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          +-+--+-+--+-+     VOLUME EIGHT                  NUMBER ONE
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          |           |      BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine 
       ___|___________|___  X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE>

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                                 CONTENTS 
             X-Editorial                          'Orny' Liscomb 
            *Ornate Love                           Jim Owens
             Ceda the Executioner: 6               Joel Slatis 

           Date: 070887                               Dist: 384 
           An "*" indicates story is part of the Dargon Project
           All original materials  copyrighted by the author(s) 
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                               X-Editorial
     At long last,  we have the first issue of  the 1987 summer volume.
 The  delay since  the  last issue  is  certainly not  due  to lack  of
 submissions, as I  currently have enough material on hand  to send out
 nearly five  full issues. Why, then,  has 8-1 not been  sent out until 
 now?  Well, as  you will  recall (if  you read  the Xeditorial  in the
 last issue),  I am in  the process of setting  up shop so  that FSFnet
 will be  available via standard  US post for  readers who do  not have 
 computer accounts. I vowed  that I would not send out  8-1 until I had 
 a  firm policy  for this.  Therefore, it  is with  great pride  that I 
 announce that FSFnet now supports hardcopy subscriptions. 
     Hardcopy subscriptions  are available to  the public at a  cost of 
 $2.00 per  issue for domestic orders,  and $2.50 per issue  for issues
 sent  abroad.  These  issues  will be  produced  using  Amiga  desktop 
 publishing.  Issues will  be improving  in the  near future,  as I  am
 planning on purchasing  a new printer for that purpose,  and I hope to 
 include graphics  in the  future. To  receive a  hardcopy subscription
 to  FSFnet, I  need  your  full name,  mailing  address, and  payment.
 Please specify the  number of issues your subscription  will last, and 
 the  payment should  be the  above rate  multiplied by  the number  of
 issues.  Checks   should  be  made   payable  to  David   A.  Liscomb. 
 Correspondance   may    be   addressed   via   electronic    mail   to 
 CSDAVE@MAINE.BITNET or via  US post to David A. Liscomb,  221 C Center
 Street, Bangor Maine, 04401 USA. 
     Now, as  I mentioned, we have  a backlog of stories  waiting to be
 printed,  so  future   issues  will  be  sent  out   very  soon.  Some
 highlights include the  continuation of Joel Slatis'  "Ceda" epic, the 
 continuation  of   John  White's  "Treasure"  series,   several  short
 stories by  new Dargon  authors, several  excellent Dargon  stories by 
 Jim Owens, and my own "Legend in the Making". So watch your readers! 
     Also of  note, several  FSFnet writers  (myself included)  will be 
 attending  the  Society  for  Creative Anachronism's  Pennsic  War  on
 August 8-15.  There will be  a gathering  of Dargon authors  for their
 own secret  purposes, and all  FSFnet readers  are welcome to  seek us
 out. If  you will  be at  Pennsic and wish  to drop  by, feel  free to 
 contact me, and arrangements can be made. 
     Enough! Enough, I say! On to the issue at hand, if you will...
                     -'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE> 

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                               Ornate Love
     Levy  crouched  low  on   his  wildly  galloping  horse.  Branches 
 swatted him  across the face  and chest.  He glanced back.  The wolves
 were  still following.  He  had  shot several  before  he  ran out  of
 arrows.  He thought  there  were about  seven of  them.  Levy and  the 
 horse burst  into a  small clearing.  Grass grew  tall in  the meadow.
 Levy  turned back  just as  they  reached the  far side.  He had  been 
 right: seven. 
     Levy Barel was  the son of the  mayor of a village  near Dargon, a 
 city a  little to the  south. He was a  blacksmith by trade,  and just 
 about  everything  else  by  choice.  He had  just  escaped  from  the
 clutches of  a minor  lord, who  had been  coercing him  into building
 siege engines  for a small  war. In the  process of escaping  Levy had
 managed  to make  a breach  in  said lord's  keep, and  that lord  had
 pursued Levy  into the wilderness. Levy  had been riding for  two days
 before the wolves had found his trail.
     Levy lifted  his gaze to  the far trees. There  was a path  on the 
 other  side  of  the  field.  Levy urged  his  horse  on  faster.  The
 exhausted  beast responded  weakly. The  wolves kept  up easily.  Soon 
 the path dipped, running  a few yards below the lip  of a steep slope.
 Levy  drew   his  sword.   To  his  left   the  slope   dropped  down, 
 disappearing  into the  trees. To  his  right, almost  level with  his
 face, was  the top  of the slope.  Levy knew the  wolves would  try to
 move up  beside him. He  would have to fight  them off. He  just hoped
 his horse had the strength to not fall. 
     He  glanced quickly  to his  left. Through  the treetops  he could 
 see that  he was in a  valley, with a lake  in the bottom. He  was not 
 far from the lake. If he could somehow use that to his advantage...
     He never got the  chance. A flash of gray was  the only warning he 
 got before  one hundred  pounds of hungry  carnivore hurled  itself at 
 him from  the top  of the  slope. Levy smashed  the wolf's  skull with 
 his sword,  but its body threw  him off his horse.  The impact knocked 
 Levy's breath out,  and a moment later he blacked  out when he cracked
 his head on a tree trunk. 
     The next  thing Levy knew  he was rolling  down a slope.  He threw 
 out  his arms,  and managed  to  slow himself  to the  point where  he 
 could get  his feet  under himself  and slow  to a  jog. His  head was
 throbbing, along  with the  rest of  his body. He  felt his  body with 
 his hands.  He seemed intact,  but all his possessions,  including his
 knife, were lost  on the slope above. He could  still hear the wolves. 
 He continued  to jog down  the slope, in  hopes of reaching  the water 
 before  the wolves  reached  him.  He could  see  the  trees thin  out
 ahead,  and the  underbrush thicken.  As  he approached  it, he  could 
 start to hear  the sounds of canine  feet on the slope  behind him. He 
 started to run.
     He  reached the  undergrowth just  as the  first howl  reached his 
 ears.  He tried  to crash  through, but  part of  the way  through his
 foot caught on  something. His still-pounding head spun  as he pitched
 forward. He  crawled forward,  out of the  undergrowth. He  looked up, 
 and saw her.
     It  would  have been  hard  to  tell which  of  the  two was  more 
 surprised. The last  thing Levy expected to see in  that wild area was
 a young woman,  dressed in flowing white. Judging  from the expression
 on her face,  the last thing she expected was  a battered and bleeding
 stranger.  Both, however,  could  hear the  running animals  following
 close behind  Levy, and  both took what  they thought  was appropriate 
 action. Levy  continued to try  to reach the  water, and she  took her
 ornately decorated staff in a firm, two handed grip. 
     When the  first wolf burst from  the bushes, she caught  it with a
 sharp  blow to  the head.  There  was a  sharp crack,  and the  animal 
 crashed  to the  ground. The  next animal  caught her  backstroke, and 
 also dropped. Neither  moved after that. The rest of  the animals were
 more  cautious.  They formed  a  semi-circle  around the  two  humans. 
 While the  woman stood, braced  for more action, Levy  levered himself
 up. He glanced  around for a weapon.  Pulled up on the  flat beach was 
 a boat. In  it were some long  pieces of trimmed ash.  He grabbed one,
 and turned  around in  time to  see her strike  another wolf  with her
 staff.  He realized  that the  decorations were  made of  multicolored 
 metal.  He could  also smell  a strange  smell in  the air.  The other 
 four wolves  did not  want to  fall back.  Levy leaped  out at  one of
 them. He  swung the  ash branch,  and connected  with the  animal. The
 staff  returned bloody.  The wolf  staggered. He  swung again,  and it 
 fell. He  heard a now-familiar  crack, and  started to turn.  Then the
 world exploded in black. 

     When  light returned  to the  world, Levy  found himself  lying on 
 something  soft, in  a cedar-scented  area.  He opened  his eyes,  and
 promptly closed  them again when  a wave of  pain took over  his head.
 He tried  to soothe the  ache with his hand,  only to develop  a world
 of others  the moment he tried  to move. He finally  realized that his
 entire body  hurt. It  was then  that he  finally allowed  himself the 
 luxury of a groan. 
     "Hello?" 
     Levy paused.  The voice was  beautifully feminine. He  tried again
 to open his eyes,  but shut them tight once more.  A cool, smooth hand
 settled on his forehead. 
     "Can you understand me?"
     "Uuuhhh..." It  wasn't quite  what Levy  had in  mind, but  it was 
 all his  tongue would produce. He  swallowed and tried again.  "Yes, I
 can understand you." 
     Something  cold and  wet was  placed over  his eyes.  "How are you 
 feeling?" 
     "Badly. I hurt all over. It hurts to open my eyes." 
     "I accidentally  hit you  with my  staff. I  couldn't wake  you up
 after  that, and  I'm afraid  I dropped  you a  few times  getting you 
 back to the house. I'm sorry." 
     "'S'all right. What of the wolves?"
     "The last two  ran off. I left the others  there. They're probably 
 eaten by now. The wolves are hungry around here." 
     "So  I see."  Levy  pushed the  cloth aside  and  forced his  eyes 
 open. The  light stung, but  he wanted to see  who he was  talking to.
 "Who are you?" 
     Seeing  her charge  taking  an  interest in  life  once more,  the
 woman leaned back in her chair. "My name is Sarah."
     Levy looked at  her and at their surroundings. She  was clothed in 
 a  light  blue  dress,  and  the  room was  a  rather  large  one,  of
 well-dressed logs. Light  was streaming in slatted  windows. It looked 
 like morning sunshine.
     "What time  is it?"  Levy tried  sitting up.  Blackness threatened 
 to swallow him again, so he leaned back again. 
     "Mid-morning.  I brought  you here  yesterday. You've  slept since 
 then. You should sleep some more."
     Levy's  head  was  really  hurting by  that  time.  "Maybe  you're
 right." He closed his eyes, and relaxed.
     Levy awoke later  on that night, in time for  supper. Sarah served
 pot-au-feu in ornately  carved bowls. She and Levy  ate quietly, using 
 shiny steel  spoons. She cut  the bread  with a beautiful  knife, also 
 of steel,  with a  handle of  wood and  intricately  wrought  gold and 
 silver.
     Levy  picked  up  the  knife  after she  put  it  down.  "This  is
 beautiful.  I don't  know  if I've  ever seen  work  quite like  this. 
 Where'd you get it?"
     "I made it.  I made all these  things." She waved her  hand at the
 table utensils. 
     "They're very nice.  Where did you get the steel?"  Levy knew that
 steel was not easy to come by, even for  someone rich  enough to  be a 
 goldsmith.
     "My father made it."
     Levy  looked at  her, slightly  startled.  He had  only ever  seen 
 steel being made once, and that was in Dargon.
     "I would like to watch him work. Do you think I could?" 
     Sarah bowed  her head.  When she  raised it her  face was  sad. "I
 would  like to  see him  work  again, too.  He's been  dead now  three
 years." She looked out across the table, avoiding Levy's eyes. 
     "I'm sorry. I  didn't know." Levy thought for a  moment. "Who else
 lives here?"
     "I  live alone."  A strange  thoughtful expression  came over  her
 face, as if she just then realized that she was alone with a stranger.
     "Alone? Is  there anyone  else around here?"  asked Levy.  A woman
 living alone in the wilderness was unheard of. 
     "No, we,  that is, my father,  made sure of that.  He, didn't want
 anyone around  here." She  looked away again.  Levy realized  that she
 had  not  wanted  to tell  him  that,  but  that  it slipped  out.  He
 prudently changed the subject. 
     "What of your mother?" Levy guessed that Sarah was about twenty.
     "She died  when I was  young." Sarah  brightened up at  the change
 of topic.  "I do  have three  brothers. They don't  live too  far from
 here. The nearest is only three days riding away." 
     Levy looked  out the window. The  last of the sunlight  was fading
 from the hilltops. "I suppose it's time to go back to sleep."
     Sarah stood. "After  your adventure I should think  you would want
 to sleep some  more." She put the bread into  the cupboard and started
 gathering the dishes off the table. 
     "I'm  afraid  that  compared  to  some of  the  things  I've  gone 
 through lately, that was merely exciting." Sarah looked at him. 
     "Oh?" 
     Levy helped  her gather the  tableware. This brought  more strange
 looks from Sarah. Levy noticed her expression. 
     "I don't like to be a burden when I'm a guest in someone's home."
     She  shook  her head.  "I'm  just  not used  to  seeing  a man  do 
 women's work." 
     "When you're  not married,  it's all your  work." Levy  had turned 
 to carry the dishes to the tub, and did not see her next expression.

     Levy awoke  the next morning  feeling stiff, but  otherwise sound.
 Sunlight was  coming in through  the slats,  telling him he  had slept
 late. He  got up  and looked around.  Sarah was not  in the  house. He 
 stepped outside.  He had  known from  the views  out the  windows that 
 the lake  was nearby, but  it soon became  obvious that the  house was
 built on  an island. The  island was a small  hill sticking up  out of
 the middle  of the lake.  The house was built  near the top.  The boat
 he had  seen was docked  at a  neat pier hidden  in a small  cove just
 below  the house.  The  house  turned out  to  be  fairly large.  When
 inside he had  only seen the main living room/kitchen,  with two doors
 leading off it. One  door he knew led to the room  Sarah slept in, the 
 other was  a covered walk  leading to the privy.  Now he saw  that the
 house  was almost  a hundred  feet  long. Levy's  parents were  fairly
 wealthy, and their  house was only thirty feet square.  This house was 
 over three times larger. 
     Levy  started to  walk  towards  the back  of  the  house. He  had 
 gotten  almost to  the back  when he  came across  an open  door. From 
 inside he  could smell  hot metal.  Levy stepped  inside. At  first he 
 couldn't  see anything,  but  as  his eyes  adjusted  he  could see  a
 reddish light coming  from further inside. He took a  step towards it, 
 and fell  over something  hard and heavy.  Metal objects  clattered to 
 the floor. He heard a gasp, and sudden light blinded him. 
     "Who's there?" It was Sarah, sounding frightened.
     "It's me,  Levy." Levy picked  himself up  out of the  debris. The
 light  revealed a  neat  smithy,  with an  incongruous  pile of  metal 
 scraps  just inside  the doorway.  Sarah  poked her  head around  from 
 behind what  seemed to  be a  wide brick pillar.  She was  holding her
 staff. She  stared at Levy  for a long moment.  He could see  that she 
 had been deeply  startled, and that a glimmer of  distrust was playing 
 on  her mind.  Then she  relaxed her  grip on  her staff  somewhat and 
 stepped into view.
     "You startled me." She smiled then. "Come. I'm working."
     Levy followed her  around the pillar. It turned out  to be a small
 forge. Her workbench  held a half-finished piece. Levy  studied it for
 a moment, but  couldn't quite tell what it was.  Sarah smiled when she 
 saw his puzzled look. 
     "I'm not sure myself  what it's going to be yet.  I started it out
 to go on a  knife handle, but I haven't made a staff  for a long time.
 I may put it on a staff end." 
     "Did you make  this?" Levy had picked up her  staff, which she had 
 leaned  up against  a  nearby  bench. It  was  about  four feet  long, 
 wooden with  the bottom and  top capped with  metal. The bottom  was a 
 simple steel  cup, but  the top was  not. It was  almost a  foot long, 
 gold  and  silver,  with  large crystal  inlays.  It  was  intricately 
 decorated in woodland motifs, although  in places it  was worn  almost 
 smooth.
     "I  made some,  and my  father made  some. He  was getting  sick a
 lot, and  he said  I should carry  a stick to  protect myself  when in 
 the woods. He insisted on helping design the headcap." 
     Levy hefted  it, and smacked it  against his hand. It  was sturdy,
 and quite  heavy. His arm  twitched when  the metal touched  his palm. 
 He  repeated the  action, harder,  and was  surprised when  his entire 
 right side  convulsed. He almost  dropped the  staff. He gave  Sarah a 
 shocked look. She smiled back.
     "That was  one of father's secrets.  He had many of  them. He said 
 that when  you hit  that kind  of crystal  just right,  strange things
 happen." Levy carefully leaned the staff back against the bench.
     "Where do you sell what you make?" 
     "I ride  to a  town a  few days  away. It's  not the  closest, but
 father insisted I go there, so that..." She stopped abruptly.
     "So that what?" Levy again sensed she was holding back.
     "He just insisted I go there." She bent over her work.
     Wanting to  change the  subject, Levy looked  around. There  was a
 table with some  completed works on it, knives,  plates, cups, spoons,
 and other  household items. He noticed  the lack of the  usual swords,
 daggers,  and pieces  of armor.  The largest  blade was  suitable only 
 for kitchen work.
     "Did you father teach you smithy?"
     "Yes. He  was a very  good smith. All  the people around  knew his 
 work. We lived very well." 
     "How do you get by now?"
     She  sounded cheerful.  "I have  everything  I need  here for  the
 most part. I  only sell things when  I need something I  can't make or
 grow myself, like fine fabric, or salt." 
     Levy  started to  bore of  the  conversation. "I'm  going to  look
 around, O.K.?" Levy started for the door.
     "All right." Sarah continued with her work. 
     Levy picked  up walking where he  had left off. The  woods pressed
 close to the house  on the north and east side.  When Levy rounded the 
 south-eastern corner, however,  he was in for a surprise.  What he saw 
 belonged  in a  large city,  not  on a  hillside  in the  middle of  a 
 wooded   wilderness.  He   saw  wheels   and  derricks,   pulleys  and
 bellcranks,  pipes and  carts, and  most of  them moving.  For a  long
 time all Levy could do was stare. 
     "Levy!" 
     Levy turned  around in time to  see Sarah burst around  the corner 
 of the house. She stopped dead when she saw him standing there. 
     Levy  looked back  at  the  amazing sight.  He  suddenly saw  some 
 order in  the mass  of hardware. His  eye fell on  a shack  roughly in 
 the middle of  the confusion. Above it a derrick  held a large pulley.
 A bellcrank  stood nearby, with  wooden rods  attached to it.  One rod
 disappeared into  some tall  grass, the other  into the  building. The
 crank  was slowly  rocking  back and  forth. His  eye  lighted upon  a 
 large  bucket sitting  in  front  of the  shack.  He  thought back  to
 Sarah's hesitancy  to discuss the outside  world, and to what  she had
 said by the forge. Suddenly he understood.
     Levy turned back toward where Sarah stood.
     "You have  a gold  mine here.  You don't want  anyone to  know, so
 you  don't  sell  near  here,  but several  days  away."  He  saw  the 
 acknowledgement  in her  eyes.  He  turned back  to  the shack.  "What 
 drives the mechanism?" 
     Sarah  didn't answer  for a  moment.  "There's a  windmill on  the 
 other end of  the island. We couldn't get enough  wind here, so Father
 ran rods across  the island. We use  it to pump the shaft  dry, and to 
 pull rock up out of the mine." 
     Levy walked down to  the shack. A path ran down  the hill to where 
 a large pile of  rock had been dumped into the  water. Levy looked out
 across the  lake. He  stared for  a few moments,  then walked  back up 
 the hill to where Sarah stood, quietly weeping. 
     "Your father made this lake, didn't he?" 
     Sarah silently nodded her head in agreement. 
     "Tell me about your father." 

     Three hours  later, Levy leaned back  in his chair. Sarah  was not
 looking at him or at anything in particular. 
     "So he and your brothers built all this over twenty years, right?" 
     "Yes.  Then my  brothers left,  moved away,  and then  three years
 ago,  Father died."  Sarah slowly  looked  around the  room. "I  still 
 expect to hear  him come tromping up  to the house in  the morning, or
 hear him  singing in  the shop.  I miss  him." They  sat silent  for a 
 moment. Then  Sarah stood and walked  to the hearth, where  she poured 
 herself more tea.
     "There's one  other thing I  miss Father for, something  I've been
 thinking about recently."  She walked back to the  table, a thoughtful 
 expression on  her face.  She sat  down, and  looked Levy  straight in 
 the face. "The  last batch of steel  he smelted is gone.  I have gold, 
 and silver,  but no  more steel. I  need steel to  make things,  and I
 want you to help me smelt some more."
     Startled, Levy didn't  say anything at first.  Steel-making was an 
 art that was  carefully guarded. Steel could do things  that mere iron
 would  not. The  need always  out-weighed the  supply, and  anyone who
 could  make steel  would  never want  for money.  On  the other  hand,
 steel  making  was neither  easy  nor  fast.  He  had not  planned  on 
 staying  in  the area  for  that  long.  He  paused at  that  thought,
 remembering why  he was even  in that area,  and realized that  he had
 nothing better to do. 
     "I'll help you."

     The next  day Levy and  Sarah loaded the  boat with some  food and
 tools, and  headed for the  outer banks of  the lake. The  first place
 they  landed was  the  place  where they  had  first  met. There  they
 collected Levy's lost  goods, including his sword.  To Levy's pleasant 
 surprise, they  also found his horse.  Levy pulled the saddle  off the
 animal, and  put the  saddle into  the boat.  As there  was no  way to 
 take the  horse with them,  Levy released it  to roam the  lake shore.
 They  then headed  for  the  opposite side  of  the  lake. There  they 
 paddled up  a small  river that  fed into the  lake. They  followed it
 for about  a mile. They  then pulled the boat  up onto the  shore, and 
 hid it  in a small  shelter made of  stones. Levy followed  Sarah into
 the trees.  They soon  reached the  bottom of a  cliff. There  was the
 furnace.  It  was thirty  feet  high,  with a  water-powered  conveyor 
 running up  the side. Ore sat  in a large  pile off to one  side. Levy 
 pointed to it.
     "Where did you find the ore?"
     Sarah pointed  up river. "There  is a bog  a few miles  up stream.
 We collected bog iron, and floated it downstream."
     Sarah explained  that the site  had been chosen for  it's nearness
 to a  vein of  limestone lying  exposed in the  cliff. Levy  and Sarah 
 started digging  the lime and hauling  it the few hundred  feet to the
 furnace.  By evening  they realized  that it  would take  several days
 for the two  of them to prepare the charge  for burning. They gathered 
 all their stuff, and returned to the island.
     The next  day they set  forth again. This  time they packed  for a
 stay of several  days. Sarah dropped Levy off on  the shore where they
 had left  his horse, and  then she started  for the other  shore. Levy
 caught his  horse, and spent the  morning riding to the  furnace. When
 he got  there he found  Sarah cleaning out a  small hut hidden  in the 
 trees near  the furnace.  By nightfall  the small  house was  warm and 
 relatively dry. 
     The next day  Levy spent cutting wood to fuel  the furnace. He cut 
 it on a  slope overlooking the river, upstream from  the furnace. When 
 he  trimmed the  logs sufficiently,  he  rolled them  into the  water, 
 where they  floated down to  where Sarah  was waiting by  the furnace.
 Levy joined  her, and  Sarah showed  him how  her father  and brothers
 had made a  device to pull the  logs from the water  using pulleys and 
 rope. By night several large logs lay by the furnace. 
     It was  quite dark  by the  time Levy approached  the hut  for the
 final time that  night. He leaned the axe Sarah  had given him against
 the wall,  and quietly pushed  the door  open. He stepped  inside onto 
 the soft  dirt floor,  and was  surprised to see  that Sarah  had hung
 blankets from the  ceiling to separate the small hut  into two halves. 
 A moments reflection  made him realize for the first  time in at least
 two days  that she was,  after all, a woman,  and in need  of privacy.
 He quietly  arranged his blankets on  his mat, blew out  the lamp, and 
 fell asleep. 

     The next  four days the  two spent  cutting wood and  digging lime 
 for  the  furnace. The  only  time  they saw  each  other  was in  the
 morning and  in the  evening. By the  time the eve  of the  fourth day 
 drew near,  the sky was  heavy with clouds.  Levy had just  leaned his
 axe and maul against  the wall for the night when  the first drops hit
 his hand. He stepped inside, and the rain came down.
     All night and most  of the next day it rained.  The river grew too 
 high to  use, and water  cascaded down the  cliff face where  they had
 been digging  lime. All there  was to do was  to sit inside  and talk. 
 They talked of steel,  and how to make it, and of  metal, and of wood,
 of rock, and  gold, and commerce, and politics, and  of as many topics 
 as they  could find to  discuss. Levy found  in Sarah a  companion who
 was as interested in  life as he was, and who, for  a woman growing up 
 in an isolated place, was surprisingly well versed in human nature. 
     A  few  hours before  sunset  the  rain  stopped. Levy  and  Sarah 
 ventured out,  Sarah to  gather some  wild food,  and Levy  to inspect 
 the damage done  to their designs. He  walked up to the  lime pit, and
 found it  a little bigger,  but otherwise untouched. He  inspected the 
 pulleys and  the water wheel,  and found  them little worse  for wear.
 He  inspected  the   furnace,  and  his  stack  of   wood,  and  found
 everything in  good shape.  He walked  back to the  hut as  dark fell, 
 with  a greater  respect for  the  workmanship of  Sarah's father  and 
 brothers.  He quietly  stepped  inside  the small  hut.  His lamp  was
 dark, but Sarah's was  lit. As he stepped into the  shack, he saw that
 the blankets separating  her side from his were slightly  askew. As he
 stood there,  he could see her  through the opening, as  she undressed 
 for bed. Quietly,  so as not to  make any sound, he  stepped closer to 
 the curtain.  He took hold  of the edge with  his hand, and,  with one
 movement,  pulled the  curtain the  rest of  the way  closed. He  then 
 undressed, and went to bed. 
     The morning  brought warm  air and  bright sunshine.  Levy stepped 
 out of  the hut and  stretched. It was such  days that made  him yearn
 for adventure.  Sarah was  still in  bed, sleeping  in late  after the
 previous day's  inactivity. Levy picked up  the axe from where  he had
 set it before  the rain started. He discovered to  his dismay that the 
 wooden  handle was  wet.  He mentally  chided  himself for  carelessly
 exposing the precious  instrument to the harsh  elements. He inspected
 the axe  head, and  found to  his relief  that there  was no  trace of 
 rust on  the metal. When  he hefted  the maul, however,  he discovered
 that  the  cutting  blade  was orange  with  oxide.  Mentally  kicking
 himself,  he started  for  the wood  pile, and  then  paused. He  once 
 again lifted the tools to look at them. 
     Sarah was surprised  when she stepped out of the  hut to find Levy 
 squatting by the  fire. She walked over  to see what he  was doing. He 
 was holding  the maul  head in the  fire. He had  removed it  from its 
 handle, and was  supporting it with a smaller  branch threaded through
 the mounting hole. As she approached, he turned to face her. 
     "Come here. I want to show you something."
     She stood  beside him, and he  turned back to the  fire. He pulled
 the smoking  metal from the  flame, and rested it  on a flat  rock. He 
 then lifted  a smaller rock  with a small  depression on its  face. In 
 the depression was  a small pool of  dirty water, that had  a crust of
 white powder  around it.  As she  watched, he dripped  a few  drops of 
 the  liquid on  the hot  metal.  It hissed,  and as  she watched,  the
 fluid ate a small pit in the iron. 
     "Now watch  this." Levy  said as  he exchanged  the maul  head for
 the axe  head, which Sarah  saw that he had  also placed in  the fire. 
 He dripped  the same  fluid on the  axe head, but  when the  water was 
 finally evaporated,  there was merely  a small  spot of white  scum on 
 the metal, with  no other adverse affects. Levy turned  back to Sarah, 
 a triumphant look on his face. 
     "So?"  Sarah   looked  puzzled  for   a  moment.  Then   her  face 
 brightened.  "Oh| I  see.  Father  made that  maul  a  long time  ago, 
 before he  changed the formula|"  Seeing the look  of noncomprehension 
 of  Levy's face,  she elaborated.  "When I  was small  he changed  the 
 formula for  the steel.  None of  his new steel  rusts or  corrodes or
 anything.  That's why  we  hid  out here  in  the  forest. Father  was 
 afraid someone would try to steal the secret."
     Levy looked  back at the axe  head. The edge was  shining dully in 
 the morning sun. "Are you going to show me the secret?"
     "I probably  will. Father didn't show  me how to make  steel until
 the last  few years of his  life. I don't  know any other way  to make
 it." With  that she  turned to  the morning's  tasks, leaving  Levy to 
 wonder, and to rebuild the disassembled tools. 

     After several  more days of work,  two of which were  used to burn
 the wood down  to charcoal, the charge was finally  ready to go. After
 digging  the lime  for  the flux,  Sarah had  woven  more baskets  for 
 carrying ore, lime,  and charcoal up to the mouth  of the furnace. The 
 two of  them had rebuilt  the troughs for the  melt to flow  into when
 it  was  done,  and  Levy  had finished  some  minor  repairs  to  the
 conveyor mechanism and  the water-powered blower to  fire the furnace.
 Finally all was in readiness, and Sarah lit the fire.
     The  several   hours  that  followed  were   anticlimactic,  spent 
 waiting  for  the  fire  to  build.  When  the  fire  finally  caught,
 however,  Levy and  Sarah  found  themselves the  proud  parents of  a 
 monster. Levy  climbed to the top  of the furnace, to  feed the flame,
 while  Sarah stayed  on the  bottom  to pass  Levy fuel  and ore.  The
 smoke billowing  out of the  top made Levy long  for an extra  pair of 
 lungs, and  the heat  emanating from  the bottom  made Sarah  wish she 
 could  strip off  her  blouse  like Levy  could.  They  fed the  fire,
 checked the mix, and  fed the fire some more. The  day wore slowly on,
 as their piles of ore, lime, and charcoal dwindled quickly to nothing. 
     Twilight found  Levy still at the  top of the furnace,  feeding in
 the last  of the lime.  He dumped a bucket  of rock into  the furnace, 
 and hooked  the empty container to  the return line. He  turned to get
 the next bucket, only to find instead a smiling if sweaty Sarah. 
     "You're the  best thing I've seen  all day." Levy exclaimed  as he 
 helped her out.
     "I  wanted  to  take  a  look,  and to  help  you  with  the  last 
 buckets." While Levy  reached for the next container,  she looked down
 into the  dark, smoking pit  that was the  mouth of the  furnace. Levy
 lifted the bucket  up to the chute,  to pour it into  the inferno, and 
 then stopped. 
     "Hey| What's  this?" Levy reached  into the basket and  pulled out 
 a large black crystal. The basket was full of such crystals.
     Sarah was grinning from ear to ear.  "That,  Levy,  is my father's 
 secret." 
     Sarah reached  in the basket  and selected another chunk  of rock.
 This  one  was greenish  in  color.  "Father  found that,"  She  said, 
 indicating Levy's  crystal, "in  an outcropping on  the other  side of 
 the lake.  He thought  it might  be coal,  so he  brought it  over and 
 tried to make  steel with it. It  didn't burn, and he  forgot about it 
 for years.  This," she said, tossing  the green rock in  her hand, "we 
 find  in our  mine,  with copper.  Father knew  that  silver could  be
 alloyed with  gold, to  make it  harder, so  he tried  alloying silver 
 and  things with  the iron,  to make  better iron.  Nothing seemed  to 
 work, as  he told me. He  would often tell  me this story, when  I was
 young, before  I would  go to bed.  Then one day  he tried  this green 
 rock,  and the  iron  got harder.  He  thought at  first  that it  was
 copper, but he  remembered that copper would not alloy  with the iron.
 Then, later,  he tried that,"  indicating Levy's black rock,  "and the 
 steel wouldn't rust."
     Levy took the  green rock from Sarah, and set  it aside along with
 the black crystal.  He and Sarah then dumped the  rest of the buckets, 
 containing  the different  ores, into  the fire.  Levy then  collected
 his specimens, and the two rode the return line down.
     It was black  out when Levy finally punched through  the baked mud
 at  the bottom  of the  furnace, and  allowed the  white-hot steel  to
 pour  out into  the  troughs. He  and Sarah  then  retreated from  the
 intense heat, as  the metal flowed out into the  molds waiting for it. 
 All that night  and all the next  day they allowed the  metal to cool. 
 While they  waited they cleaned  the slag out  of the furnace  and put
 anything  that  could rot  into  the  special storage  places  Sarah's 
 father had  made. Over the  next few  days they laboriously  sawed the
 steel  into pieces  small enough  to carry  and rowed  it over  to the 
 island.  They had  just  gotten the  last few  pieces  stored when  it 
 again started to rain. 

     Later  that  evening Levy  was  looking  out through  the  slatted 
 window at  the patterns the  rain made on  the lake. Behind  him Sarah
 worked on an ornament for a spoon handle. 
     "How  often do  you see  other people?"  Levy asked,  still facing
 out the window.
     "Not very often." 
     Levy walked  over to where  Sarah was  sitting. He pulled  a chair
 up beside her and sat down. 
     "Don't you ever get lonely out here?"
     "Very."  Sarah looked  away  for a  moment. "Why  is  it that  you 
 never married?"
     Levy leaned back in his chair.
     "I don't know.  It's not through lack of opportunity.  I have been
 the object  of many young  girls' eyes. I just  never had the  time to 
 properly court  any of them. There  always seemed to be  better things 
 to do.  That, and the fact  that I must  marry inside my own  clan, or
 lose  my  inheritance."  Levy  noticed  that  Sarah  seemed  to  frown 
 slightly when he said that. "Have you ever taken a fancy to any men?" 
     Sarah smiled  as she looked away.  "Only the one I'm  talking to." 
 Levy blushed  a little, and  she continued. "I've never  really gotten
 to know any others, except my brothers."
     Silence reigned for a long moment. Sarah broke the silence.
     "What is the name of your clan?" 
     "Barel. We come  from a man named Eli Barel,  who was granted some
 land by  a lord  for having saved  his kingdom from  a war.  Eli Barel
 came from a  country away south, one that I've  visited twice. I could
 marry  one of  them, but  they are  too strange  for me,  too foreign.
 What clan or descent do you have?"
     Sarah  frowned, then  stood  and walked  over to  a  shelf over  a 
 window. She brought down a silver plate, with engraving on it. 
     "This  is my  family  crest. Father  said we  also  came from  the 
 south, but  then just about everything  is south when you're  this far 
 north.  I've only  once met  someone else  from our  clan, and  he had 
 come  north just  to tell  my father  that Grandfather  had died,  and
 that Father  was now  the new  Elder. Father refused.  He said  he was
 too old."
     "That sounds  familiar for  some reason.  I may  have met  some of 
 your  relatives in  my  travels." Levy  looked at  the  crest. It  was
 complex, but  the main symbol  was that of  a cogwheel. The  more Levy 
 looked at  the plate the  more familiar  it looked, yet  without quite 
 revealing its origin to him.
     Levy drew  his knife. He  gave it to Sarah,  so she could  look at 
 it. On it was the Barel crest, also complex, with a compass on it.
     "This was  granted to Eli  Barel at the  same time he  was granted 
 the  village I  come from.  Our family  had a  crest before  that, but 
 I've only ever seen it once."
     Sarah looked at  it for a moment, then handed  it back. "I've only 
 ever  seen one  other crest,  the one  belonging to  the mayor  of the
 nearest town. We  engraved it on a beer stein  for him." Sarah giggled
 at that.  "He probably  sees it every  day. He drinks  a lot  of beer. 
 Listen, I'm tired. I'm going to go to bed now. Sleep well." 
     She put the plate  back on the shelf, and then  walked to her room
 and closed the  door. Levy sat alone  and thought for a  bit, then, as 
 the last  of the sunshine  disappeared, doused  the lamps and  went to 
 bed himself. 

     Levy awoke  the next morning  to find  Sarah shaking him.  The sun
 had yet to come up, and it was raining very hard. 
     Sarah looked anxious.  "You've got to help me. The  water level in 
 the lake is  rising. We have to  open the floodgates, or  the dam will
 be  overwhelmed."  She handed  him  a  large overcoat.  "Don't  bother
 putting on  your clothes. This is  very warm, and you'll  just get hot
 with the others on. You'll need this for the rain." 
     Levy  stepped into  the coat  and followed  her out.  They climbed 
 down the  hill and into  the boat. The  dock was already  under water.
 They rowed  to the dam. The  rain made bailing a  requirement, but the
 wind was to their  back, and they made good time.  It was just getting 
 light by the time they reached the dam. 
     Levy followed Sarah  up the dam face. The cold  and wet had driven 
 the  dullness from  his  mind,  and, for  some  reason,  the image  of 
 Sarah's  family  crest  kept   running  through  his  head.  Strangely
 enough, the image in  his mind was not that of a  silver plate, but of 
 a  colorful drawing  in an  old book.  Hard as  he tried,  however, he 
 could not  force himself to  remember where he  had seen the  book. He 
 got so  involved in trying to  remember that he found  himself lagging 
 far behind Sarah. He hurried to catch up.
     Trees  grew on  the slope,  planted by  Sarah's father  to conceal
 the  artificial nature  of  the structure.  At the  top  was a  raised 
 walkway connecting the  floodgates, with the first of the  two gates a 
 few feet from where  Sarah and Levy stepped on the  walk. Sarah ran to
 it and started to crank the windlass to raise the first gate. 
     "You open the other one." She pointed to the far end of the walk.
     Levy  ran to  the far  end.  There he  found a  similar setup.  He 
 seized the  crank and  started turning, images  of paper  and bindings
 still  running past  his  mind's eye.  He hadn't  made  more than  two 
 revolutions when  he was startled  by a loud  roar. He looked  up just 
 in time to see  a large section of cliff break off  and slide into the 
 water a few hundred yards away. He looked back at Sarah. 
     "That  happens every  so often."  She shouted  to him.  She turned 
 back to cranking, as did he.
     He managed  to get  the gate  partway open.  Then the  whole world
 seemed  to fall  out  from under  him.  A great  wave,  caused by  the
 rockslide, crashed  into the walkway and  carried it and him  over the
 face of the  dam. Levy was submerged. When he  surfaced, he found part
 of  the walk  floating  near him,  and he  climbed  aboard. He  looked
 around. He was  floating away from the dam with  increasing speed, and 
 was equidistant from  both shores. On top of the  dam Sarah stood, her 
 hands covering  her mouth.  He waved to  her, to show  her he  was all
 right. Hesitantly,  she waved  back. A  sudden dip  then threw  him on
 his  face. He  struggled  back to  his hands  and  knees when  another 
 threw him back down  again. When he finally looked back  at the top of
 the dam, Sarah was not there. 

     An  afternoon  three months  later  Levy  was riding  through  the 
 woods once more.  The horse was one he had  recently purchased, as was
 all his tack  and most of his  equipment. It was nearing  dusk, and he
 saw  a  light  shining  through  the trees  up  ahead.  Cautiously  he
 approached it.  It turned out  to be  another traveller, relying  on a 
 fire to  keep the wolves  away. The  stranger seemed eager  for Levy's
 company  when it  was offered,  so Levy  made camp  with the  man. The 
 next day, over breakfast, they told each other of their destinations.
     Levy  told the  man only  some of  what Sarah  had told  him about 
 herself, but the  man was sympathetic to Levy's plight,  and seemed to
 want to help.
     "I'm a  trader, but  I don't  know of any  woman dealing  in these
 parts. I  am a little out  of my way, though,  so I will keep  my ears 
 open. Where did  you say you were headed?" The  stranger paused in the
 middle of a block of cheese. 
     "I'm headed  for the  next village,  and the  next, and  the next, 
 until winter comes, or  I find her. I floated for  three days before I 
 could  get to  shore, so  I figure  she lives  in this  area. I  don't
 remember all  the tributaries and  forks in  the river I  hit, though, 
 so I'm  not sure exactly where  to look." Levy shrugged  and stared at 
 the fire, poking it with a stick. 
     "A  woman  selling carved  utensils,  living  alone. I'll  try  to 
 remember that. Anything else?"
     Levy leaned over  and grabbed his pack. From it  he pulled a piece
 of fine  leather. He unrolled  it slowly, carefully. Inscribed  on it,
 in bright colors, was a crest.
     "If you see anything with this crest on it, you've found her."
     As he held  it up for the  trader to see, Levy  fingered the small
 signature on  the lower right  corner. It was  the name of  the Dargon
 court historian, who  kept family records from many  areas, even areas 
 to the far  south. While he was recovering from  his harrowing journey
 downstream,  and in  the weeks  that followed,  as he  worked to  earn
 enough money  to buy another horse,  Levy had thought hard  about that 
 crest  that Sarah  had shown  him. When  he finally  got enough  money 
 together, he  had journeyed south  to Dargon,  where he had  found the 
 court historian.  Together they  had searched  the records.  It wasn't 
 until Levy  had set eyes  on the  old book on  the top shelf  that the 
 memories had  come flooding  back. By  the time  he found  the correct 
 page,  his eyes  were almost  blinded  with tears  of anxiousness  and
 joy. Levy  hadn't seen  that page  for years, since  the time  when he
 had made  a thorough  search of  the records  at his  father's behest. 
 Levy still  remembered the  excitement he had  felt, those  many years 
 ago, when he had at last found the original Barel family crest. 
     After  the  trader  had  committed  the  design  to  memory,  Levy
 carefully put it  back in his pack, broke camp,  and saddled up. After 
 thanking  the  trader, Levy  rode  off.  The  trader watched  him  go,
 shaking  his head  sympathetically.  He then  went  about washing  his
 kettle and  breaking camp. That done,  he paused for a  few minutes to 
 polish his  wares and study  the goods he  had swapped. He  was almost 
 ready to  put them  all away  when he stopped  cold. He  reached down, 
 and with  trembling hands picked up  a spoon, wooden with  an ornately
 carved golden handle.  He stared at it for a  long moment, then leaped
 to his  feet. He stuffed the  other goods quickly into  the sack, tied 
 the sack  to his horse,  and kicked out the  fire. He saddled  up, and
 rode off hard in pursuit of Levy. 
                         -Jim Owens  <J1O@PSUVM> 

         <>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<> 

                     Ceda the Executioner: Chapter 6 
     Though the  meal that they  had just completed weighed  heavily in 
 their stomachs,  they wasted  no time in  getting through  the forest. 
 Aroth knew  of a  secret road  used only  by the  Wood Elves  that cut 
 across the  forest lengthwise  which took them  north to  the Ruirsian
 barren country. 
     Galloping over  the moist green  grass and  led by the  rich light 
 of the  almost full moon that  hung somberly overhead, they  rode many
 leagues. Off in  the distance on their left, Nuum-Deaon  jutted out of
 the  emptiness  effectively  hiding  its  brother  fortress  somewhere 
 behind the cover of its eery stone walls. 

     The next  thirteen days  drew by  quickly. In  this time  they had
 ridden  north to  Cramstrock where  they replenished  their provisions
 and   employed  Ceda's   wingless  dragon   mount,  Melgon   to  their 
 convocation. Then turning  to the south they left  Cramstrock and rode
 out into  the desert before turning  east, traveling north of  the Aun 
 Hills along  the border  of the  Plime Sea to  the southern  border of 
 the Voidland. A few miles to the north lay Weuyrt, land of forests. 
     They  had reached  the border  by  dusk the  fourteenth day.  Ceda
 pulled  Melgon to  an abrupt  halt  as Aroth  rode up  beside him.  He
 stared off  into the  swampland that  lay before  him and  wondered at 
 his fate. Would he return unscathed from the Caves? Would he survive?
     The jungle that  met the land far in the  distance over the swampy
 plain of the  Voidland's countryside was not so distant  now. It would
 be infested  with bands of  Orcs, Nuadrin and Hobgoblins,  all deadly.
 The Giants  that lived in Weuyrt  would be the worst  when met. Though 
 some of them  would be friendly, and subsequently a  good ally, others
 would not... 
     If  they survived  the trek  through  the dense  jungle then  they
 would have  to enter  the Caves;  Hardly a reward  or even  any relief 
 from the  previously perilous journey  they will have  just completed.
 Both  the travelers  realized what  the  chances of  success would  be
 though none dared say it.
     Ceda  spurred Melgon  to  a laggard  trot  entering the  Voidland.
 They could  already feel the humidity  of the jungle burning  in their
 nostrils and  smothering their  faces; even the  land they  now passed
 was wet  with moister  and dense vegetation  was beginning  to thicken 
 around them. 

     They  had  not  ridden  far  into the  Voidland  when  they  first
 noticed  a  single rider  approaching  them  from  the north.  He  was 
 galloping toward  them at a great  pace ignoring the murky  water that 
 splashed  upon him  soiling his  apparel  and the  dangerous moors  he 
 nearly missed in his haste.
     As he neared  them they could see he was  Human. Though arrayed in 
 the blue  and yellow raiment  typical to  that of a  Ruirsian soldier,
 he wore  no armor  or helm. His  face was bold  and concerned  and his 
 long  red hair  flew proudly  behind  him in  the strong  face of  the
 wind. He wore  a sword at his side that  bounced along nonchalantly as 
 his horse galloped over the scabrous landscape.
     He pulled his  horse to a stop two dragon  lengths before them and
 bowed  to them  from his  horse. "Hail  travelers! I  am Azzar,  royal 
 scout of Caahah, servant to his Majesty Threythus II. My greetings." 
     "Greetings. I am Ceda of No-Al Ben," replied Ceda.
     "And I Aroth, Lord of Carne," said Aroth in turn. 
     Azzar bowed  again hearing  Aroth's title. "I  have news  from the 
 north  in  Weuyrt, since  that  is  where your  destination  seemingly 
 lies, and even if it does not."
     "It is," said Ceda.  "What news of the wild lands  that lay on the
 road from Arnmere do you bear? Is the way ahead safe?"
     "Nay," cried the  scout in dismay. "The wilder  Giants have broken 
 our will  attacking in full  might. They  have driven our  forces west
 across the  jungles toward  the Plime  Sea. I ride  for Caahah  now to 
 inform his  majesty that Weuyrt  has fallen  to their hordes.  Even as 
 we now speak many pursue me on foot and are not far behind." 
     "A  small band  has  followed  your horse  all  the  way from  the
 shadows of Arnmere?"  asked Aroth in alarm. "Do they  fly? How do they
 follow you at such a speed as that which your horse can muster?" 
     "It is  worse than  that. The  news of Weuyrt's  fall is  nigh two
 suns passed.  I camped on  the borders to see  how far the  host would
 advance and  it is sorry news,  but they come in  numbers uncounted to 
 the Voidland.  At the speed  they are  traveling now, they  will reach
 the very gates of Caahah before five more suns will fall."
     "This  is grave  news indeed,"  said Aroth.  "What of  the men  in
 Weuyrt? How many were there and how many survived?"
     "We were  nigh twenty  thousand strong  when they  attacked. Among
 us were  many Bilfnuinians, but they  use no horse in  battle for they
 fight with  heavy axes.  They were the  first to fall  to the  rage of 
 the  accursed  giants;  I  fear  none  survived  -  a  heavy  blow  to
 Threythus to lose men of that worth. 
     "Those of  us upon steeds fought  on when the Axemen  fell, but we
 were pushed back.  They came from the  north and the south  as well as 
 the west forcing  us eastward into the jungle. Most  stayed and fought
 on though  some of us rode  for the borders;  I was the only  one that 
 made  it past  the beasts  unscathed.  I arrived  at the  edge of  the
 Voidland yesterday  morning riding through  the night to  escape their
 advancing powers."
     "This  is grave  news  indeed!" agreed  Ceda with  a  cry of  deep
 despair. "Where  have those that rode  east gone? Is there  some place
 of refuge for them to take shelter?" 
     "There is  none," said the  scout lowering  his head. I  fear that
 if they  have not yet  left the jungles,  they never will...  though I
 may be mistaken." 
     "These  times  are  indeed  grave.  You  bring  a  heavy  blow  to 
 Threythus." said Ceda. "You do not even know how many approach?"
     "Impossible to say.  The jungle hides their numbers  and they come 
 from all  directions; More  than I  have ever seen  before. We  had no 
 inkling as  to the numbers  that hid thus long  in the shadows  of the
 accursed  holes of  hell where  they burrow.  Look!" He  cried turning 
 and pointing  back to  the jungle  across the  Voidland. "As  we speak 
 they enter the swamps before the face of Ruirse!"
     They  looked northward  and  to  their dismay  they  began to  see 
 first  ten then  a  thousand and  finally more  than  they could  even 
 begin  to count.  There  were Orcs,  Nuadrin,  Giants, Hobgoblins  and 
 many  other horrid  beasts  sweeping  like a  deadly  plague over  the
 muddy land  between the borders.  They passed over the  plain covering
 it like  the shadow of a  cloud violently suppressing the  rays of the
 sun; an  onslaught so  large that  is may have  rivaled even  the Lost
 Army of the Desert. 
     "Come  now! There  is  no  chance of  you  reaching wherever  your
 destination was. Our best  - our ONLY chance is to  ride for Caahah to
 the south and  help defend the city from the  inevitable attack," said
 Azzar in a frenzy. "Let us ride now and may our speed be great!"
     Aroth looked  to Ceda and then  back at the advancing  horde. "Let
 us  go.  There  will be  a  safer  time  and  we will  then  make  the 
 journey." He wheeled  his horse around and nodded to  Azzar. Then Ceda 
 pulled  on Melgon's  reins and  they  turned and  sped back  southward 
 toward Caahah to warn of the attack. 

     They reached  the city by the  second day after they  had fled the 
 Voidland. It  was well  fortified around the  walls and  many soldiers
 were  there lining  the  city  streets and  filling  the cities  inns. 
 Trenches had  been dug at  set intervals  around the proximity  of the 
 wall that surrounded the  city and a few men sat  in them reclining on
 the small stools set aside for the watchers. 
     Azzar stopped  outside the walls  to warn  the men while  Ceda and
 Aroth continued on  through the gate to tell of  the assured peril. As
 they rode into the  ruins of the once proud city,  Ceda pulled hard on
 Melgon's reins stopping  the dragon suddenly in the center  of an open
 area and dismounted  as Melgon glanced sidelong at the  assassin in an 
 unenchanted way  for the abrupt  halt. Aroth also dismounted  and left
 his horse  next to the  dragon as he  departed leaving the  two mounts 
 sighing in  anticipation of the peaceful  rest they were about  to get 
 after the tiresome miles of endless riding.
     Ceda  was  gone  by  the  time Melgon  had  settled  down  hastily
 searching for  the commander  of the  army stationed  in the  city. He 
 ran  up to  a  man that  was  standing outside  a  large tent,  "Hail, 
 soldier of  Ruirse. I  am Ceda  of Cramstrock, greetings.  I am  on an
 urgent mission  and must  speak with the  king if he  is here,  or who
 ever is commanding the host of the city!"
     "Greetings, Traveler  of the Desert.  The king is here,"  said the 
 man  eying Ceda  wanderingly. "He  is  at his  palace holding  council 
 with King Ballison the Young of Caffthorn." 
     "Ballison? Has he  brought with him a host?"  asked Ceda beginning
 to gain confidence in the cities forces.
     "Aye. He  has brought  with him  a mighty  army five  thousand men 
 from from beyond the desert and there may be more from No-Al Ben." 
     "Are there  any from the Elf  Kingdoms of Carne or  Learis?" Asked
 Aroth coming up behind.
     "Nay," said  the man.  "And I  doubt there will  be, I  have heard
 none talk of it."
     "Good enough," sighed Ceda. "Where is the palace?"
     The  man pointed  at a  tall but  slender tower  that rose  from a
 point in the  distance. "There," he said. "At the  center of the city;
 just follow the road."
     Ceda bowed slightly.  "Scueney Tavaar du sablea,"  he said leaving 
 at a  run for the  palace as  Aroth repeated the  same to the  man and 
 sprang after Ceda following close behind him. 
     "And to you!" yelled the man after them with a gratifying look. 
     From  the gates,  the  street  wound upwards  around  the city  in
 great  circles in  the  fashion roads  do  going up  a  steep hill  or 
 mountain. As  they ran through  inner city  area, they could  see that 
 the  winding road  was laden  with men  ready for  battle. There  were
 many  of the  men of  Caffthorn about,  they sat  with one  another in 
 groups  talking about  things  from their  distant country,  sometimes 
 laughing  out loud  or throwing  their  heads back  and letting  their 
 long  black hair  fall loosely  down  their backs.  Continuing up  the 
 winding road  toward the tower  they also saw many  Caahahian soldiers 
 along with  the hardy Axemen from  the proud city Bilfneuin  along the 
 crowded alleys  and roof  tops, resting while  they were  still safely
 many miles from any of the fighting.
     Upon reaching  the center  of the  city, the road  let out  into a
 single  lane that  ran around  the  palace ending  in another  circlet 
 where the  northern part of the  drive housed the palace  entrance. As 
 Ceda  and Aroth  ran up  they saw  two proud  looking guards  standing
 outside the large  iron bars that blocked the way  into the courtyard. 
 They stood  separated, one on each  side of the massive  gate and wore
 dark blue  tunics with a yellow  bars crossing the center  at a slight
 angle.  The armor  they wore  over  their arms  and legs  was a  shiny
 black  metal,  made  in  the  same material  as  the  Elven  Rings  of 
 Nobility.  Over the  armor they  wore  dark blue  capes with  attached
 hoods  that hung  loosely down  their backs  and on  their heads  were
 helms of gold.  At their sides were great axes  that rested heavily on 
 the ground, for  these guards were from the stalwart  southern city of 
 Bilfneuin. These were Axemen. 
     There they stopped  as Ceda addressed one of  the men. "Greetings! 
 I am  Ceda of No-Al Ben.  My companion is  a Lord of Carne,  Aroth, he
 is called. We seek urgent audience with King Threythus." 
     "It is  not every merchant  that gets to  see the king!"  said the 
 soldier. "He is  now in council with the Lord  of Caffthorn and cannot
 be disturbed."
     "I'll not  be called a merchant  by a simple soldier!"  Said Aroth
 angrily. "Now  tell your busy king  that I, Aroth of  Carne and cousin 
 of Rakine  and Rackins of the  Elves, seek audience with  him now! And
 rue you will the day you denied me that!" 
     "Rue  indeed," smiled  the guard  looking at  his companion.  "And
 why is that, little Elf?" 
     "Because a  muster of Arnmere  is but  four days north  and coming 
 fast!" said  Aroth. "And I  am getting tired  or this idle  talk. Time
 is  short as  are our  tempers, now  tell the  king that  we seek  his
 presence and await his bidding." 
     The guard turned calling  for a herald. Then he told  a man in the 
 gate to  inform King  tell Threythus  of his  new arrivals.  "The king
 has been notified,"  said the soldier. "And now I  hope you will allow 
 me  to  continue my  watch  in  peace?"  he added  sarcastically.  The 
 Axemen  of Bilfneuin  were not  tolerant,  though they  were known  to
 have a sense  of humor. Would the  king of Ruirse be that  way? He was 
 from Bilfneuin, though much older.

     It was  a short wait  until the herald  returned to the  gates. He
 spoke a few short words to the guards and then stepped back. 
     The  guards  then gripped  small  unseen  horns from  below  their
 capes  and  blew  them  one  after  the  other.  Then  two  thunderous 
 clanging  noises broke  the  air as  the massive  gate  was raised  by 
 internal winches;  then as  Ceda and  Aroth entered  and the  gate was
 let fall again with a tremendous slam.
     "The king  bids the travelers  enter in  peace. He will  meet with
 them  now,"  said  the  herald  approaching  them  in  the  courtyard.
 "Please come this way."
     Inside  the walls  of the  palace, the  tower that  Ceda had  seen 
 from  the gate  seemed  much larger.  It was  built  of square  shaped 
 stones  set orderly  on  one another  rising from  a  large the  round 
 structure into  a slender and delicate  tower high above. Some  of the 
 larger blocks near  the bottom of the structure were  then carved with
 delicate  figures that  had  all but  wasted away  from  the years  of 
 weathering while the higher  ones were  stained to  a light  color for
 adornment.
     At the  base of the  large building  was another heavy  door; this
 one of stone.  Next to it on  either side were two small  holes to see
 out of and above the door was a narrow window. 
     They went through  the door into the first floor  of the tower led
 by the  herald. Inside the hall  they now stood were  many fine chairs
 and tables  lining the  majestic walls.  Above them  hung many  of the 
 old  swords and  beautiful armor  used in  ages long  past and  before
 them was a  long room with a wooden floor  and stone ceiling supported 
 by an occasional  pillar. Down the hall  on the right side  was a door 
 with  four more  guards  standing  at alert.  Two  of  them wore  gray
 tunics  with  a  red  gem  painted in  the  center;  these  were  from 
 Caffthorn. The  other two wore the  blue and yellow colors  of Ruirse.
 Through this door they were led by the herald. 

     In the room there  were two people. One was a  young man, tall and
 strong with  long dark  hair. At his  side rested a  heavy axe  with a 
 black metal  blade and handle  made with  the grey wood  of Caffthorn.
 Near  the  base of  the  black  blade, an  imbedded  gem  glowed in  a
 pleasant purple. 
     The  second man  was  much  older. His  hair  was  gray and  short 
 hanging  down no  further than  the base  of his  neck. His  once tall 
 body was  now permanently bent  forward in a cramped  position showing
 the  definite signs  of  his old  age.  He wore  the  blue and  yellow 
 raiment of a Ruirsian, though he wore no weapon.
     Both  men were  standing  by a  large table  as  they entered  and
 turned  to  greet  them. The  older  of  the  two  men glared  at  the 
 travelers for a  brief moment. "Greetings, Ceda and  Aroth from afar!" 
 he said.  "I am King  Threythus II. This  is Ballison the  Young, King
 of Caffthorn.  The herald tells us  that you have urgent  news for us?
 Well then, be quick for time is short and news of worth is rare."
     Aroth stepped forward,  "I am Aroth, cousin to King  Rakine of the
 wood of  Carne and I,  nobleman of Elves," he  held his hand  aloft so
 the dark  gold about his  finger showed in  a radiant light.  "Bid you
 greetings and bring you news of the north."
     "We  have men  beyond the  Voidland. many  scouts and  warriors of
 Caahah and Bilfneuin.  If there is news then they  should have brought
 it.  What is  this news?"  asked Threythus.  "And how  do you  come to 
 know of it?" 
     "War,"  said Ceda  also coming  forward.  "War comes  to the  very 
 walls Caahah. A  great host has taken  all Weuyrt and none  of our men 
 remain. Only  Azzar, scout of  Caahah, made  it back to  the Voidland.
 The rest,"  he said  in a  low voice,  "will come  not again  from the 
 vile land of forests. 
     "As we  approached the borders of  Weuyrt on business of  our own, 
 we met him in  flight from the beasts. It was there  we saw them. They 
 swept  over the  land at  a great  pace. I  fear they  have with  them 
 great might."
     "This is  grave news to  us, they  were good men."  cried Ballison
 distressingly. "What  of the marshal  from Arnmere? How many  come and
 how fast?"
     "Their numbers  were too  many for  us to  count," said  Ceda, "It 
 was greater  a host than  I have  ever seen and  we fled ere  they all 
 had left  the cover of the  trees. They should reach  Caahah by fourth 
 sun falling,  fifth at the most.  Prepare your men, for  even the city
 walls may not hold against their might!" 
     Threythus  walked over  to Aroth.  "Can your  people help  us?" he 
 said gripping the Elf's shoulders.
     "Aye," said  Aroth. "They must be  stopped here. Have one  of your 
 men  ride for  Dhernis, give  him this,  "Aroth removed  his ring  and 
 placed it  in Threythus's hand. "Tell  the scout to take  the Ships of
 Tearny and sail  for Perstanie of the Learis Islands.  There he should
 ask for  help from me  and give them  this ring should  any disbelieve 
 his word. 
     "In the meanwhile  I ride for the  Wood of Carne to  seek the help
 of my  cousin Rakine, and  hopefully shall  return with a  host worthy
 of the battle." 
     Threythus bowed low,  "I thank you, Aroth of Carne,  and may Sarve 
 speed your horse with the swiftness of the wind!" 
     Aroth bowed  to Threythus. "And  now I must  go, for much  time is
 lost and now only haste is our ally. Farewell, Ceda. 

                    'uentu descern shyen svequ seju!'"

     Ceda smiled as Aroth turned and departed.
     "We must  now prepare for the  battle and send a  messenger to the
 Elf Islands before  any more time is lost!" said  Ballison banging his 
 fist on the table. "Let us whet our blades!"

     The  two kings  wasted no  time in  mustering the  men. Soon  many 
 people  was busy  preparing the  great  war machines  that hurl  rocks 
 through the  air or mending parts  of the titanic city  wall that were
 in bad  repair. The  men of  Caffthorn were  outside the  city digging
 more trenches and  pits near the wall while more  men helped barricade
 the  inner circles  of the  city where  the women  and children  would
 stay safe.  Scouts were  sent out  of the city  to watch  the northern
 environs for the  first sign of the coming assault  and Azzar left the
 oppidan on a swift horse riding south for Dhernis. 

     By  the second  sun  falling  they were  prepared.  Men lined  the 
 northern walls  and sat in  the northern  trenches. Parts of  the west
 and east walls were also fortified but not as heavily. 
     The  third, fourth,  and  fifth days  drew by  and  the hordes  of
 Arnmere  had not  come. Many  men questioned  weather they  had indeed 
 crossed the Voidland as their patients became short and they anxious. 
     The sixth  day came,  and the  hordes still  had not  arrived. The 
 men  waited  at their  posts  eating  little  and talking  none.  They 
 sharpened and  polished their  blades and their  armor until  it shone 
 brightly in the daylight. 
     Soon  it was  midday. Still  no sign  of the  Orc hordes  had been 
 seen or  reported and the  scouts had  not returned from  the northern
 borders of  the Caahahian city  area (that  lay far outside  the walls
 beyond  sight). The  hardy  men of  Caffthorn moved  up  and down  the 
 trenches in  anticipation of the  battle toying with their  swords and
 talking about wars of old that had long been forgotten by other men.
     Ceda made  his way  through the  lines of  soldiers to  where King 
 Ballison sat  with King Threythus. They  looked up as he  sat down and 
 offered their greetings.
     "This  is odd,"  began Ceda.  "The muster  of beasts  that we  saw
 should have arrived by today. They should have been here long ago."
     "Aye,"  agreed Ballison.  "My men  are  ready for  the battle  but 
 they grow weary  of waiting for the enemy while  the tension among the 
 men of  Ruirse grows between the  Axemen and the Caahahians.  Hope for
 battle soon  and let us  be done with this  before we kill  each other
 and lessen the Orc's labors." 
     "Can the enemy have  gone past the city to the  east or the west?"
 Asked Ceda. 
     "Nay," answered Threythus.  "If they had gone west,  we would have
 seen them from  the walls of the  city unless they went by  way of the
 Aun Hills  in the northwest  or north of the  Aun Hills to  No-Al Ben, 
 but that  would serve them  no purpose. In  any case our  scouts would 
 have seen them and would have reported their whereabouts to us.
     "And what of the way to the east?" Asked Ballison. 
     "On that  path there are  only the  forests Ruirse and  the Little
 Kingdom  of the  east. Otherwise  there are  no settlements  until the 
 Port of Dhernis  that lay to the  south. With the force  that you have 
 described, they  would be  fools to  take it east  and not  attack the 
 main  strength  of  the  region.  They must  come  this  way  for  all
 practical matters."
     "Aye," said  Ceda. "But what  reason do  you have to  consider the
 Orcs a  practical race? Further more,  I doubt that the  Orcs know the
 land as  we do, for  they have  lived long in  the caves and  may know 
 nothing of the cities that we have. They could have gone anywhere."

     On the eight day  the Elves of Carne arrived with  a large host of 
 Naz'Clowi  warriors  and some  men  of  Breanduin. There  were  twelve 
 thousand  all together,  all on  horseback.  With them  rode only  two
 thousand of the  Elven folk though the soldiers of  Carne were strong, 
 good fighters and  well versed in the  art of archery. At  the head of 
 them rode  Aroth and as  they entered the  city many shout  arose from
 the men in greetings and praise. 
     Aroth dropped from  his steed and walked over to  Ceda and the two 
 kings.  "Greetings! I  have done  as you  asked, though  I could  only 
 bring this  small amount of warriors  from Carne. Our kingdom  is also
 fighting a  war, for there  are many  Orcs in the  forest slaughtering
 our kin while killing both plant and animal. 
     "But we  bring you  three gifts!  Three gift  that none  can boast 
 giving, and  the tale  behind them!"  Aroth went to  one of  the Elves 
 horses  and from  its  saddle  he brought  forth  a  leather sack.  He
 pulled on  the twine that  held it closed  until it had  opened enough 
 to reach in and  get its contents. Then slowly he  withdrew one of the
 three objects. 
     All the  men watching drew a  deep breath and kept  it. What Aroth
 held aloft in  his hands had given  them a new hope  and gladness rose 
 up in  their hearts.  Breaking the  barrier of  fear that  rested long 
 there like  a heavy  weight they  felt joy again,  for in  Aroth's two 
 small  hands rested  a round  metallic  object. It's  base was  shaped
 like a octagon  from which rose eight spikes, one  from each point and
 all  along its  outer rim  were rare  gems, red  and special  from the
 Malthoogian  Mines in  the Mountains  of Gren  of northern  Grandydyr. 
 Aroth held it aloft  for all to see and wonder at:  the Royal Crown of
 Grobst D'arbo.
     Ceda took  the crown as Aroth  reached back into the  leather sack 
 and drew from  it the next gift.  This he also held  aloft though only 
 the men of  Caffthorn recognized it and at once  sadness gripped them.
 It was  a black  sickle made  from the  grey wood  of Caffthorn  and a
 dark metal.  Near the slender  base of the dark  blade was a  gem that
 glowed in a strong white light. 
     Ballison jumped forward  and clasp the sickle tearing  it from the
 Elf's hands.  "Where did you get  this?" he cried. "It  was the weapon
 of my brother, Tarnigen. He would die before he gave it up!"
     "Steady!"  said  Aroth  backing  away slightly  and  a  few  Elves
 fitting their  arrows in  their green  bows. "We  shall tell  all, but 
 know that I am Elven nobility and will not be treated in such manner."
     "My apologies,  Lord Aroth, for  when my brother is  concerned our
 entire people's judgement is faulty. He was our King." 
     "The  tale shall  be told  shortly, aye,  but there  is little  to
 tell. The next  gift should do most of the  explaining." Aroth reached 
 a final  time into the sack  and withdrew a grotesque,  bloody object. 
 In his hand was  a head, severed completely from the  neck it was once
 attached to. But  this was not ordinary  head, it was that  of a great
 Nuadri,  strong  and terrible  in  life  from  the  size of  it.  Ceda 
 recognized it  immediately, the  head that had  once tormented  him in
 the  dungeons of  the  Sarshirian  Mountains, the  head  of the  Grand
 Nuadri of Barnonoen.
     Then  Ceda  remembered Cander,  and  the  horror of  the  darkness 
 found its  way into his  memory. He  stepped backward. Then  he turned
 his head  and walked away from  it. He did  not want to smell  it, for
 that would be  too much for him.  Any other Orc would  not bother him, 
 any other Nuadri or anything for that matter, but not this.
     Aroth saw Ceda  turn and replaced the head in  the sack closing it 
 tightly and giving it  to one of the Elves. "Now  for the tale, though 
 as I said before there is not much to tell." 
     "The size is  of no concern," said Ballison eagerly.  "Tell it for
 I grow anxious."
     "Well," began Aroth  as Ceda returned. "I had left  Caahah as fast
 as my  horse would bear me.  As I approached  the Wood of Carne  a day
 later,  I met  the men  of Naz'Clow  and Breanduin.  They were  all on 
 horse riding  for the desert  in great haste.  They told me  they rode 
 to wage  a battle for,  they said, several  men that had  arrived from 
 the far  western city of Naudsman  in Old Grandydyr told  them a large 
 host  from  the  Sarshirians  had  left  Ploughdom  and  were  heading 
 northward. They  had barely  escaped with their  own lives.  They also 
 said that  there were  many great Nuadrin  with them,  greater Nuadrin
 than  the usual  sort, and  that one  stood even  taller than  all the
 rest, larger and stronger than the others. 
     "I asked  that they  come instead  with me to  Caahah to  help the 
 men here, but they  said they would come only after  the muster in the 
 desert was  defeated, for with them  was their leader and  it would be 
 a great victory for them were he slain. 
     "I rode to  Carne with all possible haste and  gathered what Elves
 I  could. Then  we rode  to the  desert where  the battle  was already
 underway and helped  defeat the enemy's might. After  the fighting was
 over  and the  dead  counted  and buried  properly,  we despoiled  the 
 remains of  the enemy and found  these fair gifts. Then  returned here 
 in haste, and as  I see now, the host of Arnmere has  as yet not come, 
 so it was good. 
     "As I have said, there is little to tell." 
     "And yet  much remains untold,"  said Ceda. "What were  they doing
 in the desert with these things? And where did they GET these things?"
     "True," added  Ballison, "and what  of Tarnigen my brother?  Is he
 dead or captive? Or did he escape after having his possessions taken?"
     "Of these  thing we know as  much as you," Said  Aroth. "Yet there 
 is still much  to ask. What did  they plan to do  with Grobst's Crown? 
 Return it to the Tree?" 
     "There  is little  time  for answers  to  these questions,"  began
 Ceda. "For  though it is  eight suns  falling since you  departed they
 have as yet  not come. Aye, there are strange  happenings afoot, and I
 like them not.
     "Why wait for them?" asked Aroth.
     "You have some alternative?" Asked Ballison. 
     "Aye. We  have the crown,  overwhelming Orcs approach, why  can we 
 not simply figure  out how to use  the crown and bring  forth the Lost
 Army to help us. That is my suggestion." 
     "That... could  help us, but  how do we  use it?" Said  Ceda. "And
 who will go?" 
     "You know who must go, Ceda," said Aroth. "You are the Traveler." 
     "Aye, I must  go, it is my  duty. The Sign of the  Crown was given 
 to me," answered Ceda concedingly. Then he sighed, "and I took it."
     "Then," said  Ballison intervening. "You  may take with you  as my
 gift,  my axe,  for Tarnigen  is dead  and in  his honor  I shall  now 
 wield his  sickle as my  weapon. As  for you, this  is a gift  for one 
 that  partakes on  a dangerous  journey into  the desert  so near  the
 Dark Gate  and so  perilous, otherwise none  but Caffthorn  nobles may 
 receive it. 
     "Guard  this axe  with  your  life, for  it  is  magical. The  gem 
 placed on  the blade will warn  you of danger  that is near you  be it 
 from friend  or enemy.  It glows  purple when all  is well,  and white 
 when evil is  near. When you are  wounded badly it glows  red and when 
 you die or are going to die... it turns black.
     "The axe is named Renielk and will whistle when you call it." 
     Ceda accepted  the axe and  bowed low, "thank you,  Lord Ballison, 
 I will use it with pride!" 
     "And now that this  matter of who will go is  settled, how is Ceda
 to use the  crown? And when he  does, what will he tell  the army that 
 has been gone for ten thousand years?" Said Threythus.
     "There was a riddle that our wizard Merth told us," said Aroth. 

                        "When four rise and fall, 
                          The Sign of the Crown,
                           Is given and taken,
                        And stolen and recovered, 
                           And found and rewon.
                       And can be used to benefit;
                               But to who? 
                    Crown the King, and he shall rise.
                     And Evil or Good he will bring, 

                            But: Who is Evil?"

     "These riddles are  beginning to irritate me to no  end. The lords
 play with our  minds, and give us  these poems to guess  at! Tavaar is
 a cruel  god!" Yelled  Ceda. "Aye.  I have  heard this  riddle before, 
 though I... I cannot remember from where."
     "This is  not all," said Threythus.  "For we have heard  this same 
 riddle and its answer, though it is as odd as the riddle: 

                        When the King of Grandydyr 
                               Is crowned,
                           The Lost Army shall 
                               Rise again.

     "Then crown the king I must!" Said Ceda turning to Threythus.
     "And I wish to go with you," said Aroth.
     "Nay, the  Sign of the  Crown was given to  me alone, and  alone I 
 will  go,"  answered  Ceda.  "I  leave  immediately!"  He  turned  and
 departed from the gathering. 
     "May your speed be great!" Said Threythus under his breath. 
                    -Joel Slatis  <LGSLATIS@WEIZMANN>

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                    -Joel Slatis  <LGSLATIS@WEIZMANN>

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