The End of October

I'm looking forward to starting NaNoWriMo (check out http://www.nanowrimo.org/). I've been writing so much of my novel lately that I haven't really written anything else. I really should spend more time working on tbis before I forget all of my HTML!

The Shieldmaiden

THE SHIELDMAIDEN

She never wore the Queen’s crown, but had served the king for many years in her youth. It is customary for those that practice such arts to pass their teachings on to their children, but her daughter would only kneel before the royal throne a single time.

The King adopted their child, a little girl of barely five years, and even though her mother had never been queen this made it possible that her daughter might. Even at her tender age she was being trained in the arts of sword and shield, and making offerings to the gods of wisdom and steel. Then he remarried. It is with the birth of his second child that our story begins.

The Queen was not a warrioress; she was a matron of the great statues in the city. She made no secret of her contempt for her predecessor and her deities and all but ignored her stepdaughter. The queen had made it clear that a clumsy novice, especially a student of what she termed as a “perverse and brutal pastime” could not be trusted with such a fragile creature as a newborn child. Anyone who spent half the day swinging a sharp piece of metal around was obviously not fit to touch a small child. The King remained absorbed in his cups or affairs of state and paid no heed to them. The elder princess grew up separated from her father, mother and only sibling, and many said that her skills took on a harsh, bitter quality during these years of solitude.

Strife continued to plague the kingdom; the dark mountains were filled with all manner of evil creatures and shadowy beasts. The loss of a great warrioress weakened the kingdom considerably, and the king found himself constantly engaged with battles along the icy mountain passes. It was here that he met his end, entombed in an avalanche of snow and ice. It was his oldest daughter that led the expedition to retrieve his remains years later, and even then she was barely nubile. There was excited talk that the girl would be a greater warrior than her mother when the time came. Only then were they able to perform the proper rituals and unseal his last will, which would determine who would succeed him to the throne.

During this time the kingdom was in mourning and the Queen ruled as lone sovereign. Since the King had made his preparations at the temple of the Shieldmaiden before departing, the Queen blamed the Goddess and began to restrict her worship. This proved difficult, since the Temple was outside the city and her adherents were always well skilled and armed. They had many sympathizers in the army and in the countryside. The Queen used her influence at court to tarnish the reputation of the Shieldmaiden and her adherents. The Queen would spend the next ten years doing everything she could to destroy the Shieldmaiden and her followers - one in particular, her stepdaughter Bellatrix.

Only once, during a frenzied moment of silly adolescence, did Bellatrix attempt to emulate her sister by slipping into a lady’s gown and painting her face. The Queen, already horrified by the muscular legs and budding breasts that were beginning to strain the seams of her sparring armor, unloaded an impressive array of curses and insults in an attempt to hide the young woman a thick layer of chain mail for all eternity.

“Take that off, Bellatrix. You may act like a whore, but for your father’s sake you don’t have to look like one. Was that one of your sister’s dresses, or one of mine? Well, I’m sure you’ve wrecked it; stretched all of the seams out of shape. Not all women can wear those kinds of clothes. There’s a reason you don’t have any of your own, you know. ”

It has already been said that Bellatrix was a lonely child. In her earlier and more idealistic years she instinctively tried to form some sort of kinship with her stepmother but to no avail. Any time spent alone with her stepmother was terribly boring, punctuated only by clinking of streaky glasses of wine and diatribes against how the kingdom’s morals had degenerated before she became Queen. Worst of all, there was the occasional hushed rants against the fallen King himself. Bellatrix remembered her last attempt at this very well, even though she was rather young at the time.

“You should be very lucky to have a role model like me, young lady,” the Queen had said quietly, as if privy to some sage wisdom available only to women of her stature and class. “Your father didn’t do a single thing for this kingdom. If it had been up to him, things would have gone much worse for girls like you; you should feel lucky to have such a wonderful mother."

“If it weren’t for my mother, you wouldn’t be here at all,” Bellatrix reminded the Queen that her predecessor had given her life for the survival of the Kingdom. This was a weak spot in the Queen’s mental armour and she reacted as Bellatrix expected.

“Are you calling me a liar?” She spat, all semblemce of ladylike demureness gone. “That’s not fair, Bellatrix! I’ve taken such good care of you, and this is the thanks I get?”

“If he’s so useless then why did you marry him?” Bellatrix had sat and absorbed her stepmother’s vileness for so long that the silence had become intolerable. Any alternative was worth trying, and recently she had been studying logic and rhetoric and thought there wasn’t any harm in giving it a try. One of her nightmares was having people like her stepmother in power when she was Queen. She might as well learn to combat them now.

The Queen, enraged by this even further, slammed her empty glass down on the table and stood up.

“Such insolence will not go unpunished,” she sneered. “You are forbidden to go riding with your friends tonight, or for the rest of the month for that matter. Instead, you will accompany your sister and myself to the Temple of the Hearth Goddess every evening. Perhaps there you will learn to have some respect.”

The Queen left Bellatrix alone, who returned to her chambers and wept bitterly. Her few hours outside of the palace were times that she deeply cherished and her stepmother had taken so many away that she hardly had friends to go riding with anymore anyways.

Azalea was the younger princess, and unlike her sister she was the center of every social gathering and her clothes and demeanor were delicate and graceful. The Queen fancied that it was her own efforts that prevented Bellarix from competing with Azalea in this arena. Such activities held little interest for Bellatrix. She was content to withdraw into her combat and academic studies, almost as her father had escaped with combat and politics. Despite their differences, the girls did manage to form a strong bond. This deeply displeased the Queen but since both girls were growing older there was little that she could do. It was also during this time that the Queen noticed the attention Bellatrix was getting despite her efforts to restrict her social life. Her young male sparring partners were making excuses to keep the princess company long after their training sessions were over. This troubled the Queen for reasons that had little to do with Bellatrix herself. It was imperative that Azalea be courted and marry first to secure not only the appearance of her purity but also further secure her claim to the throne.

The Queen saw to it that tongues in the court wagged about Bellatrix’s sexual indiscretions. This lessened the chance that she be courted according to the rules of the Hearth, but her entourage of dallying (and usually defeated) swordsmen-in-training seemed to increase. Bellatrix was a strong warrioress by now and she remained defiant and enjoyed the attention.

The Queen was further distracted during this time by the search for a suitable match for her daughter. There was no shortage of suitors for the pretty and graceful Azalea, but the Queen was determined that her daughter’s match be flawless. Bellatrix could drown in debauchery and come to grief as she might.

Not only did the Queen find a suitable young man that pleased her, but in doing so she devised a way to drive a deep and bitter wedge between the two sisters forever.



The Temple

The sparring ring had once been part of a larger structure that had served as a private temple for residents of the palace. Now all that remained of it was a large circular space lined with pillars and a partially open domed ceiling. The ground was covered with a fine layer of white gravel and a circle of famous knights and warriors stood at intervals at the edge of the circle. The largest of these was a marble effigy of the Shieldmaiden goddess that stood at an elevated position opposite from the main entrance to the palace. Her blank eyes stared solemnly at the ring before her, her spear held at rest but still upright. Bellatrix dreamed of the day that she would be Queen. She could confront her stepmother personally for her transgressions and sentence her to several full moons of limited tailoring as punishment. A week without a new dress would have been a painful one for Her Majesty indeed.

Such thoughts filled Bellatrix with a vicious kind of glee as she picked a scythe up from the weapons rack.

”Shouldn’t this be in the barn?” She turned and teased her friend Nike, also an accomplished shieldmaiden and a distant relation of the royal family. Her family bred the horses that lined the royal stalls.

“The way your stepmother runs things, it’s only a matter of time before the common farmer shows up at the royal doorstep, swinging one.” Nike stepped forward and took the weapon herself. The long, heavy blade hissed through the air. “You may have to learn to defend yourself against a weapon with that kind of reach.”

“Why would I?” Bellatrix laughed and picked up a long, straight sword with a single edge. “I’d be on their side!”

“Shh!” Nike tried to be serious but Bellatrix had made her laugh. “You could very well go to the block for treason. There are no exceptions for that offense.”

“I’ll remember to ask for a sword rather than an axe,” Bellatrix sighed with satisfaction as she chose a small shield for her left hand. The two girls stepped into the ring and each one lit a stick of incense before the Shieldmaiden. They bowed to her, then stood in silence for a moment. Then they turned and saluted each other with their weapons. As they did so, a loud horn sounded throughout the city. The Queen and her daughter had returned, successfully it can be assumed, from her latest attempt to find a suitable husband for the younger princess.

“Don’t you want to go and meet your new brother-in-law?” Nike grinned wickedly from behind the thick wood handle of the scythe.

“Hopefully he’ll bring an entourage of handsome knights,” Bellatrix replied, licking her lips. “Let’s give them a good show, shall we?”

Nike wielded the scythe with surprising speed. Whenever Bellatrix managed to dodge past the swinging blade she found herself cornered by the long handle or the brass pummel on the end. Bellatrix suffered a number of swift jabs to her thighs and stomach before successfully getting through Nike’s defenses and scoring a decisive blow.

“That’s one!” She gasped. “But you held me off well! Handy thing, that!”

“You should see the monks and nuns when they wield only a staff,” Nike lived in the country and was more experienced with less formal weaponry. “A weapon with reach is useful once you learn to fight without shield.”

“Let’s try again,” Bellatrix said enthusiastically, and ran to replace her sword with a spiked morning star.

A few minutes of furious activity followed. Bellatrix had completely forgotten about her stepmother’s arrival. The scythe flashed and spun, graceful and lethal at the same time. The morning-star swung through the air with deadly force, sending bits of dust and sweat over the rocky ground. The combatants stopped suddenly, weapons held at the ready, breathing deeply. Clouds of dust filled the ring and the tall dome echoed with their heavy breathing. The rather distant sound of a single person applauding them interrupted their concentration. The girls turned and looked up at their admirer, who was standing at the elevated entrance that led from the palace.

“My respect for the farming community just increased tenfold,” a male voice echoed through the large open chamber. A tall figure dressed in a black cape and cradling a helmet crowned with silver and ebony horsehair walked down the steps to the ring. He was dressed formally but also for riding, and Bellatrix guessed that he must be part of her sister’s new entourage. She was disappointed that there was only one, despite the fact that he was a very fine looking creature. As he stepped into the sparring ring he glanced rather suspiciously at the Shieldmaiden, who stared indifferently back. It occurred to Bellatrix that she was unknown in his home country.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked, and drew forth his sword. It was straight, double edged and rather wide and short. “I’m no slouch with my blade.”

“I’m sure that you’re not,” Bellatrix quipped, her breathing still heavy, “but for now we’ll concentrate on your sword.” Nike smiled broadly, showing her teeth.

The knight smiled gently and his golden eyes flickered. Bellatrix let her gaze linger at those eyes before she turned back to the weapon rack. Nike took a moment to ready herself for battle again. This time Bellatrix decided to use her very own sword, a single-edged blade that resembled a machete at the end and had a gentle curve like a scimitar. They formed a triangle in the center of the ring. By now the girls had regained their breath. Bellatrix went over the short version of the rules.

“Three hits and you’re out, last one standing buys the drinks. Ready? GO!”

The battle began. The Knight, despite his skill, was obviously unfamiliar with the scythe as a weapon of battle, and repeated many of the same mistakes that Bellatrix had made. Nike was too fast for him and after two relatively quick hits he turned to Bellatrix instead.

“Two already?” Bellatrix teased him as they locked swords.

“It’s the shadow of this strange god,” he said quickly, and had at her.

Nike slowly backed away as it became clear whom the battle belonged to. The Knight was clearly surprised at the strength and skill of his opponent. Bellatrix was impressed with his ability to withstand her and chased him relentlessly and without mercy. Their swords flashed in the light and dust rose in clouds from the ground as the two warriors dug in. Their swords locked a second time, shuddering as their sharp edges scraped against each other. Bellatrix studied his widened pupils and flushed cheeks. This was clearly as exciting for him as it was for her.

She was distracted by a slight movement over his shoulder. Nike caught her eye and nodded towards the balcony, which was also adjacent to the palace. Bellatrix tore her eyes away from the Knight and saw her stepmother and her sister staring down at them. There was no one else with them.

At this moment, the Knight broke away and took a point.

“Ha!” he cried triumphantly, “finally!”

Bellatrix was enraged at this blatant opportunism but kept her anger in check. She flew at the Knight with a cold, calculated power that honored her well-disciplined goddess. The Knight was barely able to defend himself, let alone attempt any offensive strikes. He fell to the ground and his sword fell next to him. As he reached out to grab it, Bellatrix slammed her foot down on the hilt and put the flat end of her blade against his chin.

“Three,” she said, loudly and decisively. A drop of sweat fell from her lips and landed on the nape of his neck, which was heaving from the deep breaths he was taking. Their eyes met and Bellatrix wondered, with no small amount of anticipation, if he would be as exciting as a lover. From the look in his eyes she didn’t think it would be long until she found out.

The sharp sound of clicking boot heels broke her concentration. She turned and saw her stepmother walking down the stairs to the ring, her sister fluttering behind her. If her mother hadn’t been there, Bellatrix got the impression that her sister would have been running. The Knight rose to his feet and sheathed his sword.

“A fine show indeed,” the Queen announced, clapping lightly. “Again, you prove your worth to us.”

“A win would have been better proof,” said the Knight, looking apologetically at Azalea, who smiled sweetly back, leapt past her mother and pressed herself against him.

“You have no idea what you’re saying,” she said as she put her arms around him. “No other warrior has lasted so long in battle with my sister.”

“This…is this your sister?” The Knight caught his breath. “I thought she would be more like you.”

This statement elicited a mocking laugh from the Queen. Bellatrix recognized it as a veiled cry of disgust at such a heinous suggestion. She pretended to busy herself with her bootlaces for a moment to avoid having to look at either her stepmother or her sister. Then she steeled herself and raised her eyes. The Queen was staring right at her, a look of wild triumph dancing in her vindictive eyes. The Knight also stood with downcast eyes and Bellatrix dared to think he was thinking the same thing she was.

“He fought well,” Bellatrix concentrated on her sister. “You should be very proud.”

“Oh, but you haven’t been formally introduced,” the Queen prattled on and Bellatrix wished that she wasn’t still holding her sword. The Shieldmaiden herself would have been challenged by such rage. She felt Nike shift uncomfortably nearby. “Bellatrix, this is your brother - or at least he will be very soon. His name is Volamus.”

“I am honored, my brother,” Bellatrix formally saluted him with her sword and Volamus nodded respectfully in return.

“You honor your god well,” he said, looking cautiously at her face again.

“Less than you may think,” she said through clenched teeth. She had fallen carelessly and predictably into her stepmother’s trap and was painfully aware of it. At this point, Nike appeared at her shoulder holding Volamus’ helmet and cape, which she handed to him deciseively and suggestively.

“Ah, yes, we must be going,” the Queen’s voice was cordial but her eyes were like ice. Nike had clearly thwarted her opportunity to make Bellatrix suffer. Any suffering on Volamus’ part was completely unimportant. The stepmother saw him as a tool to be used, and he had already served part of his purpose. “Will we see you at dinner, Bellatrix?”

“You will, my Lady,” Bellatrix spoke calmly and firmly but she was itching to smash that smiling face with the hilt of her sword. The Queen was visibly taken aback by this answer. She could drive a wedge between her and her sister but it would certainly take more than a handsome young man to drive her from court. A small fissure appeared in her façade.

“Uh…yes, excellent. Well, my dear,” and here the Queen turned her attention to her daughter, “come, and let us prepare for the banquet this evening.”

The Queen turned and flounced back into the palace. Volamus’ sullenly followed, Azalea attached to his arm. She cut her eyes at Bellatrix one last time before they left the sparring ring and disappeared into the dark archway that led into the palace.

“Oh, what a dirty trick!” Nike whispered softly. “I wondered what she was doing, setting Azalea up with a Knight.”

Bellatrix didn’t seem to hear her. She was staring fixedly at the dark entrance to the palace.

“Bellatrix,” Nike said a bit louder, “this isn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Bellatrix said bitterly as she carefully put her sword back in its scabbard. “I walked right into her stupid trap. One look at him and I forgot about even my own sword. I might as well cut my own throat if I’m going to be so stupid. I have dishonored my god.”

“Oh, don’t get in one of your moods,” Nike said, waving her hand dismissively. “It was the natural thing to do. Anyone would have done it.”

“I should know better, Nike!” Bellatrix would not be consoled. “Azalea will be too happy to believe anything my stepmother says about me now. Tongues are already wagging, and together they will have no trouble turning the whole court against me. I have let my pride destroy any honor that was left in my mother’s memory.”

Nike remained silent. Bellatrix had made up her mind.

* * *

It was especially difficult for Bellatrix to grow up alone as she watched her sister surrounded by friends and admirers. It came as a bit of a surprise to her when she acquired a few of her own. Her sister often watched her compete in the sparring ring and joined her and her companions afterward. One time she commented on the number of young men that were hanging about afterward.

“Perhaps they think they can win you by showing off their swords,” Bellatrix joked, as she carefully sharpened her own.

“Me?” Azalea smiled and laughed gently. “Bellatrix, those boys are here for you!”

This prompted a look of surprise and generous rolling of eyes.

“Oh, please!” She laughed, “Azalea, look at me!”

“I am,” Azalea said sweetly, “and I see a strong young maiden drenched in sweat with her leather armor clinging to her body. Boys like that as much as they like stockings and earrings.”

“Azalea, don’t talk like that,” Bellatrix was a little shocked by her younger sister’s talk. “My goddess would not approve.”

“Even the gods understand the needs of human beings, and the Shieldmaiden isn’t without some compassion.” Bellatrix listened intently even though she pretended to be indifferent. She valued her sister’s wisdom and these were things she knew nothing about. “My goddess teaches me that there is honor in love as well, although that is a lesson my mother designs to keep from both of us.”

“Well, I don’t believe you,” Belatrix did not look at her sister, fearing that she would see the pain in her eyes. “If you didn’t come tomorrow, they would leave that much sooner.”

“Then I propose a wager,” the precocious younger princess said, moving gracefully along the marble hall in her silk slippers as Bellatrix clumped behind in her combat boots. “I will take an early tea with one of my least annoying suitors tomorrow instead of watching you practice. If what you say is true, then I’ll clean the dishes with my own hands. If the boys stay, then you will know that I was right, and YOU must clean up after us. Good enough?”

“The soap will wreck your nails,” Bellatrix smiled but her tone was cynical.

The next session in the sparring ring arrived, but Azalea never did, and the boys stayed. Bellatrix thought this must be because they were expecting her, but none asked or even looked for her. Bellatrix could hardly believe what could be happening. How could she dare believe that they lingered only for her?

Bellatrix, who had been alone for a long time, ran out of excuses, and when she allowed herself to accept that they really were here for her a strange, overwhelming sensation engulfed her. In her own mind, she went from being next to worthless to being the center of attention. It was the feeling of being wanted, and it was profoundly beautiful. Her heart seemed to stop and all the breath ran out of her body. She may have fallen over if a strong hand hadn’t gripped her arm.

“Are you all right, my Lady?” A young man, a few years her senior, had seen her swoon and had steadied her. He was from a nearby country and would be returning to it when the leaves changed.

“I…I’m fine, thank you.” Bellatrix replied. The young Knight smiled back. He stayed with her long after the others had left, and finally took his leave when Azalea appeared.

“I have already finished the washing up,” she said smugly, “so you still owe me one.”

Bellatrix did not reply right away and Azalea regarded her face. Now that the Knight had gone she was crying a little. Others may have been shocked or surprised to see her display such vulnerability but Azalea was not.

“That one…you saw him. I…he invited me to see him later tonight.”

“Be careful, though,” Azalea raised an eyebrow. “They may not have honorable intentions. That one…I think…he may have a fiancé in his home country.”

The older princess let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. “I don’t care,” she whispered, and Azalea felt some slight misgivings at what she may have helped create.

Bellatrix’s training that summer concerned a sword of another kind, the kind that only a man can wield. The elder Knight taught her well and Bellatrix was an enthusiastic student. For one who had barely been touched or held - in any capacity, by anyone, for as long as they could remember - such intense affection was like paradise, and Bellatrix was rife to mar it with petty compunctions of honor or loyalty. Thus she discovered her fatal weakness, for in those moments when they embraced beneath her bower she disregarded the teachings of the Shieldmaiden. When her mother had ridden out to her death, when her father brushed her aside with all the regard that one might have for a pesky pet, when he had fallen to his death on the dark mountainside, when her stepmother filled her ears and heart with poison, where had the Shieldmaiden been?

This is not to say that Bellatrix abandoned the Shieldmaiden. She was still an academic and an accomplished swordswoman, but to give up such bounty after being deprived for so long seemed unjust to Bellatrix, and since she served the Shieldmaiden so well in many other capacities, she felt drawing a line in this one regard would not be so harmful. That summer her lover encouraged her to continue following the goddess. Then he left to return to his country and marry another woman. Bellatrix remembered him well. He had golden eyes.

Volamus had golden eyes. This was the first thing that Bellatrix had seen when she looked at him, and they outshone the ebony plume and silver helmet like the sun outshines the moon. As the next few weeks passed, and the excitement of Azalea and Volamus’ wedding drew closer, Bellatrix began to believe that the Shieldmaiden was punishing her. Volamus seemed to be everywhere she went despite her best efforts to avoid him; but perhaps her efforts were not so sincere after all. She would go to the library only to find him reading the book that she had been looking for. He seemed to have an uncanny talent for that, and try as she might she couldn’t hate him for it. She would go to the sparring ring and he would already be there, fighting a mock battle with his shadow before the looming figure of the Shieldmaiden. They fought many times again and she taught him many of her skills. Nike would take her to the barn and they would find him tending his black stallion. They frequently went riding and Bellatrix was as taken with his graceful, spirited mount as she was with him.

At first, the Temple of the Shieldmaiden was one place that Bellatrix was at peace from Volamus. It happened one day, however, that he was waiting there for her too.

“You have to go back inside the city if you want to find the Hearth Temple,” Bellatrix raised her eyebrow at him as he lounged on the bottom step. She looked away and walked casually past him.

“I know where I am,” Volamus got up and followed her, “I came to make peace with this god before I became king.”

There was only one person that Bellatrix knew who was more arrogant than Volamus. This thought was so delightful that she couldn’t help but let a teethy smile flash across her face.

“Why?” She asked, as her smile turned into a grimace. His tone was almost patronizing and this displeased her. “So you won’t feel so guilty when the Queen abandons this place entirely?”

The Temple was a rather sorry sight. It had fallen into disrepair in the years since her father had died. Parts of the outer walls were falling apart, and ivy and moss has overtaken whole walls of once polished stone. Bellatrix gave of what she could from her own allowance, as did a number of her peers, but it was nothing compared to the donations that had once flowed from royal and courtly coffers.

“I wouldn’t allow that to happen,” he said firmly as he put his foot on the next stair. She looked at him for a moment as she bent down to start unlacing her boots.

“You wouldn’t even know about it,” she sighed, feigning indifference and thinking that the only thing left in the house to remind her of her father was the groove he’d left in the couch. The thought disgusted her but she was sure that Volamus would come to the same end sooner than later.

“I said, I won’t let that happen,” Volamus repeated, “and I have come here today to pledge this to you and the Goddess that you serve.”

Bellatrix straightened up and looked hard at his face. No indication of sarcasm or insincerity could be found on it. His eyes were glinting with determination and Bellatrix found herself wanting very desperately to believe him.

“That won’t please my stepmother,” she challenged, still focused on his face.

“I’m not interested in pleasing your stepmother,” Volamus broke into a smile. She smiled back.

“Very well, take your shoes off and come inside,” Bellatrix placed her own boots on a wooden rack outside the door,” and I’ll introduce you to the Shieldmaiden. You can leave your sword here too; it’ll be safe.”

“How come you can keep your sword? Executive privilege?” He was teasing her but Bellatrix’s smile faded.

“Anyone who enters the Temple of the Shieldmaiden can only wear a single blade,” Bellatrix said softly as they entered the dark foyer, “Being a man, you always carry your weapon. Your sword would make two.”

Volamus said nothing but his face flushed in the dark. Bellatrix pretended not to notice and led him on.

The Temple was a circular shape, as were only the most traditional of the Shieldmaiden’s temples. The Outer Circle was lined with pillars and tapestries that told the stories of the Shieldmaiden and her consort, the Archer.

“Why isn’t this Temple inside of the city with all of the others?” This was one of Volamus’ first questions.

“This was actually the only Temple that didn’t move inside the city eventually,” Bellatrix replied. “I’m sure they would rather let it rot than move it anyways. This Temple was once a part of a much larger fortress that was here a long time ago. They say a powerful Empress ruled here, and she had supernatural powers. Many think that it was the Shieldmaiden herself.”

Bellatrix pointed out a taspestry that showed a woman with a purple dress and a silver helm, sitting on a tall blue and white throne and gesturing to the figures facing her. There were two; one was holding a parchment and quill, another a sword. A white owl was perched on her shoulder and it seemed to be regarding them as they regarded the tapestry.

“It was she and her first servants that taught our people that language could be an art, and that warfare could be honorable,” Bellatrix studied the taspestry carefully, “but it did not belong to our people alone. Many have tried to hoard this knowledge for themselves and the wrath of the Shieldmaiden has always come upon them. To move this Temple inside the walls of the city - or any city - might be misunderstood by the Goddess as an attempt to usurp her property.”

“I didn’t think your stepmother believed in all of that,” Volamus listened carefully, looking at Bellatrix more often then the tapestries. She did not look back at him very often. This question seemed to please her and she returned his gaze but only for a moment.

“My stepmother serves the Hearth Goddess, and in the mythologies the Hearth Goddess and the Shieldmaiden are sisters. Sometimes they are even the same woman.” Bellatrix stopped and stared at a very old piece of cloth behind a glass. At first glance Volamus recognized a common portrait of the Hearth Goddess with her Lord at her side. Then he realized the figure that was usually adorned with the long flowing veils of the Hearth Goddess was dressed in mail and crowned with a helm. She held a sword in one hand and clasped the hand of her companion in the other. Volamus expected to see the bearded man that was the Lord of the Hearth standing next to her. The young figure in his place, who carried a bow in his free hand, resembled the Lord but he was clearly different. Belatrix followed Volamus’ gaze and answered his question before he thought to ask it.

“He’s the Archer,” she said. “It’s him that the constellation in the sky is named after.”

“Yes, I’ve seen it,” Volamus answered, “we call him an Archer in my country too.”

There was a moment of silence between them. The shadows in the curved corridor seemed to thicken and the torchlight seemed to flicker in panic. Bellatrix stepped a little closer to him and lowered her voice as they regarded the next tapestry. It was the Archer, standing alone, drawing his bow. He was aiming at something that could no longer be seen, the tapestry was so old and damaged.

“You know there is a darkness that threatens this land,” she said, “that’s part of the reason that my stepmother chose you. She thinks you can save us from it.”

The turned and looked at each other.

“What do you think?” he asked quietly.

She did not reply but regarded him rather sadly before turning away.

Now they walked to the Inner Circle. There were a few other worshippers there, quietly burning incense, reading or tending to their weapons. They regarded Bellatrix and Volamus with a bit of surprise as they walked by. Bellatrix walked to a steep flight of stairs at the end of the room and beckoned Volamus to follow her.

“That space used to be the sparring ring but not a lot of training takes place here anymore,” she said, as they descended into the darkness. “I’m taking you to the Lower Hall; it’s only accessible through this stair now.”

Volamus’ eyes didn’t have time to adjust to the light. He heard Bellatrix turn and handle and open a door. His eyes were blinded by the surprising amount of light that flooded in.

They stepped through the door, which Volamus then realized must have been a back door of some sort. A badly damaged stairway at the end of a long, open hallway seemed to lead back into the main dome, where the Statue of the Shieldmaiden presided.

“It fell down last year,” Bellatrix said, when she saw him looking at it. “Heavy snow. My stepmother hasn’t gotten around to repairing it yet. Guess I’ll have to remind her again, eh?”

He grinned. As they walked he realized that the alcoves along the wall were filled with life-size statues on pedestals.

“These are the warriors of old, who have served the Shieldmaiden and the people of this realm,” Bellatrix explained before stopping before one. It seemed to be the most recent, well kept by temple staff and mourners; many candles and sticks of incense were burning nearby. Beneath a carving of a unicorn and three five pointed stars was a single name; “Amalthea of the Silver Oak Guild.” Bellatrix said nothing more but instead walked forward and furtively pressed her cheek against the statue’s foot. Volamus was surprised to see her exhibit such tenderness, especially so fiercely, especially to a statue.

“This is my mother,” Bellatrix tried hard to conceal the emotion in her voice as she stepped back. She concentrated on the lifeless stone as she spoke. “She died in the same great battle that also claimed some of our best and bravest knights.”

“Who was she fighting?” Volamus’ voice was calm but he was feeling a little intimidated. In his country, the stories of the Archer’s quarry were often told to frighten children into better behaviour.

“Do you see the three stars?” Bellatrix asked softly, still staring fixedly at the statue. Volamus nodded gravely.

“Those stars came together in sky when I was a girl. The Oracle told us that the Beast the Archer defeated so long ago had risen from the darkness again.” Bellatrix sighed and broke her intense gaze on the statue. Volamus kept following her as they walked along the corridor.

“And your mother was one of the Knights who rode out to fight it?” He asked.

“Yes,” Bellatrix said, “but not nly that; she was the Knight. The kingdom’s most elite company of Knights is traditionally led by the consort of the crown. When my grandmother was Queen it was a man. My mother’s position has remained mysteriously vacant since she rode to her death.” Bellatrix paused. She slowly drew her sword and held it up, examining it in the sunlight that streamed into the stone hall. “Before she left, she gave me this.”

The silver sword seemed painfully normal, but was clearly well-balanced and fastidiously kept. The blade was thick and longer than most women’s swords. It had a single edge and came to an angled point at the top. The hilt was inlaid with a three small white pearls.

“I suppose I will die a similar death someday,” Bellatrix said casually as she sheathed her sword. “The three stars will come together again. When they do, I will follow my mother, but I would succeed where she failed. I will kill it.” She turned to face him and any sign of tenderness was long gone.

“You don’t think it matters if you live or die?” Volamus asked, looking at her carefully.

“It doesn’t matter if I live or die,” Bellatrix heard a hint of distress in his voice and immediately assumed that it as her own fancy tricking her into seeing something that wasn’t there. He was probably patronizing her again. “If by my life or death I secure your kingdom, then at least I can die knowing that the last Royal Princess to serve the Shieldmaiden fell in a way that would have pleased her god. The kingdom that you will rule has little use for us, I’m afraid. I’m just glad that my mother isn’t here to witness it.”

They had reached the base of the ruined stairs. The large conical roof of the Main Dome loomed just out of reach. Bellatrix turned away and walked to the back door in silence. Volamus did not immediately follow her. He remained and contemplated the marble visage of Amalthea. By the time he retrieved his sword and shoes Bellatrix had left.

As it happens with those who have similar interests and passions, Bellatrix and Volamus became close friends. There was no denying the strong affection that existed between them, but they were well disciplined, and kept all of their feelings hidden in their own hearts. The younger princess had no understanding of this, and Azalea doubted her sister’s resolve. All she knew for sure was that Volamus was a handsome and accomplished knight and that he turned many heads. She once made the mistake of asking Bellatrix to limit her time with him.

“I suppose it’s not enough that he spends every single night with you in your chambers,” Bellatrix said bitterly. Previously, Bellatrix had felt some sympathy for her sister, being so closely watched over and hounded incessantly by the overbearing queen. Such sympathy had waned considerably since Volamus had come to the palace.

“That’s none of your business,” Azalea said angrily. “Why do you have to be so vulgar? He…he’s going to be my husband!”

“Of course; then you can go and tell him what to do,” Bellatrix said coldly and calmy, “that’s all your mother did with my father.”

“I am not my mother,” Azalea answered coldly.

“Nor are you mine,” Bellatrix felt her voice rise a little, “and I will not be told what to do by anyone, let alone a spoiled little girl who knows nothing of the restraint a shieldmaiden must practice.”

“Ha!” Azalea’s cheeks flushed red. “Did you think of that when you spent the summer with that Knight? The one that was already promised to that other woman?”

This was a serious mistake. Bellatrix’s hand went to her sword hilt and Azalea’s eyes widened in horror. But the older princess took a deep breath and her hand slowly fell to her side again. She spoke to her sister slowly and carefully.

“That man was not promised to my sister. You will not speak of him again, Azalea. I mean it.”

Azalea nodded. She knew better than to provoke her sister further. Bellatrix continued.

“You do not understand what you are asking me to do, Azalea. You have always been surrounded by friends, you have always known the right things to say and your mother has always doted on you. Perhaps someday you will taste the bitterness of solitude, and only then will you be able to stand alone and give orders to others. Burn some incense and praise your goddess that she has given you such a fortunate life.”

Bellatrix did not wait for a response. She turned away from her sister and walked away. The sisters still met as they always had, but not as often, and there was an uncomfortable tension between them when they did. Finally, Bellatrix ended their meetings altogether. She watched the happiness of her sister and Volamus, and although she could not help but acknowledge it was gratifying to see a happy couple it pushed her closer to despair. Bellatrix too had her secret wish, that a man of her equal embrace her and love her because of what she was, not in spite of it. She had become bitter at the thought of such fancy as the years of solitude continued.

These were the lessons Bellatrix thought the Shieldmaiden was teaching her. Her time was coming to an end, or perhaps it would never come. Bellatrix watched the remains of the Temple fall into disrepair and no longer made the effort to repair the damage her stepmother’s wicked words had done to her reputation at court. Soon Azalea was more favoured to take the throne, due in no small part to Volamus’ popularity as a future king. Bellatrix’s own affection for Volamus made her also desire that he be with the better woman. She gave up all hope of affection and dedicated herself to the service of the Shieldmaiden. She finally understood the futility of persuing a life that did not want her, a life from which she would forever be excluded. It was a melancholy day when she made that decision but she felt a strange kind of peace when she accepted her fate and finally let her stepmother have her way.

* * *

The day of the wedding drew near and Bellatrix and Volamus saw less and less of each other. He was kept from the sparring ring and the library to attend wedding rehersals and suit fittings. For a while it was fun. Azalea was always at his side, guiding him through the finer points of social edicate and meeting with other heads of state at court. Sometimes he and Bellatrix saw each other for official matters, but the Queen Mother had seen to it that the affairs of Shieldmaiden were either unimportant or totally removed from the “real” affairs of state, so the various official meetings they attended were often separate. Volamus expressed some enthusiasm about changing this one time while he and Azalea had a moment for their midday meal.

“It’s fine the way it is,” Azalea rolled her eyes. “Of all the things you could do, why do you settle on this?”

“Azalea, you must understand that I am trying to strike a balance between the Hearth Goddess and the Shieldmaiden,” Volamus tried to explain. “I’ve told you, it’s unfortunate that your mother has neglected the soldiers of this kingdom.”

“What does that have to do with the Shieldmaiden?” Azalea sighed. “You have no Shieldmaiden in your country, and you constantly brag about how safe your country is.”

“My country is kept safe by my family. My mother was a proud knight and I have several older brothers that adhere to a male god that is very similar to the Shieldmaiden of this country,” Volamus replied.

“Then we’ll build a temple to him in the city,” Azalea offered, “and make his worshippers a part of your cabinet.”

“I would like that very much,” Volamus said, “but I still would like the Shieldmaiden to have more of a presence at court.”

“That’s my sister’s job,” Azalea said. “Is that what this is really about?”

Volamus shifted uncomfortably. They’d had this conversation before.

“No,” he said firmly. He reached across the table and took her hand, “Azalea, do you remember the day I came here? Do you remember the first thing your mother said to me?”

“She told you to go to the sparring ring,” Azalea smiled, “because she knew that’s what you wanted to see.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that,” Volamus said. “Your mother chose me because this country is facing danger from a looming threat that must be confronted and defeated. I may not be able to do this alone, Azalea. No matter what you may think of the Shieldmaiden, her followers are fearsome fighters. Even in my own country we would see them as masters. Truth be known, I never met my equal until I faced your sister. I never want to face her or any of her peers in a real battle.”

“Do you fear my sister would try to take the throne by force?” Azalea’s voice was firm but quiet.

“She definitely could, it is within her power,” Volamus replied. “If I involve them more at court there is more of a chance that they will be for us rather than against us.”

“My mother thinks that she will try,” Azalea said coldly. “I don’t think that I trust them to have the best interests of our nation at court. That seems to make us less safe, don’t you think?”

“Azalea, I don’t think we need to protect ourselves from them,” Volamus was annoyed that the official decisions made by the crown were too often based on nothing more than the personal prejudice of the Queen.

“You don’t’ know Bellatrix as well as you think,” Azalea said. “You’ve heard what people say about her, haven’t you?”

“My god is very strict regarding the evils of bearing false witness,” Volamus was starting to lose his patience. As of late, every conversation he’d had with Azalea came back to the subject of her sister’s sexual improprieties.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Azalea asked boldly.

“No, of course not,” he shot back. “Azalea, rumor and heresy are no way to govern a country.”

Servants appeared to clear their plates. For a few moments more the couple sat in silence. Then they rose to leave. He slipped his arm around her waist far a moment and spoke softly into her ear.

“Things will be different when you are my wife,” he said gently, “you will have nothing to fear, from the darkness, your mother, or your sister when I am placed on the throne. I promise.”

Thus they reconciled. She smiled and kissed him tenderly on the mouth.

* * *

The wedding was only days away. Bellatrix had not been invited and she would not have had it any other way. Mercifully, her sister and her groom were so busy with their preparations that she saw very little of them. The last time Bellatrix had seen her sister she had been modeling her wedding gown. Bellatrix could not help but feel a moment of untainted happiness in her old heart for her sister, a young blushing bride, as she turned on the elevated pedestal like a shimmering flower.

“Did I tell you, our Guild will be the Diamond Rose?” Azalea asked as a seamstress fussed over her hemline.

“No, but I heard already,” Bellatrix replied. “Nike’s mother told her about it. Shouldn’t your name be first?”

Traditionally, when guilds merged the name of the bride was taken first. Even the stepmother had conformed to this rule when she married the royal house. Nobody seemed to remember the Queen's original guild name, except that it had something about roses in it. The Golden Cloud was the ruling house before the king had married. Their marriage had begun the reign of Golden Rose Guild and Azalea also used this name. The Volamus was of the Diamond Star Guild. Bellatrix hoped that she could have counseled her sister to take the name of the Golden Star.

“Mother thought this would be more appropriate, since he’ll be the King,” Azalea turned and admired her nubile form in the mirror.

“And you’ll just be the Queen,” Bellatrix said quietly.

“Yes, I suppose,” Azalea said, oblivious to the bitterness in her sister’s voice.

Volamus had been under the needle and thread in the next room, and a page appeared to announce his entrance. Bellatrix hastily left before he came in. To see Azalea draped in such finery was enough. To have to see Volamus dressed as a groom would have been too much for her to bear.

The entire kingdom was awash with festive décor, and it shamed Bellatrix that each time they caught her eye she resented her sister more and more. It became clear to her what she had to do, and she was not afraid to do it. She asked Nike if she could borrow one of her horses.

“What for?” She asked. “Are we going somewhere?”

“I plan on going alone,” Bellatrix said firmly. “I’ll pay you for it, since I’m not sure if I’m going to come back.”

Bellatrix didn’t like the idea of abandoning her father’s kingdom, and she was prepared to serve Volamus and Azaelea as a dedicated knight, but the thought of a lifetime of watching the two of them revel in wedded bliss was a miserable prospect. To remain as a servant, or to leave forever and live in exile but freedom was a decision that she had to make outside of the palace walls.

“I suppose I should go tell my stepmother,” she said quickly before Nike could object. “Could I leave tonight?”

“If you want,” Nike said with a sigh, recognizing once again that Bellatrix had made up her mind. “Were you thinking of a particular one?”

“Strider will do,” Bellatrix replied. Strider was a short, bulky roan with a grey dappled coat and blotchy face. He wasn’t much to look at, but was well tempered and had a high constitution.

“I’ll ask my mother to saddle him up tonight, after he’s been fed, then ride him back myself.” Nike and her mother had a whole barn full of horses to look after, and it was already early afternoon. “I should be back by sunset.”

Nike stayed for a quick bite to eat and a short run in the practice ring before jumping on her own little red and white pinto before disappearing.

Bellatrix made her way to her apartments, mulling over what she would need for her journey. She didn’t want to burden Strider with too much gear. A simple piece of awning and a bedroll would be sufficient as shelter. A small hatchet, a spy glass, some skinning knives - was there anything else that she needed? She was so wrapped up in these thoughts the she nearly tripped over the young page that was waiting just outside her apartment door.

“My lady, I’ve been instructed to escort you to the Queen’s Inner Chambers immediately,” his voice was cold and his face was pale.

Bellatrix regarded the boy’s wide eyes and clammy skin with calm fascination.

“I am not available to speak with my stepmother at present,” she replied. “But your trip hasn’t been a waste; take a message back for me. Tell her that…”

“I beg your pardon, my Lady,” the Page spoke rather urgently and Bellatrix raised an angry eyebrow at the rude interruption. He bowed so that he was looking at the ground instead of her. “I have been strictly instructed to escort you to the Queen’s Chambers. I am bound to fulfill this order.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. No doubt her foolish stepmother had already caught wind of her preparations to leave and wanted to subject her to one more humiliation. Her face softened, and she determined not to take her anger out this innocent boy, whom she knew well.

“Very well,” Bellatrix said. “Lead on.” The Page was terribly stiff as he turned away from her and avoided eye contact.

Volamus and and Azalea were also waiting in the marble room that served as part of the Queen’s private chambers. Volamus was sitting upright on a small couch and Azalea was standing behind him. He was the only one who looked at her when she came in. Azalea was staring at the floor, but she seemed strangely relieved somehow. The Queen looked excited; Bellatrix could tell she was trying to put on a grave face. The page that had led Bellatrix to the chambers closed the door and the royal family was left alone.

The silence in the room was so thick a well-oiled sword would have stuck fast in it. The Queen was sitting behind her father’s old wooden desk, staring at a piece of parchment that was rolled out before her. Bellatrix knew that the Queen was waiting for her to speak, just so she could tell her to be quiet. It was either that or stand here for ages. Any other day Bellatrix may have played that game but tonight she as in a hurry to leave.

“Stepmother, why have you summoned me?” She asked in a flat, dull tone.

“I did not give you leave to speak, young lady,” the Queen said curtly without looking up.

Bellatrix shifted uncomfortably. Volamus was staring at her intently and she wished he would look away.

At last, the Queen spoke. She did not look up as she did so but remained absorbed in the parchment before her.

“Bellatrix, our astronomers have watched the sky tirelessly, and they say that the three stars of the Archer have come together again.”

Wild joy, almost as intense as the day that the elder knight had caught her in his arms, filled Bellatrix’s heart. She could not have asked for a better time or reason to die. Now she understood Azalea’s relief, Volamus’ rapt fascination and her stepmother’s barely contained smile. The Queen, who had not yet looked at Bellatrix, she lifted the parchment before her and read;

“To the Most Royal Guild of the Golden Rose; hail, and well met to the royal house. The valour of your high house has reached the hallowed halls of my lofty mounataintop. We fight the same darkness, the same shadowy foe. I have in my possession a weapon that can destroy the beast that threatens us. Unfortunately, I have no servant to deliver it safely to you. If you will send a company of Knights to retrieve this weapon, and pledge that you will see that the Beast is destroyed, peace and goodwill will bless your land and mine. My servant will await your reply. Only hold it aloft at a northern window at night and it will be carried to me. I await your reply. The Sorceress.”

Bellatrix listened intently, but the parchment brought forth more questions tan it answered.

“Who is the Sorceress?” Bellatrix asked. She was well versed as to who their allies and enemies were in the region but she had never heard of her before.

“And obscure creature who rules over the wastelands of the Northern mountaintops,” Volamus answered. “I’ve heard of her, but I didn’t think she really existed."

“What has the Oracle counseled?” Bellatrix turned back to her stepmother, who waved her hand dismissively.

“It is so like you, to have faith in such tripe,” the Queen sneered. “We will not make our stately decisions based on the nonsensical ravings of that old relic. I would be surprised if the Oracle even exists anymore.”

“The Crown Prince did not believe in this Sorceress, yet here you have a letter written in her own hand,” Bellatrix challenged, gesturing to Volamus. “The Oracle has always served our house well. Why do you refuse him?”

“Your tone displeases me, and this is not the first time.” The Queen rose, and a thin smile of triumph appeared on her pale face. Bellatrix dreaded what was to follow. “Bellatrix, I will send a convoy of Knights to the Realm of the Sorceress, and I have decided that you are not fit to be among them.”

“My Queen, I'm afraid that I don't agree,” Volamus rose, despite Azalea’s obvious effort to keep him seated. "Bellatrix is an accomplished warrior and would be a welcome addition to our royal consular mission." For some reason Bellatrix wondered at his use of the word our. Volamus was proud but he was not pretentious. He only used the royal "we" in jest.

"The objections of the Crown Prince are duly noted," the Queen turned away and took a small box lined with steel and gold from one of the cupboards. "However, my former husband left behind very specific wishes as to who would succeed him. My term as Queen has only been temporary."

Bellatrix recognized her father's seal as the box was laid upon her mother's desk. This was his last will, and Bellatrix already knew what it said.

"The contents of this will are not unknown," the Queen said carefully, staring at Bellatrix. "Whoever slays the Beast will wear the crown. It seems that there are two individuals vying for this claim at present, despite what they may have privately or publically declared. For the both of you to proceed on this expedition could lead to a civil war. Bellatrix will remain and maintain the Temple of the Shieldmaiden; she will also make any and all of its adherents available to join the Crown Prince on his expedition. Any of the Shieldmaidens followers that are chosen must swear an oath of loyalty to the Crown Prince..."

"I will hear no more," Bellatrix spole softly, but her voice was deep and cold. It drowned her mother's voice. Azalea tightenend her grip on Volamus.

"No-one who serves the Shieldmaiden will put their allegiance to any head of state before the Goddess. It is an affront. You know this well, stepmother. You also know that I have renounced my claim to the throne, despite your baseless claim that this was but a clever lie. Now, know this - I will visit the Oracle to recieve his council personally, and despite any objections you may have I plan to act on his advice."

Her voice rang through the chamber and it seemed to vibrate. Bellatrix was focused on her stepmother, who stood before her with wide eyes and an open mouth. She felt Volamus' eyes weighing heavily on her.

"To...to do such a thing is to commit treason...treason against the royal house, the crown, the....the people of this country!" The Queen sputtered, her face red and her voice rising to a shriek.

"There is treason here, and we will see it soon enough," Bellatrix said coldly. Without taking any kind of formal leave, she and turned on her heel to walk out the door.

"Guards!" the Queen barked. Immediately, the double doors swung open and two orantely dressed palace guards appeared, spears at the ready. The looked into the room with some confusion, seeing only the elder Princess approaching them.

"Restrain the Princess!" the Queen cried, pointing to Bellatrix. If the Guards weren't confused before, they certainly were now. They exchanged furtive glances through the slits in their ornate helmets.

Bellatrix drew her sword and assumed an agressive positon. She knew both of these guards well. All of the palace guards had been trained and chosen by her and these were no exception. The fact that her stepmother was ordering them to arrest and detain their superior showed how little she knew about loyalty.

"Stop me, if you can," Bellatrix faced them calmly.

Without a sound, the guards raised their swords in a salute and took a step back. They bowed as Bellatrix strode out.

Once away from her mother's apartments, Bellatrix's unearthly calm began to crumble. Not all of the guards were so loyal to her. Those boys had been young and had never drawn those spears in real combat. Bellatrix wondered, as she jogged to the barn, if Volamus would honestly fight her if her stepmother ordered him to. Didn't he understand that she was sending him on an expedition that would get him killed? No-one, not even the Archer, had faced the Beast and lived. Bellatrix hung on to the hilt of her sword. She could not let Volamus die, and told herself it was because of love for her sister. Bellatrix didn't really believe that Volamus could destroy the Beast; but she believed that she could. This was all she knew. The Oracle would have to tell her the rest.

There was quite a lot of activity in the barn. Evidently word had not reached the servants here that there was a rogue princess on the loose.

"Almost all of the horses are saddled, my lady," a servant said as she approached, "but for Melanotes."

"He will not suffer to be touched by any but his Master, the Crown Prince," Bellatrix eyed the horse's long neck and quivering haunches greedily. She had seen Volamus ride Melanotes and he was a wonder to behold, and as much as she wanted to she could not take him. "Has Nike returned with my mount?"

"Yes, my Lady, Strider is saddled and ready. "You will be leading the expedition, I assume? Will you...."

The servant trailed off when she realized that Bellatrix had already turned and hastily walked off. She hadn't looked but she knew that the Queen must have sent someone to the stables by now. She would have to be quick.

"Is he ready?" She asked, ducking into the stall and trying to watch the aisles up and down at the same time.

"Yes," Nike said, looking at her suspiciously. Bellatrix had already unlatched the bridle and had begun to push Strider back into the aisle. The horse was not one that was accostumed to rushing and seemed hurt by her hasting him so rudely.

"Are you in a hurry?" Nike asked jokingly.

"No, not at all," Bellatrix couldn't help but smile. "And you'll find out why soon enough."

"Oh dear," Nike sighed, "I suppose I should head back home and pick up my sword and armour too."

"Indeed you should," Bellatrix said as she mounted up. Strider snorted and nodded. A gong began to sound in the palace, indicating that other guards - many of them with a number of loyalties - had indeed been sent. "You'll be going, I'm sure, along with two boys who used to be palace guards, Volamus, and anyone else my stepmother wants to get rid of. I will see you again. In the meantime, arm yourself well and stay vigilant."

Bellatrix didn't wait for a reply. With a quick jab to Strider's sides they were off. There was no-one on the rampart to see her and Strider as they gallopped out of the courtyard and into the city streets. The townsfolk that did see her on the sleepy afternoon saw only a pale grey horse and a hooded rider. Bellatrix rode through the city gates unheeded and did not look back as they dissapeared into the dusky shadows of the wodded hills.

* * *

The Warren of the Snares

I hope to expand on this post very soon - at present this blog is still in the crysilis stage.