the night, two sentries placed, one at each end of the sleeping scouting party, the scouts taking it in turns to do the watch. The only noise they could hear all night was coming through the ground, a low throbbing sound like distant machinery working. Could this be the sound of Roxa and its mines? It seemed very distant, so it was a possibility, as they were only about 65 miles ahead of them, northwesterly. The sun came up, and the scouting party made ready to carry on, splitting into three groups, and started travelling in the same direction, but about 400 yards apart, always in sight of each other, and all at the same speed, slowly surveying the land, and mapping it as they went, the three maps would eventually become one back at Haneera. As the tales from long ago had told, nothing seemed to be growing here, an occasional clump of dune grass, and the odd stunted tree no bigger than about three feet. The ground was soil, not sand, but it was hard under foot, the top layer caked hard to a depth of at least six to eight inches. The rise and fall of the land made it appear that it resembled a brown version of the valleys to the east, though erosion from the winds had cut some of the hillside heights down, and filled some of the valley bottoms with that dust, however the rock structures beneath the soil remained, as there was no water to erode them away, their top protruding edges sharp and spiked. Quite dangerous in the dark. They knew that they must take their time looking and checking, mapping every peak and trough, stopping frequently to exchange information with each other, and then carrying on again. It wasnt easy in this constant heat of the sun.

About halfway across, they discovered that the soil had taken on a different colour, a darker, glass sand colour, and they had heard of this land from legend. They were entering the central area known as the Dead Zone.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ulsen was a slave driver. After the announcement of her sudden rise to fame, she had taken some time to plan the needs of a raiding party of yet unknown size, and had drawn up numbers and amounts of armaments of all types, swords, scabbards, bows arrows, slings, knifes, daggers, the works, and wanted them all now! Then they would need clothing that was light, but offered good protection from the sun, and the other elements of the Dry Zone, not only for the raiders, but their backup crews who would be spread out at intervals across the Dry Zone, and the escaping prisoners themselves. She wanted these now too! Food and water would have to be carried to, and then into the Dry Zone, and all the way up to within about ten miles of Roxa, and all the transport of this equipment would take a lot of people to carry it. Horses might be able to be used, some of the way, or maybe all of the way, but that information would not be know till the scouting party returned, so everything had to be planned as if everything was to be carried by people. Working out the numbers needed, and including the raiding parties themselves, everyone in Haneera would be involved in this operation at some point or another, and some doubling up on the way back. The members of the raiding party were going through their training at the same time as Katrillion and Davian were taking their swordplay tests, and also receiving their target archery results, which were extremely good. This more or less qualified them on this quest as Bowmen, and they would be placed somewhere around the edge of the Dry Zone and the forest, ready to bring down any soldiers who tried to raise an alarm, travelling the north/south track. Katrillion felt good about this. Now she could prove herself as a worthwhile addition to the town and her people, and, with Davians help, together they would do their best to save their race, should it ever come to that, out in the field of battle, and not in the corner of the cottage, sewing and mending. She had wanted to be in one of the forward raiding parties, but the Council had forbidden it, and had charged Davian with making sure that if she goes out into the field, that he protect her with his life. She was still an asset, and unfortunately still an unknown quantity, and may be needed in a later raid, should another raid need to be planned. The many possible combination of plans were all drawn up ready, and life went at a pace in Haneera for a while.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Davia halted, and signalled his men either side of his group to silently halt too. He wasnt sure but he thought he saw a glint of something metallic, a reflection of the sun on something up ahead. They had only been in the area known as the Dead Zone for about an hour, and many strange things had been seen. A lump here and bumps there, mounds of black rock, all circular over the top and narrow at the side, like people on their knees praying. By themselves, these rocks were not of any concern; it was the fact that they all faced the same direction that made it so very eerie. In legend, these were said to be the charred remains of the army of the Dark forces who had come over a thousand years ago, and had been petrified in stone to match their black hearts by the Guardian using the elusive Power of the Marshes. The rocks themselves looked more like volcanic obsidian and may have been forced up from the ground, or the original soil blown away from them by the winds leaving them exposed. Davia personally preferred the legend, it was much more interesting. Contrary to the legend, they also found signs of people having been here more recently than the thousand years it was supposed to be, and these people appeared, from their rubbish, to have been nomadic, though he had never heard of anyone or anything living here in the Dry Zone. A scattering of arrowheads, shoe and belt buckles mainly, all scrapped and broken. The scouting party needed to get into a position as near as possible to the outskirts of Roxa by nightfall, so that a quick scouting of the area and the possibilities and methods of the planned breakout on their next visit could be formulated, and at the same time, allow the main scouting party some time to rest before their return journey to Haneera at the planned speed they will be doing straight after the raid, quickly and quietly. Tonight, they would sleep within sight of the target they would destroy on their next visit, and then travel back into the Dry Zone a couple of miles or so to the first muster point, and from there, almost at a run, to the forest at the other side of the Dry Zone, and the north/south track stopping only in the selected central area to rest and eat, and in some cases sleep. Davia and some of the crew, went off into the night, to look for the weaker spots of the security of these mines, and they all found the same thing, that the fencing and gates were designed to keep the people in, not out, so breaching the defences should not create a major problem to a trained raiding party. They would also have the element of surprise too, coming from the Dry Zone. This plan could work. Inside one of the compounds, Davia saw Condran standing near to the fence, clearing out the bottoms of the latrines, a lowly and very smelly job as dysentery ran rife in these slave camps and signalled him over covertly. He motioned for him not to speak but only listen. In a few days, he would see a piece of red cloth tied to the post behind the latrines, on this fence. He must put the word out around the trusted prisoners that they need to be ready to go, as the raid will be that night, it will be swift, and there will be no time that can be wasted. Almost all of the slaves in these mines were able bodied, the infirm eliminated by the guards long ago, so should be able

to move, and move quickly. It would only take one of the guards to escape and head to Picalda, and the breakout would end. Those who made it outside would then be able to run away with the rescuers, those who did not would have to be left behind. Condran nodded his understanding and walked away from the fence, looking at the ground as if walking aimlessly. He headed for the huts where the slaves were kept, and disappeared inside. Davia returned to his scouting party, and they all bedded down for the night, ready to rehearse the rapid retreat from here, which would happen for real on their next visit. Once again, they posted sentries at each end of a trench while the others slept, and once again they had to get used to that rhythmical thumping from below ground, though this time it should have been louder because of their proximity to Roxa, but it wasnt. If anything, it was coming from behind them. It posed no threat or danger, so it was dismissed. The next morning, they broke camp and went into rescue mode, heading back, stopping where planned, eating and drinking where planned, and marking their maps with every landmark they could see, all the way to Haneera.

Chapter Twenty-Nine
The people of Haneera were pleased when Davia and his scouts finally returned, and set about drawing up the map, and starting the planning of the real raid on the mines. They had the real information now to work with, and due to Davias skill, an accurate plan and map to work to. When talking to the Council about the plan and the map, Davia could not understand why it was said in all of the stories that people had never set foot in the Dry Zone for a thousand years, as there was little to be either frightened or wary of in it. It seems as if its only a desert to him, easily crossed, and once recently inhabited. The Council had to call upon their knowledge of things past and present in their culture and folklore to be able to answer his enquiry. The Chairman spoke, The Dry Zone as we all now call it, together with the Dead Zone at its centre is feared by many people. When the Great Power was unleashed a thousand years ago, in an attempt to protect all of the people of these marshes, these areas you speak of, areas for many years after the unleashing had different names, the names that we know of now as both Dry and Dead coming much later in the history of the territory Before the coming of the darkness a thousand years ago, what we now know as the Dry zone was a fertile, and pleasant land, farmed by local people, and producing bountiful crops, with water streams similar to those that now irrigate the Eastern Valleys running through this whole area, and our Southern Marshes were nowhere near as big as they are today. When the malevolent darkness came to rob these people of their birthright in a long and at times bloody battle, a Guardian of the Marshes appeared from nowhere, a very rare appearance indeed as Guardians only appear when something is wrong, and destroyed everything, levelling the land and killing all of the people on it, good or bad, it made no

difference. No one would now be allowed to benefit or profit from that land, ever again. Before you ask, I will explain a little more true fact. Yes, the legend says that all were destroyed; both sides of the battle, but this cannot be true, as someone must have survived to tell the tale, and I suspect, as you do, that we are not in possession of the real facts of, or indeed all of the story. However, we must now take the information that you bring to us on board, and start to map the Dry Zone in a 1200 yard corridor across it, if it is to suit our purpose. We will meet again tomorrow afternoon, and announce our findings by then Haneera was quiet for a while that night. The swords were made, as were the bows and arrows, together with the other pre-planned estimated requisites. Ulsen had been very close with her estimated numbers, almost exact. Ulsen sat that night, with Katrillion at her feet, by the small fire in their hearth, and went over her planning in her head as she sat, checking and double checking the back up teams, some of which were only one person, and their positions that they would occupy, and then clear the ground as the last of the slaves and raiders passed by them on their way back. Katrillion stared into the flames for a while, a thoughtful look on her face. It seemed to take a while, but she turned, and looked up at her grandmother and asked, Tell me the real story of the Power of the Marshes, and not the superstitious laden legend that followed. Ulsen looked at Katrillion with a puzzled expression on her face, replying, And what makes you think I know any more than you have already learned? I see it in your eyes grandmother, every time it is mentioned in conversation, and the change of expression on your face, just before you turn away from the speaker. I do not! replied Ulsen firmly, Im just thinking about them perpetuating a myth, a made up story that any one with eyes can see it does not add up. Katrillion gazed into the fire again, thinking for a moment and then said to her grandmother, Tell me the real story behind the Power of the Marshes, the information must have been handed down by word of mouth, mother to daughter, for generations, and I feel that you will eventually tell it to me. Im eighteen, what difference would it make if you told me now? Ulsen knew that Katrillion had spoken the truth, and it was her duty to pass it down through the generations, being a Keeper, but, rightfully, it should have been passed down to Katrillion by Sisilend her real mother, now feared dead. As the childs mother was not here, then it would fall to Ulsen, her grandmother, to explain her heritage and birthright, but would she understand it?

Chapter Thirty

Ulsen sat for a moment composing herself, and told Katrillion to go and make the door fast, using both bolts, and shutter the windows, so no one could enter or hear what she was about to say, and they sat together, Ulsen making fresh cups of hot herbal tea, and then they in front of the fire again. What I am about to tell you must neither leave this room, or your head. Do you understand? This information can only be passed on to your blond haired blue eyed daughters, and to no one else. Ulsens face changed from the pleasant countenance she normally showed to people to a very stern expression, her eyes seeming to harden with blue. Katrillion nodded. She understood when her grandmother spoke like this it was serious, and should be listened to. She sat upright and listened with rapt attention. Ulsen continued, A long, long time ago, the whole of Deaton was occupied by blond haired and blue eyed people, as well as their cousins, with dark hair and brown eyes. They farmed the lands stretching from the mountains in the northwest, the lands in the west, and all the way over to the valleys in the east. They prospered and were able to send their produce to other districts passing through the many mountain passes, and along the now flooded track ways in the south. They had everything they needed, or would ever want to have in the future. Even the gold was crudely mined, though not at Roxa, but further north where the veins are richer This should have been an idyllic lifestyle, and it was until certain young girls in the area were able to do things the other girls could not. They glowed a light blue colour, the intensity of the glow being dictated by the blondness of the hair, and the blueness of the eyes. This seemed to occur when they felt intimidated, and they could affect things around them physically just by looking at them, or even just thinking of them. They could shatter bottles, both earthenware and glass from a distance while they were feeling vulnerable. This however, also upset some of the dark haired brown eyed parents who feared that should they chastise the blond child for any reason, this power could be brought to bear if the child felt threatened. Over time, as the intensity of this strange glowing became greater, then the Regional Council as it was then, decided that all blond girls over the age of six would be trained in self control, so as to prepare them for when this strange power came upon them at age eleven or so. This training, over time became very restrictive, and the girls were robbed of their independence, and even their childhood. They could not even play together any more in case one of them accidentally injured the other. You know that this is a load of rubbish, but that was what they believed back then. These poor girls became the unwanted species by virtue of the colour of their hair and eyes. To give birth to a blond haired blue eyed daughter was beginning to get frowned upon, and a type of segregation seemed to creep into their society When things eventually came to a head, the blond haired and blue eyed women, with their daughters chose to leave those fertile lands, with all of the blond husbands, and went south, travelling through what is now the Southern Marshes and then beyond, leaving the brown haired civilisation behind.

This solved the apartheid problem for the race still occupying the lands which became the Dry Zone later, because none of the children born after that were of pure blond hair and blue eyes, and therefore could not receive the power that they feared so much. They felt safe now, and carried on with their lives. In total, about one hundred and fifty pure blond haired and blue eyed people moved away, so there was no major drop in the civilisation occupying the old lands, and everything went on as before, but only for a while. Our ancestors carried on with our development and became a race of our own, finding that this power would only manifest itself if the person was either inside the Southern Marshes and northward from there over the now named Dry Zone, hence the name it was given, the Power of the Marshes. For many years our forefathers studied the Power in great detail, and understood the many triggers that could summon the power, these remaining, and still are, closely guarded secrets. Where a culture, any culture, is thriving and having a better life because of it, there is always someone who wants it from you, not dissimilar to what is occurring now. An evil man, a seer, or had been at one time, thought he would use his magic and enjoy his lavish lifestyle funded out of the peasants in Deaton. He is alleged to have put a spell on the Council to make them give him anything he wanted, and, in the story, this is what they said happened. In reality, there was no spell, just a lot of corruption, blackmailing, drugging, and poisoning going on among the officials, eventually replacing them all with his own puppets. Public floggings were part of a normal day He had everything now, and still wanted more. He would experiment on people to see how they would react to some of his potions and powders, for future use of course, should a worthy adversary ever appear to try to stop him. A cry for help went up from these people, and at first it went unheeded, the distance to the next civilisation from there being too great to hear in the normal way. No courier or messenger could get through. The message did eventually get through. It wasnt heard by our ancestors, it was felt by them! For some reason, all of the girls started to glow in a light blue haze, all at the same time, and in their minds they could hear a message to return to their ancestral lands. Then something peculiar happened.

Chapter Thirty-One
Katrillion changed her seating position as her legs were starting to cramp from sitting in the same position too long, still listening with her undivided attention. Ulsen also took the opportunity to change position too, her older bones a little less resistant to the pain of sitting still too long. Katrillion spoke, Do go on. Do you understand what has happened so far? asked Ulsen.

Katrillion nodded, and settled down for the next part of her education. Ulsen continued, As I said, all of the girls, and the women too started to glow together, at the same time. Not a bright glow, but it could be seen surrounding them, a moving, whirling mist of sky blue colour. On one young woman however, the glow intensified to a bright light of whirling mists, spinning at speed, with a bright glow which could be seen for miles. She was afraid of all of this, as she was a quiet girl from a sheltered upbringing, but something inside her told her not to be afraid, she just knew somehow that she would not be hurt in any way. Many things happened over the next few days, as the blond haired blue eyed tribe travelled to their ancestral land, to what is now the Dry Zone, and on arriving, wreaked out a sort of revenge on the invaders. The young girl with the strong glow became known as The Guardian, and the others as Keepers of the Power, and these Keepers were merciless in their quest. By the time the raiders had realised they were under attack, it was too late. The people who lived there were most thankful for their lives, but turned on them again and bade them goodbye, in effect chasing them back to the Marshes again. This was now another injustice, and the Guardian was having none of it. No-one knows how or why, but within seconds, she reduced their ancestral land to ash and dust, a desert, so no-one would ever profit from them again, but in doing so, killed the innocent villagers too. She was to come back and restore it in a few years, but didnt. She spent the rest of her life as a recluse in the Southern Marshes, the guilt of what she had done weighing very heavily on her otherwise innocent heart, and she could not forgive herself. Katrillion interrupted, But grandmother, she was defending the lands from two enemies not one, one of black heart, and the other might as well have been. A set of thieves, both of them, but using different methods. But you see my child, to her, as an innocent herself, she had, by her own hand murdered the guilty with the innocent without segregation, even though the so called innocent were certainly not as innocent as the legend would have you believe, and she decided she had to do a sort of penance for her actions. From this, to protect the blond haired blue eyes race, the stories which make up the legend were changed to make it more mystical, so that it would stand up to scrutiny should anyone try to dig out the truth. Shortly after the destruction of the lands, the streams disappeared underground from across what is now the Dry Zone, and the southern areas became marshes as the water surfaced again, flooding a massive area. The passes through the mountains were destroyed too, in effect, sealing off the whole of Deaton from the outside world, except to us Our ancestors founded Haneera as a base for our people to come and go, bringing in information from all of our clans throughout the lands here and adjacent, a poor consolation for the beautiful land we used to live in, so we spread out up the east Deaton valleys, mingling and settling with other races, but always maintaining the pure line of our birthright. That, my dear Katrillion, in a nutshell, is your birthright, your family tree, from then right up till now.

Katrillion smiled at that. She knew she belonged to a large family now, and it made her feel better, but she was still puzzled, But grandmother, there is one part of the story, a piece of information you have not told me yet. And what information would that be my child? How did this Guardian level the land and kill all of the people with this power? How did she summon, control, and then do it with the Power of the Marshes? That my child, unfortunately none of us know the answer to, or have ever known. In truth, we still do not know what the Power of the Marshes can do.

Chapter Thirty-Two
Davia signalled to his first raiding party to take up their positions on the right flank, another to their positions on the left flank, he himself with his raiders taking up the central sweeping role, exactly as they had practiced it, over and over in the days leading up to their departure from Haneera. A couple of hours ago, as the daylight had just began to fade away completely; he had crawled up to the fence line, his movements hidden by the latrines, and fastened a red cloth to the post as arranged. He knew that Condran had seen it, and there was a lot of covert movement going on inside the compound, in and around the huts. The raid was on. They had left Haneera more or less deserted as the people slowly spread themselves out over from the east side of the Southern Marshes, and north westerly through the forest. A couple of people here, a couple more there, these places being water and food stations for the retreating raiders and the slaves. From the other edge of the forest at the northwestern side, where it met the north/south track, this is where the archers took up their stations, both up in the trees and on the ground. It was highly unlikely anything would come across the east/west track from Picalda, a little further south from where they currently were, till long after they had gone, but, it was possible for soldiers returning from the villages to the north of them riding back to Picalda passing down this track. Some of the archers took up positions in the trench just inside the Dry Zone border, as did some people with the supplies of food and water, a position from where they too could also watch for soldiers on the track. All of the way over the Dry Zone, through the Dead Zone, and out of the other side, people were being left at different points all along the route, and because of the expected high temperatures here when the sun was full in the sky, small tents for shelters and some balms for burned or scraped skin were included in their supplies, as well as the usual water and food. By the time the raiders had reached Roxa, there we near two hundred people from Haneera spread out diagonally over the land of Deaton, from southeast to northwest, and in a near perfect straight line. All they had to do now was wait. Davia watched the guards patrolling these fences, and knew that soon, they would go down in numbers to no more than four or five for the whole compound, the slaves by then having been locked into their huts for security, so the rest of

the guards could go off duty, and do what all soldiers did there, as there was little else to do. Get drunk. There was little moonlight to betray what was coming next, and cloud overhead helped to disguise the raiders movements. At the given signal, the raiders moved in, dealing with the gate guard swiftly and silently, opening them, but not fully, so as not to attract attention. The raiders moved in, swiftly and silently, spreading out down the flanks once inside the compound gates. Davia and the central wave headed straight for the huts, prising off the locks by tearing the wood away, and started to release the prisoners, giving them instructions to go out through the gate, and meet a person on the other side of the track, who will send them into the Dry Zone. He received some strange looks, but, with Condrans help, he was able to convince them that they would be guided all of the way. They went silently from hut to hut, braking the locks and releasing the slaves, then advising them what to do next, receiving even more strange looks from these prisoners too. Somehow the thought of going over the Dry Zone seemed to temper their enthusiasm for escape. Eventually, all of the huts had been opened and all of the slaves released; though the few slightly infirm elected to stay and destroy more of the mine after the raiders had gone, knowing this could be suicidal. Once the slaves were on their way to the first muster point, a couple of miles into the Dry Zone, the raiders set about doing as much damage as they could to the workings of these mines. Lifting block poles were smashed, the water troughs filled with the washing water for panning were all destroyed, and the whole of the roof and wall support structures in the mines themselves removed, resulting in the whole workings being brought down. They had to make sure that nothing on the surface caught fire, even though it was now an inferno below ground, as this would be seen from the towers on the hill of Gryanths castle at Picalda, and, as yet, these raiders still had the element of surprise on their side. With the whole garrison of guards tied up and locked in a hut, and everything blazing merrily under their feet, the raiders departed the mines, even closing the gates behind them. They knew they had to get a move on now, as from now, the clock was ticking.

Chapter Thirty-Three
The slaves were moving along the route at a pace, and the raiders who were coming last, collected the guide and unused supplies from each station along their route, and then erasing any evidence that they had been there at all. They were slowly rolling back up the chain of people they had laid out on the way up. By the time they had reached the Dead Zone, they were slowly starting to catch up some of the stragglers, these slaves in need of treatment, and not really strong enough to carry what needed to be taken back, but the raiders were able to take up the excess. By morning, some of the slaves, and the Haneerian guides were crossing the north/south track, and into the comparative safety of the forest, and a steady

stream of people were sent safely, a few at a time, across the track throughout the morning. However, by midday, the temperatures in the Dry Zone would make it impossible to travel, so the remaining chain would have to sit out the heat till late afternoon, before restarting their exodus. This gave them time to eat a proper meal, and sleep away some of the pain from their injuries. It also meant that the Haneerians guarding the tracks had to spend time waiting about, but still watching for any sign of soldiers. Katrillion sat up a tree, her legs in the side-saddle position over one of the boughs. Sitting on the bough next to hers was Davian, feeling very important that he had been selected as a Bowman, and not just an archer. They could only talk to each other in hushed whispers in case there were spies or sneaky soldiers about. Do you think we will see any of the enemy? he asked Katrillion. I do not know, she replied, But if we do, we must do our duty, and I think we can both down a moving target without too much trouble. They sat in silence again. A short while after, the next batch of the returning slaves and escorts were starting to cross the track, and into the forest, to be led on from there. Katrillion suddenly slid off the bough, onto the ground and started running towards the escapees. Davian, followed ready for a fight. She suddenly challenged one of the escaping slaves, who turned, looked at her for a moment then ran at her. Davian had his sword ready to draw, but Katrillion made no effort to drawn hers. So he paused. This young man wrapped his arms around Katrillion, and they hugged each other, weeping with joy. After a short while another, younger man joined in the huddle. Davian would not admit it to anyone either then, or later, but he felt the pangs of jealousy for the first time in his life, and he did not like it at all! Katrillion called him over, so he took his hand from his sword and walked across as boldly as he could make himself look. Davian, I would like you to meet my two brothers, Condran and Beaden, brothers I have not seen for near five years, and am overjoyed to see them alive Davian smiled. Her lost brothers were here. She would be really happy now, and he still had no competition for her friendship. The pangs so readily brought to the surface, now slowly abated. The reunion had to be brief, as the boys needed to get to Haneera as soon as possible along with the other slaves, and Katrillion with Davian needed to get back on watch again from their trees. Everything was quiet, even the birds were quiet at this time of the day. Just a couple of released slaves with their guide every fifteen minutes or so crossing below them and into the forest. Then, in the distance, Davian spotted a dust cloud on the north/south track heading towards them. Soldiers, on horseback, it looked like two of them. They signalled to the people in the trench on the Dry Zone to halt any more people crossing, but were too late, as a couple were just about to cross the track as the soldiers arrived at this spot. They were seen. The soldiers drew their swords as they rode at the people on the track, intending to cut them down where they stood.

Both Katrillion and Davian reacted at the same time and loosed an arrow each at the marauders, knocking them both off their horses, and onto the ground. Dismounting their tree, they needed to move the bodies of these soldiers and the horses from view as quickly as possible, so they ran to the track, Davian started pulling the soldier Katrillion had shot straight through the heart in the direction of the trench in the Dry Zone, while she gathered up and took the horses into the forest for cover. They could be a valuable asset later. As Davian bent down to grasp the legs of the first dead man, the other solder behind him moved. The arrow from Davian had only wounded him, so he stood up with his sword high in the air coming at Davian unseen, ready to strike from behind. Katrillion saw this scene unfolding in front of her, but was too far away to intercept. She feared her friend was about to die, another grave injustice. A massive sadness swept over her whole body, and in an instant, she saw Davian sitting on the track staring open mouthed at Katrillion, as were most of the escaping prisoners in the trench with their guides, and neither of the soldiers to be seen. She could not understand. One minute she was about to see her young friend die, the next, nothing had happened. She found it all so confusing. Had she dreamed it? She walked over and helped Davian to his feet, him still staring at Katrillion with his mouth open and his eyes wide open and staring. If you do not stop that staring at me like that, you will earn yourself another slap, I am warning you! she said to Davian. He looked down and apologised for the stare, but he could not help it. When I saw the shadow of the second soldier on the ground next to me. I thought my end had come. I was almost anticipating the touch of cold steel on my neck, but it never came. He was physically shaking by now, the shock was taking effect. I looked up, at you, thinking to myself goodbye, and saw you were inside a sort of bright blue and white bubble of whirling mist, part of which was moving towards me like a huge tidal wave, spreading out as it went. I felt nothing of it, only the blinding brightness of blue. When it hit these soldiers, they just were not here any more. Totally vanished Katrillion, you must be one of the chosen, a real Guardian of the Power, as you have just used it!!

Chapter Thirty-Four
All of the way back to Haneera, after all of the slaves and guides had cleared the Dry Zone and were now in the forest, Davian kept asking Katrillion how she had performed that trick of making the soldiers disappear, and she kept replying that she did not know how she did it, and that having it was starting to frighten her. She needed to speak with Ulsen as soon as she could, in an effort to make sense out of it. Then again Ulsen would be preoccupied with the safe return of her two grandsons, and that perhaps should take the priority, after all it was a happy

reunion, and should be celebrated. She felt she should wait before going into the details of what and how she felt at the time. The Council however had other ideas. They wanted the information, as detailed as possible from her as quickly as possible, something she didnt really have. Under the guise of spending time with her rescued brothers, she avoided the pointing and the comments from around the town by staying at home till the novelty of it had had time to wear off, and the Council could wait. There was family business to attend to first. Condran and Beaden settled in with Ulsen in their modest little house, telling the story of their kidnap right up until their rescue. This information was what the two women needed to know. Condran began, While Katrillion had been to the market in Alephin alone that fateful day, the raiders from Gryanth came to our farm, and took all of us away, thinking they had the whole family. We were taken by prisoner cart to the castle on the hill outside of the town of Picalda, and were thrown into the large dungeons there. The blond haired and blue eyed people were all being systematically tortured by the minions of Gryanth for information about the Power of the Marshes Unfortunately we found out, he looked at Katrillion with real sadness in his eyes, That one of the first to be brutally tortured was Marally, our little sister. Tears welled up in the eyes of Katrillion, and she just could not understand why a torturer would even attempt to get information from a deaf mute. This was pure evil this was. It could be nothing else. Condran continued. Then, because of the pureness of colour in mothers hair and eyes, she was singled out for interrogation by Gryanth himself, and our father was made to stand fettered and watch as she suffered at his hand. I was told he attempted to help her, and one of the guards chopped off his head in front of her. Mother died shortly afterwards kneeling at the feet of Lord Gryanth Both Ulsen and Katrillion were now sobbing at the terrible news of the demise of Walgard, Sisilend, and Marally, and all of this done to them for some information they did not have. Very few alive have. Condran, together with Beaden wrapped their arms around their grandmother in an attempt to try to comfort her, but to no avail. Ulsen was furious, and her eyes, normally blue were now bright and hard, like diamonds. She wore an expression of hatred that could be seen clearly by the rest of the family in the room. Condran continued his story, Being boys, and therefore not expected to have the power he was seeking, we were chained up, and sent to the mines to work, up at Roxa, which is where we met other blond haired blue eyed men who had come from the more southern regions, part of our race we did not know existed till then. One in particular I can think of was a man named Davia, who I believe you already know. He said he needed to return to someone Ulsen and Katrillion nodded. We were able to effect an escape for him by Beaden feigning an illness, so Davia carried him out of the workings, saying he was moving him out of the way

of the work, and took him to one of the huts. I was able to draw the attention of the guards, and got a beating for my trouble, but Davia still managed to get out. He said that one day he would be back, and he kept his promise. They all sat together than night in their little house, sharing the grief of the family as a family. Ulsen spent most of the darkness hours sobbing for her lost family. The others could hear her but decided to allow her to grieve in peace.

Chapter Thirty-Five
Gryanth was storming about the Great Hall, throwing things from the table at the walls and sweeping dining materials off the table onto and over the floor. He had been lied to, and lied to, and lied to again, and the liars were going to pay with their lives. The previous night, a soldier had been brought to him from the mines at Roxa. He told of a very large gang of pirates, who had freed all of the slaves, then set about creating as much damage as they could, and it was real major damage they had done to the workings of the mines themselves. It was enough damage to severely hamper gold production for at least the next six months. This was no random attack, this had been planned by someone to get at him, and he wanted to know who would dare to cross him. At first, he thought that there might be a usurper within the ranks, a jealous individual with delusions of grandeur thinking they could take over this empire by stopping the supply of money, then bribing his army. This did not seem right. If these had been normal pirates, they would have taken as much of the gold as they could have carried, yet none of the boxes ready for shipment had been touched. Not so much as a flake had been taken. Then the soldier went on in more detail about the pirates themselves. Almost all of them had blond hair and blue eyes. This made Gryanth livid, as he had been assured by his mystics, and then by his own soldiers over in the villages to the east that the race of blond haired blue eyed people had been totally wiped out, and then from nowhere, they suddenly appear in the very north west of Deaton, in large numbers too, and then as suddenly as the appeared, vanish without a trace. Could this race be as magical as they were believed to be? If this was the case, then he needed to get his hands on this elusive power even faster than he had originally intended, and if they are still about, he should be able to find them and take it from them a lot easier. He had sent scouts to see if they could track the movement of these pirates, but no trace of them could be found anywhere, no footmarks, no horse prints, nothing. It was as if they vanished into thin air, every single one of them. This raid, and its escape was a physical impossibility, so there must be something he has missed, somewhere.

He ordered his men to check the outskirts of the Dry Zone outside of Roxa, and northwards to the mountain rim, but since the soldiers really did not know what they were looking for, they naturally found nothing. A further report had come in from the villages over in the east a couple of days later. Two despatch riders had failed to make it over to the headquarters here in Picalda, both riding together for security. They left the valley of the village of Alephin and have never been seen since. Even their horses vanished without trace. Further despatch riders travelled the route later without any hitch at all. It was the report from another despatch rider, this time from the valley of Lassabek, which caught Gryanths attention. This rider was despatched about twenty minutes later than the others, they coming from Alephin, and he from Lassabek which is further away, but when he saw the storm brewing on the horizon, down near the track junctions, he turned back and went to Alephin to wait for it to improve before going on, something it did within less than an hour, so he was able to make the time up at a gallop, but he never caught the other two riders up, riding all the way to Picalda. There had been no storm that day, confirmed by the later return riders, so this rider was asked to describe what he saw that made him think there had been or was going to be a storm at the end of the north/south track, and he explained a huge bright blue and white flash, made of reflected light, like sheet lightening would create, but there was no thunder to follow that he could remember. As his information from Lassabek was in the main routine, he had left reporting it till the next day. Gryanth was trying to put everything together, and coming up with answers he didnt really want. First the blond haired blue-eyed people were still about, and in large numbers if the guards at the mines were to be believed, and they had raided his mines, stealing his slaves, but not his gold. They appear to be somewhere in the south of Deaton, though where? There is nowhere to go in South Deaton. It was all impassable marshland. He would have to set about to find out in due course. What interested him most at the moment was this blue flash. Could this be the elusive power he is seeking being used? He now knew it existed; someone had it, he now wanted it to be his. New plans were needed.

Chapter Thirty-Six
A great excitement was felt running through the town of Haneera, having rescued some of their own kind from under the very nose of Gryanth. The feeling of doubt in their own abilities had gone, and they felt elated at their group effort to make the rescue raid a great success. This new optimism had spread throughout the whole town, and it felt as though a dark veil had been lifted. They all knew that this was not the end of their troubles, but it was a start in getting rid of them.

One certain occurrence on the way back was placed under an embargo, and the people who witnessed it, were not allowed to mention it to anyone until the Council had been able to investigate whether it happened, or it was a mass hallucination, possibly brought on by the excitement of the raid. This was the appearance of the Power of the Marshes, or what was deemed to be that. As yet there was no proof either way, and hysteria among the citizens of Haneera would be counter productive at this point in time, for there was still much to be planned. Word still got out though. The first people to be called to the Council were Davia and his men, and it was unanimously agreed that Davia be promoted to the rank of Captain of their army because of his brilliant tactics in getting the slaves home. Davia was a little puzzled at this as the original plan had come from Katrillion, the all of the backup from Ulsen. All his army did was raid the place and get out. Various other members of his team, or now his lieutenants due to their promotions also, were honoured for their part in the raid. Once the awards were all over and done with, the Council returned to the business at hand, the Chairman speaking their thoughts, Gentlemen, your raid on the mines at Roxa will be recorded forever in our history as a great campaign. We completed the campaign without a single loss of life, and that makes it really special. However, we have rattled the cage of the beast, and he will not sleep now till he has his revenge on us and our kind. He cannot hurt any more of us in the realm of Deaton, because there are none, but he will change his tactics to find us, and in his eyes to punish us for daring to go against his wishes. To this end we propose a plan. It is not as radical as a raid, but it will severely reduce the numbers in his army, and this time it will be on our home territory. We all know the area where the river from the valleys enters the marshes near to the junction of the east/west track, in fact it sometimes looks like a continuation of the north/south track at that point. Davia nodded, as did his men. They knew it well as it led straight into the bogs and quicksand after about two miles of very rough terrain. We need to draw the coming army, and it will come because we will tell it to, onto that track, and defend it from inside the marshes as though it mattered to us a great deal, firing from the small platforms of solid ground that we know to be there at our side of the sand traps, retreating as we defend, bringing them deeper and deeper into the marshes, till they cannot get out. For this plan to work, they must be made to think that because we are defending that track with such ferocity, then it must be valuable to us. In the next two days, I need Davia and some of his men to go to the track of which I speak, and seed it with items and horse prints a blind tracker could find, leading straight into the mashes, parallel with the river till it vanishes underground, and them on, flattening grass so they will follow this track, winding and twisting it so that the targets are easy to spot and shoot at from your hidden positions over the other side, as if defending the track. Make sure that the point where they meet the actual mire is where it is the most sudden, and plant what appears to be horse tracks made of floating wood so they will follow it in and then cannot retreat out, and you can silence them from your hidden positions, that way they cannot warn their compatriots behind them of the trap.

We know that the beating we have just given Gryanth will fire up his need for revenge, and it is better that we control what and how that revenge will take place, giving us the upper hand. To that end, I am sending a single solitary old woman, Ingria, to the western edges of Picalda to meet up with a mystic called Theoblan, a crazy man with visions that he will prove he is the wisest wizard in all of the lands, in his favourite tavern, his little theatre on the western fringe of the town. This man will believe anything if it will gain him favour with Gryanth, and elevate his status within the mystic community, so, all Ingria needs to tell him, as if she heard a rumour, is that the blond haired blue eyed people have a secret track through the marshes, exactly where we will be making one, and she has seen the white haired devils riding in there with her own eyes. After that, she vanishes and hides out in Picalda for a couple of weeks. Gryanth will send a scouting party, find what we wish him to find, and report back that the rumour is true. The bait then has well and truly been taken. Davia was smiling. This was a ruse to beat Gryanth at his own game, snare him through his own rage, his own darkness. This needed some planning, some really cunning planning. This would be enjoyable, yes, very much so.

Chapter Thirty-Seven
As Davia left the Council Chamber with his men, outside, waiting to go in was Katrillion, with Davian his son, and the people who had been in the trench in the Dry Zone when the blue wave occurred. It was time for their story to be heard. The witnesses were the first to speak, one by one, saying what they saw and heard up to this unusual phenomenon, and then, in their own words, what happened after it. They all told more or less the same story, about the soldiers being shot by the Bowmen who were sitting up in the trees, and then the appearance of Katrillion and Davian on the track to remove them and their horses from view as soon as possible. The girl had taken the horses to the bushes in the forest and tethered them there, returning to assist the young man to drag the bodies to the trench, which the witnesses occupied. The boy was bending over to turn one of the bodies onto its back, and then pick up the legs, ready to drag him away out of sight when the other soldier, lying a short distance away and behind him, stirred. He had only been injured by the arrow, and had opened his eyes, saw what the boy was doing, and silently crept up on the boy from behind, sword drawn ready. By the time the boy saw him, it was too late. It was at this point that the stories began to vary. Some said the light or wave or lightning came from the forest, some said from the sky, and only one said it came from Katrillion, and that was Davian.

He explained how he had seen Katrillions head go back slightly, her arms move out a little from her body, palms forward, and raise her arms slowly to about waist height. Time seemed to be standing still. The soldier seemed to be frozen on the spot, and nothing was moving, including himself. A huge whirling mass of bright blue and white clouds seemed to be spinning around Katrillion very quickly, and yet her hair never moved, even with this hurricane speed of wind rotating around her body, in fact it looked as if her eyes were closed too. Suddenly a huge tidal size wave formed as the huge ball that surrounded Katrillion collapsed in on itself, and it surged forward, passing over him in an instant, pushing him over, and then it carried on into the Dry Zone till it was over the horizon. All of this only took no more than a second in time, and Davian looked for the soldier who was about to strike him down, but he wasnt there. Neither of them was. The Council deliberated for a while amongst themselves having called a recess, and then reconvened, but this time with only Davian and Katrillion in the chamber. It was time for Katrillion to give account of what had happened, and she concurred with everything Davian had already said till it got to the part about the blue and white whirling cloud. She can remember seeing the soldier creeping up on Davian, her best friend, and she thought that this was an injustice, he going to die so young. That was when she felt this massive overwhelming feeling of sadness for her people, and the next thing she remembers is everybody staring at her. If it were the real Power of the Marshes, she still did not fully understand the trigger. She has felt sadness before, in fact only recently finding out about her parents and her little sister, but nothing happened then with this power, so sadness is not the trigger, it comes as the result of the summons. They talked for another hour about how she had felt, how she had reacted, over and over again, till, with anger, she began to glow a little in the Chamber. They stopped. Outside, as the two of them walked to Ulsens house, Davian was still as curious as he always had been, and Katrillion was still as puzzled as everybody else, as to how the power was summoned. Word of this happening had spread throughout the town like a wildfire, and people were shying away from her as she was passing, speaking amongst themselves in low whispers, no doubt exaggerating every detail with every telling. She did not need any of this at this time. Back in their home, Ulsen asked how it all went, and they told the story that had given to the council, and that Katrillion still did not understand the trigger. Ulsen suggested that the trigger could be a combination of things at the correct amount of each, bearing in mind that the first known Guardian had become reclusive because of the sadness that followed, not realising it was part of the power. Thinking along these lines, Katrillion started to analyse her many feelings when the soldier was about to attack. There were many.

Chapter Thirty-Eight
Davia and his men were setting up the Southern Marshes, using the old paths that used to lead to the Western Marshes before they had to be destroyed in case they were found out by Gryanth to do the section for the defenders. From these old paths, they could come up from the south to the mires and bogs that littered this part of the Southern Marshes, and picked the spots where they would hide the defenders, and still be able to see the soldiers on the other side, sometimes as close as about 12 feet away, but 12 feet of heavily disguised quicksand between them, and sometimes as much as 400 yards. These men worked very well together, and within a couple of days, the hides had been sited, and built, to protect the army from any return fire they may receive during this escapade. Once the inside areas of the marshes had been made ready, they had to travel, carefully, to the other side, using the real path out of the marsh in the east, and back along to the man made extension of the north/south track, where they were to seed the land. Grass was hacked, bent, flattened from the mire end of this track they were building, and they continued to build it coming out backwards, doing a little less each time, so that by the time they reached the north/south track, only a little bit of disturbance was made, but a few heavy horse prints in an around this new entrance. They were ready. Once this ruse had been physically completed, Ingria set out on her way up the east/west track, then north to Picalda, with a cart full of wood and vegetables, seemingly from the villages. Ingria had naturally black hair, though now it was going gray, and with her green eyes, this gave her the look of a witch, with the way she dressed. Her journey was uneventful; patrols passed her, going in both directions and never gave her so much as a second look, and she entered the portcullis gate, and into the town of Picalda. In order to give her cover more realism, she set up a stall in the market place, selling the goods she had brought with her. This would pay for her food and lodgings while she hid out here for the next two to three weeks. Picalda was a transit town, with people coming and going, merchants, buyers, pickpockets, thieves, vagabonds, tramps, prostitutes, the whole dregs of humanity descending on the only town where they could all ply their trade, even if it wasnt legal. The gentry also assumed that they owned the only road or track out of Deaton, which ran through the mountains behind the town, and ran off westward to another of Gryanths stolen lands. These merchants made a great play on this exclusive route when pricing the goods the townspeople bought. Sometimes it was more difficult to identify which was the real thief at times. By nightfall, Ingria had sold her goods, at quite a profit due to some expert haggling, and took her horse and cart to the local stables in the west end of the town, paying for a few nights keep for the horse, and then made her way to a tavern, known to be frequented by the one person she really wanted to see in this terrible town. Theoblan, the mystic. She found him where the spies had said he would be, almost out of his brain on wine and some locally distilled product, and spouting off about the mystical powers he had at his command. She needed him a little more sober, so she

hatched a plan to snap him out of it a little. Sitting with a flagon of ale at the table next to him, she feigned that she overheard he was a Magi, a mystic, with powers. She turned to him, Did you say that you were a mystic? I was talking to a very powerful one at the market today, and she named another rival of his. He took the bait, and became a lot more serious, I and only I, am the master Magi in this domain! You have been hoodwinked by a charlatan my good lady. But sir, how am I to know that it is he and not you that is the charlatan? Theoblan rose to the challenge. He sat up straight, flicked his sleeves, and said, I will show you that I am the true Magi.

Chapter Thirty-Nine
For the next two hours, Ingria sat watching cheap tricks and illusions that most ten year olds could easily accomplish, and the crowd in the tavern seemed to enjoy it, revealing the limitations of their intellect and life experience. For his last trick he called upon a volunteer from the crowd, so he could mind meld with them, and tell their history and their future. Ingria volunteered. To his captive audience he said, And now my bewildered friends, I am going to perform something that you will not believe. I am going to enter the mind of this dear lady here, and tell her of her own innermost secrets. The crowd gathered around, not so much to hear any secrets that were supposed to come from Ingria, but to have a ringside seat if her head blew up or something like that. He sat Ingria on a chair in the centre of the room, and then walked around her chanting nonsense words repetitively, and waving his arms up and down in the same rhythm as this chant. Ingria sat and waited, and waited as he went through the motions of summoning some entity or another to assist him. Finally, he placed his hand on the top of her head, and then spoke to her. Your name is Megwan, and you come from Roxa, that is correct is it not? Ingria tried to look amazed, and nodded. He received a ripple of applause from the crowd. He turned to her again and said. I feel that you have been recently widowed or have lost a near relative recently, a husband or a child, is this correct? Again Ingria looked at him with her mock amazement and nodded, even managing to produce a tear in her eye, a tear he thought was of sorrow, but was from trying to suppress the laughter within her. And you have come to Picalda to seek out your living relatives who live here already, is this not so? She tried to stand this time and she said, By what power have you that can pluck the thoughts right out of my head! I am now afraid of what is to come. Theoblan could not believe his luck. His mind readings had never gone so well in the past, and he was starting to believe that he was really reading her mind. He

had the whole crowd watching and listening; placing lots of coins into his cup he had placed there for that purpose. He decided to push his luck a bit further, thinking he might find out something he really didnt know from this woman if he guided her in the direction he wanted her to go, once he heard a snippet of gossip. Tell me, why would you be afraid of what is to come? I am not a threat to you, I am your new friend after all. He was trying to win over her confidence in him. Dear Sir, it is not you I fear, it is the blond demons who haunt the marshes. Now Theoblan was listening intently with both ears as usually he would listen to the number of coins going into the cup as a measure of how he was doing. The blond people had been mentioned. This could be worth hearing. And why, my dear do you think these demons will come for you? Because I have seen them coming and going into and out of the marshes I have. They has not seen me though, I hid by the side of the grass bank, and if I was to tell a living soul, they would come and cut out my tongue I reckon. Gold, thought Theoblan, Pure Gold! He was going to take his chance. But my dear, if I read it out of your mind, then you did not tell me, did you, so you would be safe, do you agree/ Ingria appeared to be thinking for a moment, with a sort of not too sure look on her face. Perhaps it would help if I cast a spell, so nothing could hurt Megwan of Roxa, now or in the future? Ingria feigned a smile, as if that was a way out. My dear lady, I would not dream of asking you to do anything at all that would put you in any danger whatsoever, so, should I inadvertently extract this from you, it would not be your fault, as it would be I who have stolen it from you, not you who have given it. Ingria smiled at this, hes falling for this. It was time to reel him in like a fish on a line. She nodded to him that should this be revealed by accident, she was protected by a spell and then it would be of no problem to her. Theoblan placed his hand on her head again, this time it was visibly shaking; Ingria could feel it almost like a vibration. The lair of the blond people lies in the south. Ingria stiffened her body on purpose so he would notice her sudden movement and act on it, unless he was a bigger idiot than she thought he was. And it lies at the western tip of the marshes. Ingria did not move. Though the main entrance to the secret paths lies due south of the east/west junction. Ingria immediately tensed up, and said, Please Oh Great Magi, cast the spell to save me from the blond demons, please do it now! Theoblan was so pleased with himself on his nights work, that he muttered something even he didnt know, and waved his hands over her head. He had to leave for the castle immediately, so took his leave while the applause was still ringing around in the tavern, picking his money cup up on the way out. Ingria left the tavern too after a short while. Megwan of Roxa was never heard of again.

Chapter Forty
Gryanth was rudely awakened in his bedchamber by a loud hammering on his door, and the voice of his Chamberlain trying to rouse him from his slumber. He did not get the chance to sleep as deeply as this as a rule, and to now be roused from it, if this is not important, heads will roll. He wrapped his gown around his nightclothes and went to the door, opening it to see the Chamberlain standing there in a state of mild hysteria. What is the meaning of this Chamberlain? It had better be important or there will be trouble! Sire, one of the mystics has just arrived at the castle and is demanding that he see you now. I told him you were in bed, but he said it had to be now. He has major information for you. It had better be, for his lifes sake, and took off down the corridor like a bolting horse, the Chamberlain having to almost run to keep up. In the Great Hall, Theoblan sat, waiting for Gryanth to arrive, working out how much money he could get out of the lord for this information. He was about to find out as the door swung open, and Gryanth and his Chamberlain entered. My Lord, I have information that you have been seeking for a long time now, and it came to me tonight. Gryanth had expected the theatricals so bellowed, Youll get your money, the Chamberlain will take care of that. What is this information, and how did you come by it? Theoblan told his story, though with great embellishments, making it appear that he forced the information out of the woman from her screaming soul and she had died trying to keep the secret. He also failed to explain to Gryanth that it was part of his stage act too. As Theoblan explained the location of the entrance to the track across the marshes given to him by this lady of Roxa, Gryanth listened with great interest. His men had already scoured this area before, as it was almost a continuation of the north/south track going southwards, and had found nothing in the past. Perhaps that was because at the time there were no blond haired blue-eyed people in the land of Deaton, whereas now, there was. Maybe in their quest to get at his mines and away, they had made mistakes, costly mistakes to them, and been seen by a traveller as they returned to their lair, their nest, where all rats live. Theoblan was asking a high price for this information, and normally Gryanth would have just had his men beat it out of them, but this information was of great importance, and when the last section was revealed, and the money paid, the mystic left, thinking to himself that not only had he done his lord a great service, but got quite a bit of money in the process. Gryanth returned to his bedchamber, only this time he was formulating a plan. Something that would teach this blond haired scum not to mess with the mighty Gryanth.

Tomorrow, first order of the day, dispatch some scouts to that area and see what happens. The rest of his night for him was restless.

Chapter Forty-One
Davia was sitting on a small bough on the south side of the swamp area of the Southern Marshes, his men placed at different intervals and in different advanced positions inside the hides they had made for themselves. They knew they would not have long to wait before Gryanth would send a token force to see what they could find in this manufactured entrance, and were coving these posts on a shift cycle, with sentries in the dark hours, and the full force around midday, the time they would be expected to arrive if they left Picalda at about dawn. Lookouts had been posted in the trees of the forest which was where the east/west road terminated, and a signal network set up to warn the army if soldiers were on their way. Sure enough, on the second morning that Ingria was to have given the information to the enemy, soldiers were spotted on the track, heading for their position. The signals were given, and they started the waiting game. As expected, at the end of the east/west track, they turned right and headed south to the border of the marshes, and the longer grass. The evidence that was placed for them to find was eventually found, though it seemed to take ages, and they started to venture into the outer areas of the marshes, on foot, checking about and looking for any sign of people having been through this way. They found quite a lot, but only because it had been put there for them to find. They slowly made their way to just before the mire when Davians men opened fire, intending to create an illusion of the presence of a large force rather that to actually hit any of the soldiers. There was a token fight back by these brave men, but they were sustaining heavy injuries from an unseen enemy within the marshes. They retreated back to their horses, and set off to report their findings to Gryanth. All of the way up to the east/west track, unseen archers were raining down arrows on them, once again, not to hit them, but to dupe them into thinking they were dealing with a really huge army. They never stopped the gallop till they reached Picalda, running as if being pursued by the devil himself. Gryanth awaited his report, sitting in the small hall, with just a small number of his aids around him this time. If he was to be planning a war, then the least number of people knew about it, the better. His Captain was brought to him, and the rest of his men stood down, the wounded soldiers being taken to the healer. So, Captain, what did you find? Was our information correct? Is the garrison there large or small? My Lord, we went to the location you had given us, and at first we found nothing. These blond devils thought they had got away with it, but we spotted some small telltale signs, exactly as you had prophesied, with the broken grass, and hoof prints, as though they had passed by in a hurry.

We checked very slowly and carefully through the entrance to the marshes, these telltale signs taking us left and then right deeper into the land. It was as we approached what looked like a clearing; we came under attack, from a very large force. We returned fire, but we do not know if we hit anything as the visibility in there is not good. I dare say that is why we had only injuries and not deaths as the poor visibility was also working in our favour and we were able to withdraw quite quickly. We mounted our horses to come back and report, and came under fire from another large force somewhere over in the east, near the north/south track. Gryanth sat for a moment contemplating, then asked the Captain, What size would you estimate their army to be, in numbers? The Captain thought for a while, then replied, I would say in the marsh itself, about one hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred, and on the east of the entrance, about another hundred or so. Those arrows were coming down on us like rain Sire. Gryanth sat, again contemplating his options. They were not easy. He dismissed his Captain so he could also receive treatment from the healer, and sat back in his chair. If he were to ignore these people, eventually they would come back for revenge for what he and his kind had done to them, possibly with a much larger army than they have now. To have to fight them now before they could get a larger force would mean pulling all of his troops together from the whole of Deaton, including the valleys areas, which would leave his new subjects in the east free to riot, though their freedom would be short lived, as he would suppress them again after immediately he had won the battle. This would be only a minor problem. He would have to be careful if these blond vermin did have this so called power, as they may try to fire it during a battle. If they did, his men would be given priority orders to capture the means of this weapons production of this power, be it some kind of machine or projectile sling, whatever it took. He was starting to warm to the idea of taking his men into a full blown war, to finally and totally annihilate these thorns in his side forever, and be able to gain this new weapon at the same time. He needed to plan, again.

Chapter Forty-Two
Back in Haneera, there was much rejoicing. Gryanths men had taken the bait, so the trap was reset, and new supplies of weapons were being made to replenish the stock, especially arrows. They knew that Gryanth would have taken this skirmish personally, and was probably by now calling up as many to arms as he could find, even from the other lands he so cruelly domineered. This would take him some time to organise, so the spies and scouts from Haneera were sent

to Alephin, Kotro, and Lassabek to monitor the troop movements away from the villages. For the next three weeks, there was a build up of soldiers reporting to the castle, and they all needed feeding and lodging while they waited. More staff were being taken on in the kitchens of the castle and the surrounding bakers and butchers. Among these was Ingria, making herself useful in the kitchens and catching up on the gossip as she went about her business, though this had not been part of the plan. She saw it as a way to get the latest information before taking her wagon allegedly to the valleys for more fresh supplies. By halfway through the second week, the numbers of troops was in excess of a thousand, and at the beginning of the third it was well over two thousand, and still growing at an alarming rate. Ingria need to warn the people of Haneera of this mass gathering of force, and hung around as long as she could to get the latest number. It was while she was in the tavern that night he heard some of the soldiers talking, and placed herself where she could hear as much of the conversation as possible. Ees a clever bloke that Gryanth, said one of the soldiers, with that plan of his to rid us of the blind devils, pure genius Id say. The others at the table nodded and murmured assent to what he had said. Another spoke, But what I cannot see is why hes putting the soldiers from the villages into the southern end of the forest, I mean there will be no fighting there will there. The first looked at him with scorn and said, You werent listening again were you? Hes keeping them hidden in the forest so that if things go badly for our boys, we can retreat, and draw the blond vermin out into the open, where the troops in the forest can slip in behind them and we then attack from both sides. The second soldier seemed happy with this answer and nodded his approval, as did the others. Ingria was not happy though, Haneera needed to be warned. The next day, she hitched up her cart onto her horse, and loaded the empty wicker baskets onto the back, looking as if she was going for more supplies, and drove through the gate of Picalda, then onto the east/west track. She took her time, not wanting to raise any suspicions, and everything went well. Patrols were passing her at times, going in both directions, and she understood why the numbers were not increasing into Picalda. At the junction of the track with the north/south track, her plan was to take the cart into the forest, tie the horse up there and make her way, as quickly as possible eastwards, and to the true entrance of the marshes. By the time the cart was found it would be too late. She got down from the cart, and, after a quick look around to make sure that no one was about, she led the horse into the forest, planning to go quite deep before leaving the cart, and walked straight into an eight man patrol of soldiers, looking for places for them to hide the rest when the battle was about to start. What are you doing in here wench? asked the nearest soldier. Ingria had to think fast,

I am in here to relieve myself after the long journey, and here no one can see me while I make water, so if you gentlemen will excuse me, she looked around at them, and waited for them to leave her sight. She needed to move fast, so, as the last soldier went from sight, she turned east and bolted, running as fast as her legs could carry her, straight onto the blade of a sword held by another hidden soldier. That should take care of another of their lines of communication, said the last soldier, Thats the third spy in the last four hours.

Chapter Forty-Three
Word got back to Davia that the troops were massing in huge numbers in Picalda, and that after her horse and cart were found alone at the bottom of the valleys, they had to assume Ingria had been killed trying to get back to Haneera, though why she should have broke cover so early, he did not know. His men were placed ready in their hiding places within the marsh, to try to take down as many of Gryanths troops as possible by luring them into the deadly mires. Both Davian and Katrillion had volunteered to do this with Davia, but once again, were being kept out of the firing line, and they were to be placed, working as Bowmen, to do sniper work near to the real entrance of the marshes, and should any of Gryanths troops stray too far east, they could dispose of them. A vital job, but a really boring one. Then it all started. A rumble of horses hooves could be heard coming along the east/west track, in so large a number it made the very ground shake. Davia received the light signal from one man in the dry zone they were coming, so he signalled his men to be ready, and they waited, and waited. The rumble of the horses hooves kept on going and going, until, a huge block of over three thousand men sat looking at the fake entrance that had been made. There were so many that they stretched back almost up to the valley entrances on the north/south track. At a given signal the first hundred or so dismounted and advanced, creeping into the marshes, watching and waiting for a defensive strike to hit them. It didnt so they advanced further, by now advancing almost up to the mire edges, and another hundred or so soldiers dismounted, and started to follow them in, cautiously. The large centre block of soldiers remaining also dismounted, and drew their swords ready for hand to hand combat should the blond devils try to fight their way out. The horses were cleared away to the back, remaining with the still mounted soldiers. As the first of the troops went into the mires, they started to raise a shout to the others not to come in, as it was a trap, but Davias men were able to silence them with arrows through the neck to stop them using their voices. The second wave, on hearing the sounds of what they thought to be battle, rushed in to engage the enemy, and ended up almost running headlong into the

mires, also being silenced by the excellent bow skills of Davias men. Most of the first wave had already disappeared from view by the time the third wave came in. Then they stopped coming. They just stood there, on the north/ south path till the remaining soldiers had mounted again, then withdrew up the track to the entrances of the valleys, and waited. Davia knew they were trying to draw them out, and if no one appeared, they would work out that this could not be an entrance, but a trap. They had to go out of the real entrance, and come back westwards skirting the marshes, and then into the solid edges before they got into sight of the enemy, emerging from the false entrance as if puzzled. This would be a suicide mission, so only the volunteers would be used in the first wave. Davian and Katrillion suggested that they should follow up from inside the cover of the forests, should Gryanths men get through the blockade they were about to set up, and this was agreed. Katrillion thought to herself that at last she would have something to do Davia and his men came out of the marshes, and set out along the path towards the false entrance they had made to the marshes, travelling in small numbers in case it was a trap, but they made their positions, and the next set, and the next skirted the marshes, till they were all in position on the north side of the marshes, near the false entrance. Gryanths men still didnt move, they sat on their horses, with the swords drawn awaiting a command. When the last of the volunteer Heneerians had set out to join Davia, Katrillion and Davian set out into the eastern side of the forest and started to make their way to the area of the forest next to the east/west junction. The trees were better there to use as lookout posts, and they travelled silently as they could through the undergrowth. They used it like a game, dodging from tree to tree as if creeping up on a target, and practiced all that they had learned in their training, just in case they ever needed it, laughing quietly to themselves as they went. Laughing until Katrillion came upon a soldier from behind, hiding in the forest, out of sight of the north/south track. She stopped, suddenly and then silently signalled to Davian to look for soldiers. They counted over twenty that they could see, and there were bound to be more nearer the track that they could not see. They moved back, and then tried a little further north, and it was the same, soldiers hiding in the forests waiting. Suddenly it dawned on Katrillion why they were here. The Haneerians were about to advance northwards up the north/south track slowly, trying to get within firing range of the army on horseback up towards the valleys. They would pass this position on their way, and once passed, these troops would move out behind them, cutting them off. This was not just a trap; it was going to be a total annihilation.

Chapter Forty-Four
Katrillion stood there, trying to fully understand the gravity of the situation. They knew they had to do something, but two against an army? She signalled to

Davian to withdraw. They moved back a few hundred yards, and they got together when they were sure they were out of earshot of the ambush crew. What shall we do, Katrillion, asked Davian, How do we stop this ambush from happening? My fathers in there with the army, we must act! Katrillion sat in though for a couple of moments then replied, We could possibly start a fire in the brush and smoke them out, using fire arrows, but there is not the time to prepare. Our army with your father in command is already on the move up the track, and if we tried to warn them, it would cost us our lives as well as theirs. No, we must think like them. What would they do? I would go for reinforcements, and protect the real entrance with my life, replied Davian, Try to get some of our remaining troops to catch theirs from behind exactly the same way by coming up through the forest. Then that is what you must do my dear Davian, replied Katrillion, You must go back, quickly, and get the men remaining from the real entrance to join us here at the ambush point, I cannot leave you here, all alone. I promised I would stay with you. I know, but one of us had to go for the reinforcements and one of us has to stay and try to save as many of our people as we can. Katrillion looked at him and said, I know that you fear for me, my dear Davian, but you do not have to. I will be fine here, watching. You are a faster runner than I, and with your stamina, you will be there and back quicker than I ever could. With that, she pushed him slightly and said, Now, go! He did not want to leave her there by herself, but her reasoning was correct. He was a faster runner, and he could have the troops back much quicker than she could. He turned and ran like he has never run before. Katrillion took up a new position where she could watch for any movement of these soldiers, hoping they wouldnt move off till Davian had returned with the rest of the Haneerian army. Alas, that was not going to be. Within a very short while, Gryanths men started to creep forward towards the track, slowly but steadily. Katrillion followed behind at a safe distance. From here, she could see the field of play. To the north, up the track for quite a distance was a huge army on horseback, sitting waiting for the Haneerians to advance far enough to expose their rear flank, which would be then attacked by this bunch of cowering scum of the earth hiding in the trees, sweeping out behind the Haneerians, and trapping them between both lines of their forces. She stood, at the side of a tree, watching the scene play out, Davia and his force, who were by now almost passed this ambush, were concentrating on the large army ahead of them, expecting them to try to charge them down at some point soon. She could sense that Davia knew something was wrong because he instructed his back markers to hang back a little in case they needed to cover a retreat. To call out, to try to warn them, would betray her position to the enemy, for which she would certainly be killed, so all she could do was watch, in pure frustration, and wait for something to allow her to help. Then the trap was sprung. The soldiers rushed all together out onto the track, cutting off the rear escape of the advancing Haneerians, taking up defensive

positions. Now Katrillion understood more of the tactics. The soldiers hidden in the forest were to stop Davia and his army being able to retreat, and the horsemen were now starting to gallop down the track towards them at high speed, swords drawn, and shouting a battle cry, which as it got closer became almost deafening. Before Davia could grasp what was happening and take action, it was too late. Katrillion moved forward, right up to the edge of the track so she could see if there was any way to help her friends and her people. She could see none. She would now have to stand there and witness the genocide, the total ethnic cleansing of her people at the behest of a black-hearted tyrant. Davian would not be able to get here in time with the reserve army. She stood looking at the scene, and felt so sad, so very sad. She could not see the bright light blue and pure white clouds gathering around her body, starting around her midriff, and expanding both down to the ground and up to the sky, whirling ever faster and growing ever larger. It glowed a very bright light blue, and some of the soldiers from the forest became aware of this illumination behind them, and turned to look at it. By now this circling ball had reached the height of the trees behind her and above, and as far out at either side. As it grew, the upper part of the ball went higher, like a chimney, getting higher, wider, and thicker, taking on an appearance of a blue and white super tornado, yet nothing was being disturbed around her. The leaves remained on the trees; the boughs remained still even though they seemed to be receiving a pounding by this whirlwind of blue and white. For those soldiers who were close enough to see Katrillion, they knew she had her eyes closed, and her head was tilted back slightly. She moved her arms slightly away from her body, the palms of her hands facing forward, and raised them slowly till they reached waist height. She was pushing a wave. At this point, the soldiers nearby were starting to take fright at this new magic, this apparition in front of them. They knew Gryanth wanted it, but it wasnt a machine, or a portable weapon. It was a young blond blue-eyed girl. Suddenly, the whole ball collapsed into a huge wave of blue and white-clouded light, travelling at the speed of lightening across the tracks, rolling over the land like a wave on a beach. It passed over everything, the people, the horses, and the trees, washing over them like a massive tidal wave, and rolled on into the distance. Then came silence, from everyone and everything. For the first time in nearly a thousand years, a Guardian had called upon the Power of the Marshes.

Chapter Forty-Five
Davia stood there, in total disbelief. He had been knocked off his feet, but bounded back up, sword in hand ready to fight. All of his army was lying on the ground, most of them knocked unconscious by the sheer power of the blast. Around him, everything seemed to have slowed in time; things seemed to still be flying through the air, soil, horses, and soldiers.

Gryanths soldiers, all being swept away by this huge tidal wave of light. Then only silence. He looked around again. The army they were to engage in battle had gone, completely, as were the ambush party behind them, all of them totally vanished, not even ash remaining. He could see a figure lying on the ground over by the trees, and ran across to see whom it was. He found Katrillion, drained of energy, but still alive. What was she doing here, and where had she come from? As his men slowly started to recover from this really strong blow to their bodies, they also wondered where the army of Gryanth had gone. Scouts would be sent to the valleys, but they would find not a soldier remained there either. One minute there were soldiers on the streets in the various villages, the next, a flash of light, and they were gone completely, vanished without a trace. Even their horses were gone. Davian arrived with the reinforcements, which were now not needed, and when he heard what had happened, he knew who had caused the defeat of Gryanths men. Davia had an idea that it was the Power of the Marshes, but only a full Guardian could have unleashed that amount of power, and created that amount of effect, but there has never been a full Guardian in Haneera for at least a thousand years. Katrillion was carried back to Haneera even though she wanted to walk, by some of the army, on a stretcher with Davian walking alongside, quietly telling her what she had done. She felt an extreme sadness inside her still, and Davian suggested that might be because of the innocents who were attached to the guilty, like for example, the soldiers horses and things like that, but she said she thought it was not. What she had done was only to restore some order of justice to the land of Deaton, but she felt it was not yet fully restored. Something was missing. Something more had to be done. In the next couple of days, the army prepared itself to fight again should others from Gryanth try to find them and kill them in a frenzied revenge attack, and some scouts were sent out throughout the whole of East Deaton. The body of Ingria was found in the forest, murdered by the soldiers sword. They now understood why she broke her cover early from Picalda, she was on her way to try to warn them of the ambush, but she didnt get through. She was taken to Haneera for burial, as were all of the heroes who died in these battles, the number being surprisingly few. Davia was honoured as a hero, as was Davian, along with many others on a long list, all gallant warriors every one of them. Some of them unfortunately had either died in battle or as a result of it, and a moment was taken to honour those who had died, not just the fighters, but the people like young Marally, and the many after her who died at the hands of Gryanths torturers. Then it was time to celebrate the honours of the living. Ulsen sat in front of her fire in her house, with Condran and Beaden, watching over their sister, Katrillion who was trying to get out of bed so she could join in the festivities with Davian. She didnt want to be cooped up in the house recovering from something she isnt really suffering from, but Ulsen had said she should rest a little more. She could celebrate later in the week. This was not really true. What was really worrying Ulsen was the change of peoples attitude towards Katrillion now she had been proven to possess the power of a Guardian. They may grow to fear her, and eventually wish to cast her

out, unlikely, but possible. The Council were starting to become fearful of her a little already, and from this, all manner of problems could arise in the future. Davian called at the house for Katrillion, wanting her to join in the celebrations with him. He was recognised as a hero and he wanted to share his joy with his best friend, so a reluctant Ulsen agreed that she go, along with her two brothers, as they could do with a little bit of cheering up after what they had been through, and they could, if necessary, report back if there was any hostility. When they all arrived at the Town Square, the party seemed to be in full swing, so they circled the centre, more or less to keep out of the way. She was spotted by all of the people as she approached, and a silence fell, everyone looking at her. She felt embarrassed, and was about to turn and leave for home when the clapping started. First it was two or three people, then half of the gathered crowd, then all of them, clapping and cheering for Katrillion. This cheering and clapping went on for over ten minutes. Katrillion felt a little humbled by it all. She was led to the dais in the centre of the square, and stood on it, the townspeople surrounding her and asking for her to speak. The Council Chairman introduced her, to thunderous applause. What can I say, she began, That you do not already know? For some reason, I have been chosen at this time of great need to be a Guardian, a position I feel I am not worthy of. However, as this was not my choice, then something, somewhere thinks I am deserving of it, to do this, and do it well The crowd erupted with applause again, taking another couple of minutes to subside. Alas, the job is not yet over Im afraid, and I feel it in my heart that there is another quest I have yet to undertake, and it must be soon. There is still a black stain upon our land, and I must address this with all haste. More applause. I must go to the villages in the valleys, with some men, for there is where I think the black heart will try to wreak his revenge

Chapter Forty-Six
What do you mean no soldiers? Gryanth roared at one of the courtiers, I have thousands of them!! The courtier backed away towards the door, head bowed so as not to summon the wrath of Gryanth again. I ask you to do a simple task, and you said you cannot find any of my Captains! They should have been back two days ago, and Gryanth had wondered why no one had reported to him about the battle. Perhaps they were exhausted, and intended to come and tell him the glorious news today when they were strong enough, or perhaps the war still rages. This silly chap said there had been no soldiers entering the town since the army left. He would have to go down to the barracks and sort this out himself. Even if he got to speak to a single soldier, he would get to know if they had captured this weapon for him in the battle. His patience was now at an end.

He entered the courtyard, and the guards at the doorway snapped to attention at his passing. He turned to them, Have either of you seen any of the army I sent out four days ago to the south? Both men looked at each other and replied that they hadnt. The only soldiers still in the castle were the guard garrison, left to defend it should the blond devils appear again from nowhere and attack Picalda. He immediately stormed across to the guardroom, which was situated just inside of the portcullis gate and built into the very walls, looking for the master at arms. He found him. Master at Arms, have you seen any sign of the army I sent out to do battle over in the south? No Sire, none of them have returned as yet. I sent out a couple of outriders to see if they could see any sign of them, but right across the east/west track, and up towards the village valleys, no trace of them at all. It is impossible that they would lose this war!! Gryanth barked, We had vastly greater numbers, and also a trap. They could not have won! Where were the bodies of the men and their horses? Gryanth was now beside himself with rage, and turned to the Master at Arms, and barked out an order, Send out some more men. Tell them this time to look closely at the ground. See if there are scorch marks or anything like that, anything that could signify a weapon had been fired, an explosion of blue fire, anything like that Oh, I dont need to do that, replied the Master at Arms, We saw that from here not three days ago. Gryanth almost choked as he tried to bellow at the top of his voice so he reduced it to somewhere near a normal volume, Did you see this weapon, how was it fired, and when? Who fired it? The now terrified Master at Arms replied, in a shaky voice, Well, my Lord, we didnt really see any weapon, just what it looked like when it came towards us. Stop the blithering and tell me what you saw, and in as much detail as you can. The Master at Arms pointed out of the slit window, built into the walls as a defensive position from raiders, towards the south east of the Dry Zone, I was standing here, expecting one of the regular messengers from the valleys to arrive, as he was running late, so I was watching for his approach across this end of the east/west track. There was no sign of him, not even on the horizon, and I thought he must have got either caught up in this battle that was due to be fought at the other end of the track, or decided to wait it out till our boys had won. Gryanth was getting impatient, but he had asked for all of the details, so, he kept quiet. Anyway Sire, I happened to look out of this window, and over there I saw something very strange, he pointed in the general direction of the south east end of the track, About there. Gryanth looked to the horizon, estimating that that would be the position where the trap would have been sprung from the forest. He signalled his Master at Arms to continue.

I saw this strange light, bright as the sun it was, but light blue in colour and little flecks of white tumbling around inside of it. It was coming towards us as breakneck speed, faster than anything Ive ever seen before, and I started to fear what I was seeing. It got bigger and bigger the nearer it got, like a huge tidal wave, and it was near forty feet when it reached the end of the Dry Zone over there. He indicated a spot about a hundred yards from the castle gate. The Master at Arms paused, and then his face took on a puzzled look. By now Gryanth was really annoyed, and demanded the rest of the story, immediately, or else. The Soldier carried on, Well, Sire, that was the bit I couldnt understand. It came to the very edge of the Dry Zone, then, it just collapsed, to the ground, gone as if it were never there. After a while, when I got my nerve back and thought it was safe, I went outside over to the edge of the Dry Zone to see what I could see, but there was nothing. No marks, no heat scorch, and not a grain of sand out of place. One minute it was bearing down on us at frightening speed, and the next, vanished completely, like magic. Gryanth knew it wasnt magic. Someone or something had fired off this power he desired, and turned his men and horses to ashes, which must have blown away in the wind. He wasnt bothered about the men, he could get replacements for them quite easily, it was the horses and the leather on them that would be difficult to replace. He returned to his rooms, muttering that they had not yet felt the last pain those blond devils were going to feel from Lord Gryanth. He wanted his revenge, and he knew just how to get it, and maybe the power too.

Chapter Forty-Seven
The villagers of Alephin were overjoyed to see Katrillion and her brothers once more, safe and well, marvelling at the way she had become a woman, and a strikingly beautiful one at that, and as the villages young mens heads turned, Davian rode ever closer to her, sitting as tall as he could in his saddle. They sorted out the shelter and food for Davia and his men, along with Davian, then for Katrillion and Ulsen, who had decided for now it would be safer to stay in the village itself for the time being. They met with the village elders, and told them of their adventures since they had left, and the villagers told of the horrific treatment they had received at the hands of Gryanths men. This saddened everyone, and served to make Katrillion even more determined to rid the land of Gryanth, but it could still be dangerous as she was still not sure how to use the trigger for the Power. This could be a suicide mission, and failure would totally demoralise the people in the whole of East Deaton. Word had come back from Picalda that when the Power was released, it only went to the very edge of the Dry Zone, stopped suddenly, and went no further. This meant that the castle still had some soldiers, and Gryanth still lived. He never left the castle, but she needed to draw him out, and there was only one

way to do that. Suppliers of the castle were fed rumours, which should make this so. In the meantime, the village was able to start to rebuild itself into the selfsufficient unit it had been in the past, though it would take some years to regain the numbers of the livestock. Luckily, most of the sheep had been turned loose up on the hillsides when the raiders came, and even though they had hunted a few, they certainly were not shepherds. Katrillion visited the old farm, with Ulsen, Davian, and her brothers to see what damage had been caused by these heathens, and found that most of it was the trashing of the crops, the house was still habitable, and the well still had clean, fresh water in it. There was a lot of mens work to be done. Returning to the village, she asked her grandmother if she would be staying in Alephin or returning to Lassabek or even Haneera after it was all over, to which Ulsen replied, We must wait and see. I sense some big changes coming. I do not know what, but something is going to change Over the next couple of days, things seemed to settle down, and to Katrillion, she felt as if she was home at last. This was not the same for all of the forces though. Davian was getting restless, and irritable, especially when his father referred to Haneera as their home. Something was troubling that boy. Ulsen knew, even if Davia was too blind to see it. Katrillion sat on a little seat in the market square, watching the people going about their business, and nodding and speaking to all of those she knew, and some she didnt. Davian joined her, and sat, fiddling with a piece of straw, and looked at the ground. So what ails you, asked Katrillion, you look like a six year old has just beaten you at sword play, again. He didnt react as he normally would I have questions, replied Davian, and I am sure I will get a slap when I ask them. Always ready to oblige you with a slap, sweet Davian. So what troubles you? You know you said that you would like to remain here after all this is over? She nodded, wondering where this was leading. He continued, Well, if I return to Haneera with my father, and your grandmother goes back to Lassabek, in time, Condran and even Beaden will find girls and marry them. Do you agree? Katrillion looked at him, nodded, and started to wonder what has brought this on? So when they go, who will look after you, who will be left to care for my dear Katrillion? No one has thought of that one yet, have they? She was still looking at him as if he was trying to say something but so far had not. A slap was coming soon if he didnt say what he wanted to say. Davian, as sure as you are sitting there, if you do not say what you want to say, you are going to get a slap! Davian looked at her, straight into those bright blue eyes and said, Katrillion, my dear Katrillion, would you do me the honour of being my wife?

Katrillion looked at him with her eyes wide open, as it he had gone mad and asked, Are you being serious? You want me as your wife? More than anything else in the world, he replied, looking down at the ground again, waiting for her hand to make contact with the back of his head. Katrillion wrapped her arms around him, and whispered in his ear, I thought you would never ask! and hugged him tight. Davia was really happy when he heard the news, and Ulsen gave consent within a second. The village would set the actual date for a wedding later, as Katrillion still had one duty still to perform, and it was not known that if she was no longer pure, could she still be a Guardian. Her last duty she hoped, the outcome of which would dictate whether there would be a wedding or not. The celebrations would have to wait for a while yet.

Chapter Forty-Eight
Rumours were flying in Picalda. Mystical little rumours of magic and sorcery were everywhere. Even the many mystics around the town were starting to take notice of these new tales, as they would not like a usurper to suddenly appear on their patch and jeopardise their income, especially if this one had some form of real magic. For their own existence, Gryanth must be convinced to rid the land of this interloper, this charlatan, and it was up to them to convince him. Gryanth, on the other hand, was more interested in making the East Deaton villagers pay for what their blond haired cousins had done to his army, and more importantly, his reputation. He felt sure that if he hurt them, the blond haired tribe would appear. These blond devils were going to suffer, oh they were going to really, really suffer. He had dispatched a scouting party to the villages, and was waiting the return of them, so he could finally receives the report he had been so long awaiting, before planning his next move. He did not have long to wait. The soldiers returned, a little beaten about, but still alive, having run into one of the blond haired patrols on the way back, and they were taken straight into his presence. For two whole hours he questioned them about what they had seen, heard, witnessed, even assumed. From these two soldiers, he learned that a blond haired garrison guarded all of the villages by patrolling the valley entrances, and it was like a wall of bodies to pass through. The soldiers had succeeded to sneak around the blockade, and were able to get quite close to the village of Alephin, in the first valley. The villagers there were seemingly going about their business as normal, and they could not see any trace of their comrades who had been posted over this side recently, or find out where they might be imprisoned. The place was overflowing with blond haired blue-eyed people, though the indigenous villagers were all brown haired brown eyed.

They were lucky enough to overhear some interesting gossip though, and looking at the preparations going on in the village, it could well be correct. Someone very important was going to visit the village, someone really important. The villagers were hanging out coloured bunting, and the bakeries were working as hard as they could to make large fruit cakes, as if for some kind of celebration. Wine was being fermented in huge quantities. Gryanth listened to his men, and these facts were of great interest to him, as it meant his men could not snatch the weapon or its operator or carrier anywhere in the valleys, as it would be too well protected. The two soldiers however, did report that the weapon would be travelling from the south, somewhere south of the marshes and would be spending an overnight stay in the cover of the forest, more or less where his ambush had been laid. If Gryanth were to get this weapon, he would have to do it at the east side of the east/west track, roughly where the last battle had supposed to have taken place. He would have his remaining soldiers armed, and ready to go. However, his mystics were all agreeing and advising him that this weapon could only be bestowed on, given to, or taken by, a person of high status, and not given to a lowly soldier. He was extremely reluctant to leave the safety of the castle, but he was on the horns of a dilemma. Was he willing to take the risk of losing any chance of seizing the power altogether by remaining in the castle, or should he ride out with his men to collect it in person. The mystics all seemed to favour the latter, and said they could cast a spell to protect him from this so called power, as long as he remained on his horse. Gryanth was a coward, but a greedy coward. He would spend the night thinking over his options.

Chapter Forty-Nine
It was nightfall when Katrillion, Davia, Davian and some of his best men arrived at the junction with the east/west track, and set up their camp for the night well inside the tree line. Sentries were posted, and the battle plans were drawn. They expected Gryanth would take the bait, and would decide to try to hide his men, like before, using the forest as cover, and then await the coming of his enemy. Unfortunately for him, they were already there, in his position, and waiting for him. There were two plans that could play out. The first, Gryanth would remain the coward and hide in the castle, just send some men over to try to capture the power from the blond army. If that happened, then this blond haired army would simply melt away into the background, and remain out of sight till Gryanths soldiers had gone, as if they had never been there. This would then mean fresh planning all over again.

The second scenario, and the preferred, would be that Gryanth would ride with his men, having taken the bait that had been sent, that way would then trap him outside of the castle. They also expected him to remain on his horse, as this was another of the little rumours sent to the town, and this could also give Katrillion a better positive identification of this black-hearted individual. They sat around their campfire that night, and each told their story of the campaign so far. They told it so that everyone present knew everything that had happened to everyone, so it could be told and written down later, even if some of them did not make it back. The information was shared. They sat together like good friends would, all in the circle, no exclusions, knowing that tomorrow could be their last day. They talked about the good times, and the bad, each in turn saying what they wished for, and what they didnt want to see. They all slept a little that night, but in the back of all of their minds were the risks they were going to take at sometime tomorrow. Over in Picalda castle, Gryanth didnt sleep at all. He paced the floor in the Great Hall almost all of the night. He had his Chamberlain in with him as a sounding board, running through his options out loud, and then asking the Chamberlain which sounded the better plan. By dawn, he was exhausted, but he had decided that he must ride with his men, though he would remain at the rear of the column at all times, if he was to stand any chance of gaining his final goal. He was also bringing along his mystics, so they could protect him at all times, something they didnt want to do, but they dare not refuse. They were to surround him at the back of the column, so that if their magic didnt work, it was they who took the arrow for their failure and not him. Preparations for battle had been made in Picalda, and only about fifty soldiers were available to ride out with Gryanth. The mystics had informed him that fifty would be more than enough, so he almost believed them, and, in the morning, off they went, riding along the east/west track in a sort of parade formation, nothing hurried so that the dust raised could not be seen from the distance of say high up in the valleys. They had to be discreet if they were to lay a trap later today. Davias men spotted the Gryanth army approaching well before it was halfway along the track, and their second plan was put into operation. They scattered further into the forest, and some of them took up positions over in the trenches of the Dry Zone, hiding from sight completely. They would then be behind Gryanths men, the idea being to trap a trap. Once again, Katrillion and Davian were to be part of the sniper Bowmen, picking off those who tried to escape the main battle, and had taken up positions slightly north of the others, where the trees were not only taller, but gave a commanding view of both the track and the first six hundred yards of land into the forest. Gryanth and his men arrived at the end of the east/west track, dismounted and scouted around, checking everywhere they could, but found nothing, so moved into the forest for cover ready to ambush this very important person or persons who was going to emerge from the marshes sometime soon. The horses were taken to the rear of the soldiers positions, deeper into the forest, so as not to make a sound if they heard other horses approaching, and then Gryanths men dug in.

The two soldiers at the rear of the rest of them, whose job it was to look after the horses got quite a shock when they were suddenly grabbed, captured, gagged, tied to a tree for the moment, and all of the horses taken away. The whole cavalries horses would be taken to Haneera. One by one, as night fell, Gryanths soldiers were taken care of, not killed, but captured and rendered inoperable. Their fate would be the same as that of their master, but that would come later. They would be on centre stage soon enough. By the next morning, only a handful of Gryanths troops were still milling around their master and his sleeping, lazy mystics. Suddenly, a massive cacophony of sound could be heard coming from the south end of the track. Trumpets blew; voices chanted a wailing sound of chant, and drums being beaten very hard. Gryanths remaining men immediately took up their positions right next to the edge of the forest, ready to act when the command was given, Gryanth himself coming forward so he could watch the proceedings. The parade that was about to pass them however was not some high-ranking Emperor or even a King with a massive entourage. It comprised of three large prisoner carts, squashed full of Gryanths soldiers, and each being pulled by two of his finest horses. Only one old woman led the whole parade of carts, holding a rope to the first horse, and another rope from the back of each cart to the horses following. Each soldier inside each cage was standing up, tied by his wrists to the bars that ran across the top of each cage, and they were all securely gagged. Also they were completely naked. Not only had the blond devils taken their swords, shields and their chainmail, but also their dignity. Gryanth bristled with anger at this insult. His men naturally rushed forwards in an effort to free their colleagues, thinking they had only one old woman to deal with, and it would even up the manpower numbers, but Katrillion, Davian, and the other Bowmen were able to pick them off one by one. Those who were not shot ran back to the forest for cover. Gryanth was, by now, totally livid, and gave the instruction to his men to go out again and free his soldiers on the carts, so they could begin the job of defeating this blond haired vermin. They never moved. Fear was now in charge. Gryanth mounted the horse he had kept at his side all night, then ordered his mystics to form a circle around him and the horse, and started to move out of the trees and towards the cages, getting to about twelve to fifteen feet before his mystics were cut down by the Bowmen. He needed to save some of them for his protection against the power, so rode back with them to the cover of the forest. Everything went silent for a short while, and no one seemed to be in a hurry to move anywhere. Suddenly Katrillion appeared at the front of the carts, her hair shining in the sun like gold, her eyes as blue as if reflected by the summer sky. She walked slowly and commandingly to a position directly in front of where Gryanth was hiding. She spoke, Lord Gryanth, we meet at last. I need to have words with you! Gryanth pulled together his remaining mystics and asked them for advice. They agreed that to get the power he so desired, he must meet this Guardian, face to face, as the old legend said so. Perhaps this was another of the pieces of planted information from Haneera, who knows?

Gryanth thought for a moment, reluctant to even consider exposing himself to anyone, let alone this blond witch standing in front of him. Katrillion repeated her request, but his time, Gryanth had no choice as he felt himself being physically lifted from the ground, and then carried by invisible people who he could not see, then placed on the ground, with his back to the Dry Zone, and facing Katrillion. You can do nothing to me! he spat at her indignantly, For I am guarded by the protection spells of my mystics. She replied, calmly and quietly, Shall we see if that is so? and she turned towards the forest. There were cries of fear from within the woods, as every mystic suddenly floated out onto the track, coming to rest standing next to Gryanth. Katrillion looked straight into the eyes of Gryanth, seeing not only the blackest of darkness, but also the pit of fear, and it was that fear she was now going to work on. Lord Gryanth, we need to talk.

Chapter Fifty
Gryanth stood there, along with his sniveling mystics, defiant as he could be. Around them was a sort of stalemate, with no-one moving from either side. Katrillion began to speak, You say that these frauds, these charlatans who call themselves mystics will protest you? Watch! The mystics were once again lifted from the ground, and then sent hurtling upwards and outwards at enormous speeds till they were mere specks in the sky, then left to drop. There was no way that they would land and be alive, wherever that was going to be. Gryanth could see he was up against a very powerful and magic foe, and now alone, so he thought perhaps it was time to use a little reasoning, after all this was only a young woman, and little knowledge of the ways of the world. Perhaps he could talk her into sharing the power, and then in time he could remove her from the picture and have it all to himself. Can we not come to some sort of agreement here? Can we not solve the problem together? he asked, calmly, hoping to defuse the situation he now found himself in. We can, replied Katrillion, And it is about to happen She stood upright, looking straight into his black eyes, and said, with measured tone, Lord Gryanth, you have been found guilty of crimes against humanity in the populations of East Deaton, and surrounding areas. You have also been found guilty of racial discrimination against the blond haired and blue-eyed people of this land, having used torturous means to obtain information about something you assumed they knew of but cannot have. You have also been found guilty of ordering your men to commit heinous crimes against the people in the East Deaton villages, and subjugating them to your will, starving them into submission.

As I am duty bound to ask, how do you plead to the charges laid before you? Gryanth looked at Katrillion with disbelief. Who the hell does she think she is? She is going to feel the lash of his tongue, Listen you little blond haired freak, I answer to no-one but myself. I am the law here, and if you know what is good for you, you will return to where you came from and let me get back to ruling this land as it should be! By now, quite a crowd of Davias men had gathered to listen to this banter between the two. Davian came and stood at the front of the semicircle of people. Gryanth raised his arm in the air, a signal for his remaining soldiers to start to fight, this possibly being a tactic so Gryanth could slip away unnoticed, but he found he couldnt move at all. One of the soldiers, sword drawn was making a run on Katrillion, when Davian spotted him, and ran to intercept. They fought briefly, and the soldier went down, but so did Davian. He was carried away. Katrillion turned to Gryanth, her patience now starting to wane and told him, You might have remained out of harms way over in your little castle in the west, and the Power of the Marshes may not have been invoked had you not triggered the chain of events yourself. It is all of your doing, and you will now suffer the consequences. Gryanth looked at Katrillion with a puzzled look then asked, What was it I was supposed to have done that started this whole power thing, and why cannot I benefit from it? Only once in every few generations, a Guardian is picked by the Marshes themselves, a blond haired and blue eyed girl of innocence, not to use the power but to guard that it is never used or misused by others. What you did was to take and torture the real Guardian selected by the Marshes, a young girl who could not hate anything, loved everyone, and loved life. This real Guardian was blessed with the great power of inner sight, something we all wished we had. She could never have given you any information about the Power of the Marshes, because she was not blessed with the power of hearing or speech, yet she had untold wealth of knowledge inside her head. Upon her death, at your hand or your henchmen, the Marshes themselves had to select a new Guardian, and bestowed upon that person all that would be needed to put right the massive injustice of the death of the first. Had the first Guardian been killed on the East side of Deaton, you would all now be dead, all of your men, including you. Your castle protected you as it lies outside of the boundaries of the power. Then it protected you, now it does not. You wanted to see the Power of the Marshes, to possess all it can do, to use the power for your own ends. This cannot be so. You murdered the First Guardian, my sister Marally, who was only nine years old, and, as the new Guardian, it is up to me to show you the error of your ways for eternity. Gryanth watched in horror as the blue and white mists started to form around Katrillion, swirling and getting faster and bigger. He could not move, he could only watch. By the time the Power collapsed into a wave, shooting across the Dry Zone, Katrillion had passed out on the ground. Gryanth, and all of his men were no more. Vanished forever.

Chapter Fifty-One
From that day on, the people of Deaton owed Katrillion and her kind a great debt of gratitude, and welcomed them back into a society. Over the next few months the crops were replanted, the livestock were made to breed in large numbers, and the valleys became the chief suppliers of the food to Picalda, and the outlying areas. Peace reigned. Katrillion married Davian in a huge ceremony held in Alephin, with guests from all of the villages, including Haneera, and they took over the running of the old farm of Walgard and Sisilend, her parents. As Davian had prophesied, Condran found himself a young lady, and even young Beaden was starting to take notice of girls. Ulsen returned to Lassabek, and Davia moved from Haneera to a farm in Alephin, he too finding a nice lady for company in the village. There are many, many more stories to come out of Deaton, of unexplained myths and legends, but one now is still to be explained. When Katrillion dealt with Gryanth at the end of the east/west track, the army and the people split up and went their own ways to their own homes, and for weeks, no one noticed the green shots appearing all over the Dry Zone. Had Katrillion corrected the change made by a previous Guardian, or was it just coincidence that the Power may have shifted the movement of the water underground. The Southern Marshes started to dry out a little after that too, and were now nowhere near as large as they had been. Perhaps when another Knave, of dark heart, arrives in the land of Deaton, then the marshes will swell, and elect another Guardian. Who knows?

John Baxter 2012.