Session 17: A Surfeit of Dormice

When last we left our heroes...

Our session began with a rich dinner served for the Company (or at least for Tengelbur and Reiana) at the hospitality of the governor, who was even more corpulent, loquacious, and repugnant than usual that night. Items on the menu included:

• Crayfish and lobster boiled in oil and dipped in fine-ground red pepper.
• Roast seafowl in a pot with cinnamon and almonds from the Royal Wood
• Sweet and sour pork with ginger and a thick rice wine sauce, cooked with onions, cloves, ginger, and mace and glazed with a honey sauce.
• Pears in wine, with cinnamon and ginger
• A table rice wine; a sweet plum brandy for the apertif.

Growing increasingly disgusted with this display of the governor's opulence (among other things the governor was displaying that night), Tengelbur attempted to excuse himself on the grounds of being sick, only to discover that the governor had anticipated this eventuality, and chamber pots had been provided so that the surfeit of the banqueters need not be interrupted by vomiting, or any of nature's other pressing needs. Horrified, Tengelbur moved to the window, attempting to escape the governor's hospitality, while Reiana stoically kept her eyes on her food.

Meanwhile, Vanera found himself subjected to a smothering hospitality of another sort: Neryaleth, the aging keeper of the Norinlakor, after having been asked (a little hesitantly) what his favorite story was, immediately launched into a dramatic reading of "The Wooing of Kanle," and was eventually forced to excuse himself (at some pains) from the reading, lest he should be there all night.

Alone of all the party, Tanurendal was free to go where he would. Wandering through the courtyard outside the Governor's palace, he saw a group of soldiers escorting a young girl towards the gate--and recognized the young girl by the jewelry she was wearing as Kjanle, the sister of Laran, the caravan survivor they had been trying to help for several days now. He approached, trying to get at the girl, but was accosted by one of the guards. At that moment he (from the outside) and Reiana and Tengelbur (from the inside) noticed a number of guards closing in around the feasting hall, and at that moment Governor Neratsoan turned on Tengelbur and Reiana and accused them of having waylaid the caravan themselves, and called upon Laran to testify to that effect. Shaking, clearly under duress, and unwilling to make eye contact with Reiana, Laran affirmed the Governor's accusation, and the Governor ordered the two of them to be carried away and put in irons.

That's when Tengelbur leaped into action. Snatching up a chamber pot, he tried to hurl it at the guard blocking the window where he stood, only to nearly hit Tanurendal out in the courtyard instead. Then, he drew a dagger and rushed the Governor, holding it at the huge man's many-folded neck and demanding an escort out of the city. After nearly succeeding in negotiating with the governor's serving wench Thauthenai, (who the party had come to suspect was something more) he was flattened by a blow from the Governor's flipper-like arm, and the four companions were subsequently thrown into the governor's dungeon awaiting trial.

There, Tanurendal manage to open the waste chute of the Palace on himself, dousing the whole party in foul-smelling offal before they were interrupted by the enigmatic (and now fully clothed) Thauthenai. After a tense conversation, Thauthenai made a deal with the party: she would give them the opportunity to escape, and tell them where the girl Kjanle was being held, in exchange for information about the true purpose of their mission to Sencankarr. After satisfying herself with their answer, she made arrangements for their escape, and for them to meet Laran at the city gates.

An hour later, the party crept out of the dungeons--only to run into two guards on their way to their shift a few minutes early. Tengelbur managed to bribe them to keep their mouths shut, and the party rescued little Kjanle from the Governor's private Dormice-keeping house before rendezvousing with her brother at the city gates. Offering to let Laran and his little sister travel with them back to the Holy City, the party set out on the road with the rising of the sun...

Session 15 & 16: Fire on the Moors & Library Inspections

When last we left our heroes...

We began with the party's Fall Fellowship Phase:

• Tanurendal spent it with Yuralesh, the smith of Cheykor, learning the basics of the trade [and trading his Cheyth-lore specialty for Smithing]
• Vanera visited the Sacred Well hoping to learn something about the journey ahead of him, and ended up learning something about himself. He also received some cryptic advice about his journey. [For the next adventuring phase, rolls the Feat Die twice on Corruption Tests and takes the better result]
• Reiana took Sir Ralus officially as party patron. She was visited by Lieutenant Samlon, who brought letters from Sir Ralus for Master Norkur. Samlon also indicated he looked forward to Reiana's return to the Marches of the North in the Spring.
• Tengelbur attempted to craft to clear some Shadow, but was unsuccessful. He was, however, approached by Talarja the Scarlet Sister. She attempted to convince him one more time to trust to the Sisterhood rather than Norkur, but seeing he was firm in his plans, she gave him a means to contact the Scarlet Sisters in Sencankarr should the need arise: He is to go to the Shrine of Nanalon's Sons, located outside the Eastern wall of the Holy City. There, he is to offer fresh-cut lilies for the memory of those who died in the Grove of Bent Trees, and someone would reach out to him again within a day.

With preparations made, the party began their journey westward across the moors.

Your journey takes you up and out of the Cheyth River Valley, up a pass through the hills, and out onto the high northern moor beyond. Immediately ahead of you is the Kanbojar Kjanavar, the "King's Road," which you cross in due time. Laid during the reign of Fanhal the Great for the swifter passage eastward of the king’s arms and errand riders, the Kanbojar Kjanavar is a work of great craft and skill, running eastward from Ralakarr, capitol of the Northern district, to the crossings of the Cheyth, and thence across the Wanlecheyth and to the very foothills of the Black Hills. In better days, the King’s Road boasted waystations at regular intervals, but unlike the road these have not stood the test of time, and most of them have now crumbled into ruin, or had their stones hauled away for use in other buildings. The rolling hills of the Cheyth River Valley level out onto a long, level expanse of upland, full of sudden valleys and misty canyons, where dark streams flow by strange and winding paths towards the sea.

The occasional breeze or gust of wind wafting up from the South, and a faint blue twinkling in the distance, all remind you that you are still near the coastland--but the temperate clime of the wood is gone, replaced with an autumn wind which sends a chill into your bones. Now you have to be more careful of your way, for any level expanse of ground may give way quite unexpectedly to a sheer precipice or canyon, and the strange mists which rise up from these glacial valleys at morning and evening can mislead even the wariest traveler. You choose sheltered places for your rest each evening, and during the night you can hear the distant howling of the Great Maned Wolf, the shaggy-haired and solitary predators of the Moor. Overhead huge birds can be seen wheeling at times--the hawks and vultures of the Moor. It is said that the Cheybori, the men of the North, capture some of these birds while they are young and raise them as companions for hunting, and even warfare.

The Company continued on for four days, until they saw something burning in the distance. Running ahead, they found the remains of a merchant caravan, evidently headed East before the Northern Winter made the roads completely impassable. The caravan's beasts were missing entirely, its wagons overturned and shattered as if by some great force, and the caravan-goers themselves piled in a mound of burning and twisted flesh. Investigating the remains of the caravan, the party found a single survivor, pinned beneath one of the shattered wagons. He was Laran, a young man of some forty or so years (still quite young for the Ambori), who, after coming into a small inheritance, had set out for Cheykor with his sister Kjanle in the hopes of making a new life for themselves on the Marches of the Cheyth. Laran frantically searched for his sister, aided by the Company, but to no avail. The company then decided to build up the fire so that the bodies of the slain might be burned, and not fall prey to the carrion creatures that haunt the moors. The bonfire was brought again to a blaze with the splinters of the wagons, and the Company sang a lament as the sun fell in the West.

After two days of looking for Kjanle (the bodies were by now too mangled and burned to ascertain their identities, but a count of them indicated there might be one other missing--in which case the sister could still be alive), the party decided to continue on to Ralakarr. Laran hoped the governor would be able to raise the garrison to look for his sister. But the Company, at least two of whom had already met Governor Neratsoan, were less hopeful.

Arriving in Ralakarr some nine days after they left Cheykor, the Company obtained accommodations at a hostelry known as the Crossed Candles, where an innkeeper named Barra told the party tall tales, including one about a "cyst" in the earth, on the west side of the river, that some miners had broken into a few weeks ago. The miners had supposedly died of the pestilence, but one of them had made it back to town before he expired, his eyes burning with a black fire.

As this was going on, the governor's soldiers entered the inn and, after making inquiries, escorted Laran back to the Governor's Palace. The Governor, it seemed, had some questions about the fate of the caravan. Suspecting something was off, Reiana and Tengelbur decided to accompany him, while Vanera and Tanurendal followed at some further distance back.

Arriving at the gate, Reiana managed to intimidate the Governor's steward (a put-upon man named Verekan), which had the unintended effect of getting a direct audience with the governor himself rather than accompanying Laran to where he was being questioned. Reiana and Tengelbur found the Governor even more corpulent and decadent than he had been a year ago, and they were treated to a recounting of various feasts the Governor had enjoyed in Sencankarr last (and were able to watch the Governor eat a couple of plumb doormice, fed to him by a half-dressed but perceptive young woman who remains so far unnamed). They managed to extricate themselves only by agreeing to come to dinner that evening, where they would learn "something to their advantage," and were then able to reunite with Laran, who seemed shaken from his many ordeals, but seemed more hopeful that he would see his sister again.

In the meantime, Vanera and Tanurdenal attempted to gain entry to the palace. Vanera tried to bluff his way in by claiming to be there from Sencankarr for a surprise "library inspection," an idea which gravely insulted the aging librarian, a near-sighted man by the name of Neryaleth. But Vanera's bluffing quickly gave way to genuine interest as Neryaleth described (with great vehemence) the immaculate condition of his library. With a little pleading, Vanera managed to convince Neryaleth to show him around, and the two gained entrance to the courtyard outside the Governor's Palace.

Letter Home: Vanera to his mother, Fall/Winter 451 TE

My Dearest Mother,

I shall acquaint you with the events of the last few weeks. A plague has broken out here, and there has seemed to be no cure in the village for it. We were told that there is an herb, Dead Man’s Kiss, that could possibly remedy it. We were also told that the left eye of a hyena could cure it as well. I personally, not wanting to have to bother with hunting a beast down for its eye, proposed that we go after the herb.

On our first day searching, we found some growing in a thicket. The only problem we faced being a Lesser Horned Beast and her litter of cubs living in said thicket. They were newly born, by my estimation. Tengelbur thought he would befriend her by feeding her every apple we had with us. I told him not to, for it would surely make the beast lose its fear of man and wander into the village to eat children. He did not seem to think it was an issue and continued to feed our apples to the beast. Reiana and I tried our best to get some cuttings of the herb, but unfortunately scared the beast, and she attacked Tengelbur. After that, we all started in on the attack, and I must say, it turned out to be a tough fight.

In this beast I saw a motherly instinct that I have often seen in you. She would do anything to protect her cubs, just as you would do anything for your children. How I ever became so fortunate to have you as my mother, I can never tell. For you are one of the most virtuous, most loving, most tender women that has ever walked the earth.

After we had defeated this beast, we discovered that the beast' boiling blood had destroyed the herb. We then spent several days searching for more of the herb with no success. We took what we had back to the village, then set out to find the hyena’s eye. Thankfully, before we had gone very far, we were approached by someone who knew of a cure. To keep a long story short, we were able to help her attain the cure.

I now come to the part I know will make you dance for joy. Anaris and I are planning on coming home for the winter. I will come baring my many sketches I have made of the North with much information, that I am sure you will wish me back there at once so you will no longer have to listen to my talking of it.

Sencankarr… It holds that which is dearest to me in the world. I wonder even now how I have survived without it. Pray, don’t plan too many social engagements for me. I should like to spend the winter quietly at the Royal Library reading. Though, I would like to host a dinner for my fellow adventurers. Perhaps we could host all of Tengelbur’s family for dinner one night. Tengelbur has grown to feel like a brother to me. He has his weaknesses, but really a good man when it comes to his heart.

I have talked to Anaris about Neras Garini. I think it is safe to say there is yet hope. At least on her side. I fear there could be some possible resistance on Neras side. But I am sure that if Anaris spends enough time in front of a looking glass with your help, he will overlook the imperfections in her personality and be mesmerized by her beauty.

I have many other things I could write in this letter, but why waste my ink when you can hear it straight from your son’s mouth. I shall be with you shortly, dear Mother. Give my love to my sisters and to Father.

Your son,

Vanera

Session 14: Well Women

As Reiana let out a fierce battle-cry of "Weixranbo! Weixunthara ka Weixranbo!" a long, stony appendage shot out from inside the shrine and pulled her in, bringing her quickly into close-quarters combat with the horrifying aberration, which appeared to be half-woman, half-stone tree. As Vanera and Anaris attempted to follow Reiana into the shrine, they were confronted by the guard at the shrine's door--Raoseina himself, the Gate-warden of the town and captain of the town guard. Owing to the noises of combat from inside the shrine, it didn't take too much effort to convince him that something was terribly amiss, and that the shrine needed to be opened at once. Opening the shrine, which was sealed with seven chains, was another matter. By the time it was opened, Reiana was unconscious and being lowered into the sacred well, which was by now clouded and stagnant. Vanera, Anaris, and Raoseina attacked. Talarja, the Scarlet Sister, supported the Company, singing an ancient song of power meant to purge the evil creature from the holy place. But it was Anaris the spear-maiden who ultimately landed the killing blow that ended the life of the horrifying creature.

The party repaired back to Raoseina's own home while Talarja remained behind to cleanse and re-seal the shrine. Raoseina sent word for Tengelbur and Tanurendal--who during all of this had been attempting, in vain, to escape from the town stocks--to be brought to his house. In the conversation that followed, it was agreed (or at least strongly suspected) that the creature they had fought was probably the same old crone who had given Anaris the task of burying the toe in the forest, and that the two events must be somehow related. According to Talarja, the woman was once one of the Sacred Sisterhood, but she had wandered into the Serth Hatama in search of the tombs of the Stone Kings and presumed lost. Raoseina had hard words for Anaris once he learned that she was ultimately responsible for the pestilence that had come to Cheykor. "I hope you will never forget this lesson, nor the names of those who died because of your foolishness."

Raoseina himself turns out to have been one of the last-surviving Dogs of Winter, the personal bodyguard of Prince Galal. With the prince gone, Raoseina is now loyal to Sir Ralus, with whom the party has already had some dealings. Learning from the Company and from Talarja of the positive existence of the Tauran-Tauror cult (which he has suspected for some time), he requested the party to travel to Sencankarr and ask for counsel from Norkur the Chief Scribe. Talarja advised against this, insisting instead that the Scarlet Sisterhood should be allowed to handle it. Ultimately the party decided in favor of Raoseina's plan, and plans were made to travel to Sencankarr...

Session 13: The Scarlet Sister

After a few more days of mostly unsuccessful searching in the Cheyth Wood, the party returned with what little Blind Man's Kiss they had, hoping it would be enough. In their absence, the pestilence had grown much worse: at least a full dozen people had now succumbed, and it showed no signs of slowing down. Resigning themselves to the idea that they would probably have to go Hyena hunting after all, they managed to get mounts from the village elders before setting out.

All except for Tanurendal, that is. Having missed the trip into the Cheyth Wood, he first attempted to recruit some of the town's ne'er-do-wells in order to form a hyena hunting expedition of his own. After this failed, Tanurendal left town (making a bit of side income for himself by working on the lands of Onerama the Bald in the interum) in order to avoid the pestilence. By the time he arrived back in Cheykor, the rest of the Company had already left the village heading west towards the open moors.

The party traveled for several hours towards the west before making camp for the night. It was only when the woman appeared among them that they realized they had been followed the whole time. She was tall, regal, middle-aged, dressed in the dark habit of the Well Priestesses except for a girdle of scarlet silk about her waist; that, and the fact that she wore more jewelry than would normally have been considered proper for one of her order. She introduced herself as Talarja, one of the Scarlet Sisterhood. The Scarlet Sisterhood, as she explained, was an order of Well Priestesses who preserved the original (or at least what they claimed was the original) religion of the Children of the Water before the kings of the Line of Sencan came and rewrote history. She informed the Company that the were on a fool's errand: the pestilence in Cheykor was caused by a desecration of the Sacred Well at the village's heart, and could only really be eradicated when the Well was purged.

This presented two difficulties: first, owing to the time of the Great Fast, the Well shrine was not only sealed--it was actually chained shut, and the entrance guarded at night. None were to enter it until the Fast was at an end, on pain of severe punishment. The second difficulty was that Cheykor had its own Well Priestess, Feiala, whom the company already knew and respected. If Talarja's story was true, why wasn't Feiala aware of the poisoning, and why hadn't she taken measure to cleanse the shrine before now? To this last question, Talarja would say only that Feiala was a very good and admirable woman, and a good priestess, but owing to no fault of her own she was unable to act in this particular instance.

Eventually, the party decided they could trust Talarja, and proceeded with her back towards Cheykor. On the road they encountered Tanurendal, and with the whole company finally back together, they debated how to get back into the village after the gates had already been closed for the night. Arriving at the dead of night, Tanurendal and Tengelbur made a distraction while the others scaled the stockade and entered the village. Unfortunately, Tengelbur's smooth-talking fell short of convincing the gate guards that the pebble he had picked up was actually the left eye of a Hyena, and he and Tanurendal were put in the stocks for the night, awaiting judgment by the village elders the next day.

In the meantime, the rest of the party sneaked up towards the Shrine, avoiding the guard at its entrance. Reiana scaled the rear wall in hopes of slipping in through the opening on top of the shrine, which luckily had not been shut. But looking down into the shrine, it was immediately apparent that all was not as it should be.

The place that should have been holy now smelled of decay. The water which should have been clear was now murky and brown. And wrapped around the Sacred Well, her fish-like face draining its holy waters, her fingers and toes ossified and dug in around the well like deep roots, was the old crone the party had encountered in Kor-Ikush the previous summer. Her head snapped back as she noticed Reiana, and she let out a mournful wail.

Session 12: Pestilence in Cheykor

We began the Fall Adventuring Phase on the 18th day of Akdeipal, amid the Fast of Lamentation, when the Ambori remember the long bondage of their fathers in the mines of torment. It is the most solemn fast in the Amborian calendar, and as the hustle and bustle of the trade season begins to die down in Cheykor, so too the city seems to have grown gray and somber. This is the only time of year that the Ambori do not go clad in bright and manifold colors, for in memory of the long captivity of your fathers in the Black Hills, you wear the dark and somber hues of slavery, of gray and black, and the rhythm of your days is muted and downcast, punctuated only by plain evening meals and the daily ceremonies which take place, led by Feala the Well Priestess. These ceremonies are processions which are made around the base of the hill on which the shrine is located, for the doors of the shrine itself are closed and locked for the fourteen days of the fast.

These ceremonies include long liturgical recitations led by Feala as she wears a length of chain around her neck and hands. Lay celebrants accompany her, singing and chanting in a call-and-response format, as they wear small silver bracelets linked like chains, which are the only jewelry allowed during the Fast. Not everyone in town participates in every once of these processions--typically, other than the most pious citizens, the normal townsfolk only partake in Feala's three times during the fast--once, in the great procession on the first day of the Fast, and then again on the seventh and fourteenth days. It is during the great procession of the fourteenth day that the shrine is re-opened, commemorating the great and solemn Feast of Sencan, when Sencan descended into the depths of the earth to his father's anvil, to free the Hurorupeim and free his people from bondage.

Not being particularly religious, Tengelbur spent his time trying to run down answers about the Swan-Woman who had taken Orusen (to no success, as it happens). But Vanera, Reiana, and Anaris all partook in the daily processions up the hill. Accordingly, they were approach by Feala and asked to stand in for two of her celebrants who had fallen ill that day. At the appointed time, the little procession gathered at the gate of the town and began their way up the hill.

Feala, clad ever in black, wears no jewelry, but her dark hair is clasped behind her head by a silver band of thread, and around her neck and shoulders she wears a heavy black chain which rattles as she takes the first step. One of the celebrants begins a low, steady drone that forms the background for the shrill rhythm of Feala's chant:

Orkon, hated, came in friendship
Came with many gifts for children.
Brought the lore of sunken Star-land,
Brought the wisdom of the anvil.
Children gladly welcomed friendship,
Named him Parbeas, open-handed.
Afterwards he made another
Offer to the Water's Children:
Gift of woven spells, enchantments,
Death to cheat, increase of power.
The children were deceived and conquered.

As the ceremony proceeds slowly up the hill, the refrain is taken up by each of the celebrants in turn:

Long we labored in the darkness.
Long we served the black deceiver.
Long we wielded pick and hammer.
Long we suffered in the darkness.
Long our cries went up to heaven.

Anaris and Reiana blared out their parts, rather tunelessly, while Vanera executed his with more skill (as one might expect of a scholar).

As the ceremony reaches the top of the hill, the chant reaches its apex.

Long we suffered in the darkness.
Long we beat out chains of iron.
Long we dreamed that Nankeinela--
Maker both of earth and heaven--
Looking down upon our sorrow
Would send some one into our bondage
A king to lead, a smith to hammer
Bitter chains into a scepter.

With each cry Feala beats upon the shut and locked door of the Shrine. But the door is shut, and the deliverance of the Children of Water and Sky is not to come until the end of the Fast is completed. But even as Feala lowers her head, tears streaming from her cheeks, her knuckles bloody with beating upon the stone door, there is a cry. 

One of the celebrants, a young girl named Falaru, stumbled forward with a cry and collapsed. As Vanera stooped to examine her, he found a large black patch of skin slowly spreading its way across her chest, clawing its way up toward her throat. The midwife, old Fjalakar, was called for, and by the time she returned a sizeable crowd had gathered around the body. She declared it a plague of some sort, and gave an unfavorable prognosis. Without a cure, the girl would soon die. More problematically, two of the other celebrants had fallen ill earlier that day, and Fjalakar suspected the pestilence was spreading among them. The Company quickly volunteered to go for a cure, and after consulting Fjalakar as well as local lore and legend, they determined they would have two options:

• Retrieving the herb known as Dead Man's Kiss from the Cheyth Wood. This powerful herb drives out poisons and plagues by inducing a high fever (which, if not administered correctly, can itself cause blindness, sterility, and death). 
• The left eye of the hyenas of the Northern Moor are believed to drive out such pestilence if placed beneath the tongue of the victim. 

After trying to decide between the two (and one of the village elders trying to encourage them toward the latter), the party finally decided to go into the Cheyth Wood (which was nearer) in hopes of acquiring the herb. 

This wide forest of oak, ash, and beech straddles both sides of the Cheyth bellow the Crossings. In ancient times it was a great forest, one of the mightiest of the north of the world, but now it is diminished to the bounds of the lower Cheyth River Valley. But there are trees in the Cheyth-i-Hatam which still remember the days before the days when Lanenomen brought his host eastward, and they have not forgotten the might of the forest in ancient days. What it was that cut it short—whether the poison of Orkon or the wrath of the river—none can now tell. Within the heart of the forest there are many beasts great and fell, and in the days when there was peace in the North, Lemal I and his son Namal were said to have often hunted here.

It took only a day of searching to find a stand of the herb--unfortunately, as the PC's approached the thicket where the herb was, they heard the low growls and grunts of one of the Horned Beasts which haunt the Cheyth Woods. It turns it out was a Lesser Horned Beast mother with a relatively new litter of cubs, and as the Company approached she made it very clear that she did not intend to let them near her nest. Tengelbur managed to approach it, using a steady supply of apples and other foodstuffs, and nearly befriended it before Vanera and Reiana--neither of whom are particularly stealthy individuals--spooked it trying to cut the herbs. It lashed out, attacking Tengelbur (as he was nearest) and after a long and desperate fight--in which the creature's boiling blood showered the Company and also burned away most of the herb, as well as its own blind and naked young whose thick hides had not yet developed--the Company managed to slay it. Tengelbur tried to save the last one of the badly burned cubs, but it died even as he wrapped it in his cloak.

Breathless, weary, and all with their Endurance in the single-digits, that's where we left the party in Session 12 of Thunder in the North.

Session 11: Commander of the River Forts

After their narrow escape from the Serth Hatama, the party stopped for the night at Galal-i-Yalir, the headquarters of Sir Ralus, commander of the River Forts. Reiana had a specific errand with Sir Ralus (part of her reason for coming North), and the party needed a safe place to rest after the harrowing events at the ruined fortress in the woods.

Galal-i-Yalir is the chief of the river-forts. Built along a similar pattern to Hural Yalir, which most have you had visited in the spring, it is somewhat larger, though still characterized by the high crenelated walls -- built high enough to withstand siege by the Kodihan, the ancient foes of the Ambori, even though there are none in this part of the world, so far as you know -- surrounded by a deep trench filled with sharpened stakes. This trench, traditionally traversed by a causeway of earth and stone, is here navigated by means of an actual drawbridge which can be raised or lowered from a large gatehouse on the other side of the trench. Two banners fly here, the winged leopard of Sir Ralus, and the Sword, Bow, and Gem of the House of Sencan. Perhaps in token of defiance of the current regime, or in mourning for the namesake of the fort, the banner of the House of Sencan flies lowered at half-mast. This is Prince Galal's own fort where Ralus, after his dismissal from Ralakarr, has made his headquarters in command of the Legions of the Cheyth.

Thanks to their prior association with Lieutenant Samlon, who had hired them back in the Spring, the party had no difficulty gaining entrance to the Fort, and gaining an audience with Sir Ralus.

Sir Ralus is a short man according to the standards of the Ambori, standing just under six feet, with very fine and delicate features, but keen grey eyes that seem to glimmer from under his heavy brows and ample head of dark hair like quicksilver. Quicksilver, indeed, is a good analogy, for he seems prone to changes of mood. Now he is sarcastic and ironic, now quiet and reserved, now serious and studious, now inquisitive and capricious. It is only in an emergency, on the field of battle, that the deep roots beneath the ever-brimming surface can be seen. Then he is controlled and orderly as he always really is within, a man who knows the place and worth of every other man, and who can best see where they each ought to be placed. 

Sir Ralus listened to the Company's story, and after the dinner and entertainments were over, he spoke confidentially to Reiana and Vanera--the two members of the party he had decided he could trust. He laid out for them the situation, militarily and politically, as it stood on the Marches of the Cheyth: Sencankarr had all but abandoned them, and Ralus' position on the Marches was tenuous, since he was maintaining his legions at his own cost and by his own force of will, the position having been conceded to him as a sort of exile after he had been removed as governor of the North. But he had another reason for his residence there than just the security of the realm: the Loyalists (those of the Ambori who have remained loyal to Galal) have long believed that Galal is still living, and Ralus hopes to find some clue to his whereabouts there in the North. The letter which Reiana had brought from Loyalists in the Weixranbo indicated that there was reason to suspect that Onwae himself had orchestrated his brother's capture, and that a witness to this fact--one of Onwae's former agents--was living in exile somewhere in the North. Sir Ralus resolved to find this agent, if possible, and Reiana promised her aid. In token of his trust in the Company, Ralus gave Reiana and Vanera tokens which would identify them as in his service and under his protection.

Reiana and Anaris slept in Arkjamu's quarters that night--Arkjamu being Sir Ralus' quiet, sickly daughter, whose health seems to have suffered as a result of her proximity to the Serth Hatama. The male members of the Company bunked with the cavalry officers that night, and Tengelbur managed to gamble away his cloak, as well as two weeks time spent mucking the fort stables. The next day, the part all headed back to Cheykor, where we paused for the Season's Fellowship Phase.

• Anaris spent time composing a new Company Song.
• Reiana spent some time crafting, attempting to clear some of the Shadow she had picked up as a result of their activities in the Serth Hatama.
• Tengelbur spent some time mucking the stables at Galal-i-Yalir, as per the terms of his bet.
• Vanera spent some time at the Norinlakor researching the lore of the Stone Kings (and received a letter from home).
• Tanurendal forged himself a new hauberk of mail. 

Letter Home: Vanera, Fall 451

My darling Mother,

I can not tell you how much your letter has grieved me. It has almost convinced me to return home. It pains me to think what you and others must suffer in my absence. But Mother, think of what it would mean if I were to discover a Tomb of the Stone-kings. The fame alone would secure me any position I wanted. Not to mention what it would do for the family name. What I do, I do for you and father as well as my sisters.

I will speak to Anaris about giving up her frivolous pursuits and coming home. I think having introductions made to this Neras Garini is an excellent idea. In fact, you should do everything in your power to make the match come about. You are so cunning that it will not prove difficult for you. I shall do everything in my power to persuade Anaris that a marriage with Neras Garini is most desirable. One would think she will have no objections when she hears that he is the heir to two large fortunes.

I pray you would hold off on making any arrangements as to my getting married. I believe it would only prove to be a distraction for me to be engaged. To know that there was some young woman hanging all her hopes on my returning would pain me. In fact, the thought sends a pang through my heart at this very moment. It is best I remain as I am. I am still young, and there is still plenty of time to marry and give you grandchildren.

As to what you have to say about Vitherai, I am glad to hear she will do her part to raise our house and carry on some young man’s line and help him spend his large fortune. She is a sweet girl and deserves all the best in life.

Anaris is doing well and seems to have improved in temperament for the moment. I on the other hand have not been well. I had a run in with a Nashbori arrow. I hesitate to tell you about it for fear it will only deepen your disapproval of my journey out North. I was shot in my back between my shoulder blades while fighting off a horde of Nashbori. My fellow adventurer, Tanurendal, stood there by my side fighting with all the courage of a lion. It is him who you have to thank for the life of your son, for there were at least four times I would have been cut down had it not been for his throwing himself in the way to stop the blow. I was able to return the favor though when he was hit by a poisonous arrow. I was able to, with my profound knowledge, make a spicy broth that brought him back from the brink of death.

It happened in this manner. In my last letter I told you of the adventure we had been sent on by a man who had lost four of his amber miners. Well, we set off to find them, and our first stop was in a village called Kor-Ikush. We had been told that some of the family of the lost miners lived there. Though we did not meet any we did meet some interesting people. One of which was a wash-woman whose eyes were set far apart, almost in the sides of her head. Her hands were altered as well, for they were webbed like frog feet. This woman seemed to know everything about all of us, which I found unnerving. She knew all about what we were doing there and where to find who we were looking for.

After long bargaining at the end of which Anaris made a deal with her that I had misgivings about, she told us where to find the lost miners. We set off at once and found everything just as the woman said. We arrived at a fort where we found all the belongings of the four miners, clothes and all, as well as signs of recent Nalshbori activity. But no miners. Oddly enough, there were four stone trees in the ruins of the fortress, and it’s been whispered among the group that those were the four miners turned to trees by some foul play. As we were searching the fort, I came across a bronze tablet that reads as follows:.

Ika-karhala Orrula, Weiksura anyalir ijilan kjanlases ika-amnoxam abla-serthatama abiyauv-inla.

Three of our group decided to go below the fortress and found a Nashbori alter. Anaris also found a silver bowl. Perhaps it will encourage her to set up house now that she has such a nice piece to be displayed.

Tanurendal and I stayed above to keep watch, and we employed our time in setting up a clever trap to alert us of any surprise attacks. Unfortunately, it did not work, for the Nalshbori attack came from the other side of the fortress. We both hid, but Tanurendal was spotted and instantly the object of their attacks. I tried to sneak off to alert the other that there was an attack up above but did not make it very far before I was spotted and shot in the back. I am afraid from that point on I was not much help in the fight. It is very painful to try and raise one’s sword when you have an arrow digging itself further in your back with every movement.

I will spare you the rest of the details of the affair. After the fight, Reiana - a Weixranbori leader, pulled the arrow from my back and did her best to tend to my wound. It was after that that I saved Tanurendal’s life by making the broth. After this, it was decided that the alter below the fortress needed to be destroyed and cleansed. Reiana and Tengelbur Sathneinor went below and disassembled the alter. Then they brought up all the burnable parts and set them ablaze while Tengelbur sang The Last of the Stone-kings. Once this had all been completed, we took the stones and ashes and set off with them to deposit them in a body of water. This was no easy task for me with my back wounded, especially once a Nalsbori warband started chasing us.

Through all that, we all managed to arrive safely at Galal-i-Yalir. There is not much to tell after this. Sir Ralus showed us great hospitality, and I had my wound tended to. The next day we returned to Karet Cheykor.

That is all I have to write for now. I do love you dearly, Mother. Know that I am trying very hard to keep safe and that the cloak you made me has kept me very warm. Do give my love to my three sisters and Father. Tell them I would welcome letters from them, as I am sure Anaris would as well.

Your ever-loving son,

Vanera

P.S. Do continue to send the latest gossip, for I am asked at least three times a day about what news I have from Sencankarr. But everyone here seems to be interested in particular about Neras Garini, so do send along a little more information on him.

[By Hope R.]

To Vanera, from his mother - Summer/Fall 451 TE

My Darling Vanera,

I do hope you are well and that you are not catching cold. They say it gets dreadful on the moors, even in the summer time. I must admit I still do not understand why you insisted on going off wandering through barbaric lands when there is a good position as a court scribe--and even an advantageous marriage, if I can arrange it--waiting for you back at home. But, if your sister is any indication, it's the purpose of one's children to disappoint one so, for they will go off and have their mad flings without any consideration to a mother's feelings. If you find Anaris a trial to bear, my darling son, you may know that it is but one tenth of the misery your absence has caused me. Won't you come home and marry?

There is certainly plenty to talk about. We went to stay at our house in Sencankarr this spring. Vitherai was danced with by many handsome young men at the king's fete, and I have every hope that when her time comes, she will be able to do our part to raise the fortunes of our house. Of course all of the great gossip was really around young Neras Garini, of whom you must assuredly have heard. He's the heir, mind you, not just of the Garini house, but also of the fabulous fortunes of the Amosbo family. I can still remember when the Amosbo line failed. I was still a young girl then, and it was only a few years after the War. Ralus Amosobo died young and without male heirs, and the fortune defaulted to the Garinis by right of two intermarriages with the Garini line which produced Tengelyan Garini, Ralus Amosbo's wife. There were rumors in those days that Tengelyan Garini denied her husband children so that the fortunes of their household would pass over to her father's estate. The Garinis were and are mad, it's said, though very beautiful, and there is a cunning streak that comes in from those perennial schemers the Eirukos. 

But all of this is, as we say in the Capitol, ancient history. Of great interest right now is the fate of Neras Garini. He is, as I have said, the heir to two fabulous fortunes, and is a great favorite of Onwae. I suspect that he will in time become one of the greatest men in the land. They say he has his eye on Talarja Sathneinor, though after her rogue of a brother killed her last suitor in a duel, I'm not sure how anyone can be expected to give that girl a second glance.

It would be greatly to your sister's advantage were she to set aside her frivolous pursuits and come to Sencankarr at once so that a proper introduction might be made. If not, Neras has three sisters who are all quite young and beautiful. I will speak to Engelyan Thianra, Neras' mother and the matriarch of the Garini clan, on your behalf should the opportunity arise. 

With love and many tears,

Your mother Ridenyan Kjavabo.

Session 10: The Battle in the Ruins

As the six Nalshbori scouts streamed into the ruins, Tanurendal rushed to meet them while Vanera attempted to quietly alert their comrades. In this he was not as stealthy as he would have liked to be, and one of the Nalshbori sharpshooters put an arrow between his shoulder-blades that hampered him throughout the rest of the fight, though the scholar managed to keep on his feet. Surrounded, the two companions fought off all six of the Nalshbori, Tanurendal standing in front of the wounded scholar and taking several heavy blows that would have surely killed anyone wearing less armor than himself. At last, Tanurendal fell unconscious, grazed by a poison arrow, though Vanera managed to cut one of the attackers down.

Such was the scene when Anaris, Tengelbur, and Reiana returned, hastening back from their exploration of the crypt: Vanera the scholar, with an arrow in his back, standing over the body of the fallen Tanurendal as three Nalshbori spearmen closed in around him and two Nalshbori archers kept up a steady rain of arrows on the companions. Between them, Anaris and Reiana cut down one of the spearmen -- the former hamstringing him with her spear, the latter severing his head from his shoulders -- as Tengelbur rushed the archers and cut them down. Reiana finished off another one of the spearmen as Tengelbur and Anaris rushed the last Nalshbo, Tengelbur slaying him with a heavy two-handed strike to the back as the Nalshbo was busily occupied trying to ward off Anaris' spear. 

In the aftermath of the battle, the party looked to their wounds:

• Reiana rather clumsily removed the arrow from Vanera's back, and though she did her best to dress the wound, it will need serious attention soon before it can begin to heal.
• Vanera had better luck awakening Tanurendal from his stupor by means of a hot, spicy broth. Either the poison on the arrow was not particularly virulent, or the beefy Cheibori's strong constitution was enough to shrug it off.

During the battle, Reiana had noticed (being well-versed in the lore of her ancestral enemies the Nalshbori) that the scouts they had fought came from two different tribes: The Blood-Hand and the Grayfox. 

Wound seen to, the Company purposed not to leave the place until the unholy altar had been broken down. This was no easy matter: to do so in such a way that would render it unfit for future sacrifice, the altar would have to be disassembled, all combustible parts burned in a bonfire, and then the ashes and the stones of the altar scattered in running water. Reiana and Tengelbur undertook to do this (the others were too daunted by the evil and corruption of the altar), and over the course of two hours they managed to disassemble the altar, haul its pieces up to the surface, build a bonfire, and collect the ashes and stones, which were divided among the company. As they did this, Tengelbur sang the lay which is known as The Last of the Stone-kings, which in the liturgy of the Sacred Well is often sung to accompany ceremonies of cleansing. 

As they finished this work, Reiana heard the sound of movement in the woods to the Southeast, and the Company guessed that the fire must have been seen, and that the Nalshbori warbands (whose scouts they had killed) were now upon them. Moving at a run through the withered wood, the party narrowly managed to escape the clutches of their enemies without losing their way in the maze of trees. 

With half the Company wounded or weary, they have arrived at last at Galal-i-Yalir, where Reiana has business with Sir Ralus himself...

Session 9: The Ruin in the Wood

After resting for the night in Karet Cheykor, the party made their way across the Cheyth--an easier crossing in the Summer--and followed the old King's road, here little more than a dusty track, to the mining settlement of Kor-Ikush.

Lying within sight of the battlements of Galal-i-Yalir, Kor-Ikush was built within an ancient cleft of the hills, with tall craggy spires of rock reaching skyward on either side like the two hands of some forgotten giant. Kor-Ikush is a small frontier settlement, its main street scarce more than a longish strip of packed earth meandering snake-like amid the rocks. The folk of Kor-Ikush are hardy folk, risking the clear danger of frequent Nalshbori raiding parties in order to be closer to the Amber Mines of the Serth Hatama.

Sparsely populated, Kor-Ikush was more of a shanty town than it was a proper settlement, with most of its denizens currently off working their claims or hauling their finds back to Karet Cheykor. In that sense, Kor-Ikush is more of a waypoint for the miners, having few permanent residents. The party managed, however to talk to at least two of them:

• Paraman One-Hand, the village headman. A sleazy, avaricious man, Paraman's left hand has been petrified due to long proximity to the Serth Hatama.
• Amartja the Washer-Woman. With large eyes set too far apart on her head and webbed hands, Amartja has clearly suffered corruptions of her own due to a lifetime on the edge of the withered wood.

Going to speak with Paraman, Tengelbur and Reiana managed (after a small outlay of coin) to glean information as to the direction that Onerama's amber-miners set out in. Paraman hinted that they had headed in the direction of one of the tombs of the Stone-Kings, indicating they may not have been looking for amber at all.

In the meantime, the twins (Vanera and Anaris) along with Tanurendal spoke with the deformed washer-woman. After trying to sell each other off to the washer-woman, she offered to tell them where were the men they sought--so long as they would agree to do a favor for her. At last and after much agonizing, Anaris agreed to the favor without knowing what it was, and she was given a small cloth bundle to bury beneath a certain tree she would find in the woods. The party was then instructed to travel straight Southeast, and that after they had gone as far as a swallow flies in an hour, they would find the men they sought. But the men would not be returning from the Serth Hatama, for they had apparently "read a book" which was forbidden them.

Following Amartja's instructions, the party stopped along the way to bury a package -- which Anaris opened against Amartja's command -- and revealed a small human toe. Without any knowledge of who the toe belonged to or why they were burying it, Anaris did the deed and the party continued on their way. They came at last to the ruins of an ancient fortress in the woods, build in the short and squat style common in the Second Eon. Searching the ruins, they found:

• A bronze tablet buried to commemorate the construction of the fortress, reading:
• Ika-karhala Orrula, Weiksura anyalir ijilan kjanlases ika-amnoxam abla-serthatama abiyauv-inla.
• Adverbial phrase: (In the fourth [year] of Orril [‘s kingship]) Main sentence: (Weiksura this fortress built) (For the Purpose of) To upon the plain before the Serth Hatama stand.
• Traces indicating that the ruined fortress has been habitually used by camps of Nalshbori, probably by multiple tribes.
• The personal effects of the miners they were seeking, though the miners themselves are gone (although there are a suspicious number of stone trees standing within the ring of the fortress...)
• An ancient staircase, rebuilt fairly recently with stone from the outside of the fortress, leading down into a chamber beneath the old tower. There they found a bloody altar, obviously consecrated (or rather desecrated) to the worship of the Bloody Vulture. Beneath the altar, after cringing beneath its dark shadow, the party found a chamber which appeared to be used for stores and loot by the Nalshbori who often camped here.

Up above, Tanurendal and Vanera (who had remained as lookouts) spend some time setting up traps to prevent surprise. These are apparently ineffectual, and Tanurendal is spotted by a half-dozen Nalshbori warriors who appear suddenly upon the scene...

A Letter Home: Vanera

Dearest Mother,

After wintering in Hural Yalir, I have finally traveled back to Karet Cheykor with a group of adventurers that brought supplies to the fort. The winter was long and supplies had been running short due to ambushies on the supplies wagons. I must say the men at the fort had been growing tired of me for some time, but especially after a Nalshbori attack in which they did not appreciate my help in combat.

I have spent the spring working with Palfeinan the scholar in the Norinlakor. You will remember my writing about him in a past letter. Rest assured dear mother that I am doing well and am very happy. I have experienced and learned things that I am most excited for you to read about in my book.

I must say I was quite surprised to find that Anaris has joined me. Did you know about her coming? I must say it's a great burden to me. I feel the responsibility of taking care of her greatly. Should she not be at home working on needlework with my other sisters? It is most inconvenient to have her here. She lacks the social graces that a woman of her age and upbringing ought to possess. I find myself having to apologize for her rude conduct constantly.

A woman ought to possess a certain gentle quietness, a gracefulness of manner, a confidence in her baring, yet a cunning wit about her. I think a woman of Vitherai’s temperament would suit me well, though Feala possess that wit about her I find so charming in a woman. I am afraid there is not a trait which my sister Anaris possess that I find worthy of admiration. Though I do confess she handles a sword better than I can, but only because she did not apply herself to the arts as I have done.

Please send along any news you have of the social life in Sencankarr, any bits of gossip you have heard (who all was at the festivals and who was not, little things like that), and all about the latest fashions. I ask not for myself, for I could care less about the social scene, but all the women in Karet Cheykor seem to think I know all about it, and I find myself having to make up what broche the Baroness wears, and how she is now wearing her hair, and what colors in dress are the most popular at the moment.

I do not know when I will be able to write again, for I have taken a job with this group of adventurers to find four lost amber miners. Hopefully it will help me in gathering more information for my book.

Give my love to Vitherai, Feala, Talivara, and to Father as well. 

Your devoted son,

Venera

Session 8: Onerama the Bald

Having spent their Spring Fellowship Phase in Cheykor, the party observed the Feast of Eibram, which marked the beginning of summer, in the traditional Amborian fashion. This included a solemn parade through the village culminating in an assembly of the whole village before the Sacred Well at the summit of the hilltop, followed by three days of dancing and feasting on wild game and fresh-caught fish, seasoned with the fermented remains of last summer's catch.

On the 4th day of Wanorsuna the Calf, the party was relaxing at leisure in the common room of the Cracked Beaker, getting to know Vanera's younger sister Anaris, a heavily-armed young woman who had apparently "seen some action" in the service of one of the March-Lords on the western edge of the kingdom. She had subsequently followed her older brother out to the Marches of the Cheyth, where she hopes to make a name for herself [Anaris is Arthur's new character, replacing Orusen].

Tengelbur showed a manuscript to Vanera, a copy he had made of a document he had found in the Norinlakor during the previous weeks [as part of his Fellowship Phase undertaking]. There had been several parts of the original manuscript either too damaged or too obscure for Tengelbur's little training, and he hoped Vanera would be able to help him decipher them. But Vanera was able to make out nothing of Tengelbur's copy, and decided they would need to see a copy of the original manuscript.

As they sat and discussed all of this, the Company was approached by Telini--the beautiful, red-headed fletcher whom Teithbor (again absent tonight) had met upon first arriving in Cheykor. By now all of the Company knew her at least by sight, and greeted her gladly as she joined them at their table. Telini bore greetings from Onerama the Bald, a local farmer and landowner, believed by some (most of whom work for him) to be the real power in Cheykor. Onerama had, Telini said, a job he would like the Company to undertake based upon their valorous deeds the previous Spring, and promised that they would all be rewarded handsomely. Agreeing dine at Onerama's house that night and at least hear his proposal, the Company made preparations to leave.

Vanera and Tanurendal went to the Norinlakor to see if they could get the original of the manuscript which Tengelbur had copied. Palfeinan the scholar was there, moving things about in his usual obscure way. When Vanera tried to get him to turn over the manuscript (which he insisted was in the month of Setelnor, while in the library it was still only Palkaro) Palfeinan nearly had a nervous breakdown, followed by his pushing everyone out and locking the door of the building due to a "total eclipse of the sun." Ten minutes later, when the library re-opened, Palfeinan promised (at great personal distress) to set the manuscript aside when it came up in a couple of days. Vanera repaid him by spending two hours painstakingly helping him move manuscripts from one shelf to another in the strange, arc-like movements Vanera had become accustomed to after helping him the previous spring [as part of his Spring fellowship undertaking].

Having had no luck getting the manuscript out of Palfeinan (or finding it themselves) the party traveled the six miles north of Cheykor to Onerama's farm, arriving a little before sundown.

Onerama's farm is located about six miles north of town, nestled in cleft in the hills on the western side of the river valley. Here the land is fertile, but somewhat elevated for drainage, and as you approach you can see the rows of barley and grain still green and stiff in the bright afternoon light of early summer. Onerama himself sees you coming, for there is only one pathway in and out of the valley where his farm stands, and he is apparently already out working in the fields when you approach. You see him hot from work, a big man, with muscles like knotted cord beneath a layer of comfortable insulation. He is bald, as you have heard, and his head is covered in pockmarked in what appear to be small burn scars. He is naked to the waist, apparently not content to merely supervise his workers. All told there are about thirty men working out in the fields here, and you would guess that when it comes time for the harvest, that number is doubled. The thick , heady smell of fermenting barley wine and the slight sulphur of distillation hangs over the valley, drowning out the smells of moor and river you have grown accustomed to during your time in the North.

"Welcome, my friends, to Karet Onerama. Or so I hope to call it someday, if fate is kind. Pardon me if I have not met you with, shall we say, royal ceremony, but I think you will not find my board ungenerous. Come, now. We will not talk business until you have feasted on the best we poor Cheibori have to offer."

As it turns out, the best Onerama has to offer is quite rich indeed. The meal begins with a sweet, rich rice wine mixed with honey and sage, followed by eggplants and caviar cooked in garlic and fat, seasoned with cumin, and served on crisp rice cakes. The main meal is of sweet-and-sour lamb flavoured with cinnamon and ginger, garnished with sugared almonds and the roast legs of rabbits. The meal finishes with stewed pears in rice wine, spiced with cinnamon and ginger. The whole meal is rich, and by the time it is over you have eaten and drunk your fill--and possibly a bit more. Several of the younger members of the household stand. A harp and some drums are started up, and they begin to dance. Onerama leans in now for more serious conversation, and as he raises a hand and the music lowers, he begins to speak...

Although Onerama has made his fortune primarily on the export of grain (and things, like barely wine and spirits, which can be made from various cold-weather grains; grain does not grow in the Royal Wood, where rice is the main staple), he has recently attempted to dip his toe in the amber trade. Yesterday, he received word that a group of amber miners whom he had hired, based out of Kor-Ikush, had not returned when expected. Fearing the worst and knowing the Company's reputation, he seeks to hire them to go in after his miners and bring them out again, or, if that is not possible, to bring word to him of their fate so that we can avenged. Onerama put great weight on this last point: it seems he attaches great importance to loyalty. The miners were named Tsuperal, Feiyaleth, Amsotha, and Keila (the only woman of the bunch).

As the party discussed terms with Onerama, Telini rose and invited Tanurendal to dance with her. As they danced, she spoke to him softly of how Onerama had looked after her, of her own tragic past (she lost her family in the same raid that claimed the lives of Tanurendal's village), and of her general suspicions of his Sothbori comrades. Tanurendal assured her they were trustworthy.

After spending the night at Onerama's house, the Company returned briefly to Cheykor, where they did a bit of asking around about the miners--and about Onerama--before crossing the river. Anaris spoke with Fjalakar, the town's aging midwife, who tried to warn her off from working for Onerama, but the conversation soured when Fjalakar became increasingly shocked by Anaris' total flouting of social norms. Vanera interviewed Vitherai the Amber Cutter, who was apparently more interested in the latest gossip from Sencankarr than answering the young scholar's questions, although she had no reason to think Onerama was not at least "on the level" with his offer of employment.

With plans laid and the road before them, the Company at last prepared to cross the river and head for the mining settlement of Kor-Ikush.

Session 7: Return to Karet Cheykor

Wounded, weary, and haggard from the dangers of the road, the company arrived at long last at Hural Yalir, where they found the fort recovering from the aftermath of a Nalshbori assault some two days prior. The gates of the fort were still heavily scarred from the battering of a heavy stone ram, and a mound of charred Nalshbori corpses was heaped up beside the road on the far side of the causeway leading up to the fort. The company was greeted by a short, burly sergeant named Gamlonhal and his detachment of spearmen, who escorted the company--and the supply wagons--into the fort. 

That night the company was entertained by the hospitality of Commander Setela, a late middle-aged man with a hawkish face and the reserved, refined manners of a loyalist of the old Orrinuan faction. The company told them all their tale, minus the existence of the sword of Mawish and the specifics of some of their more unusual experiences in the Serth Hatama (specifically the Swan-Woman's lake and the tusked lion Teithbor encountered). Setela spoke bitterly and--perhaps--a little too freely of the troubles they had experienced as the strange corruption of the Serth Hatama crept ever closer to the River, and the Nalshbori marched ever more boldly against them. "And such things will continue until the Sword of Kings is wielded again by one who sits upon the throne in Sencankarr." Then he fell silent.

Sitting quietly at the table, a few places down from Commander Setela, was Vanera, a young scholar from Sencankarr [and Hope's new character, replacing the fallen Hasanyah] who had come North hoping to compile a book of lore on the Serth Hatama. But, not knowing well the land or the weather, he had timed his trip poorly, and was forced to winter with the legionnaires of Hural Yalir as the cold nights stretched on and the supplies grew ever more scarce. He proved of little use in the defense of the fort during the Nalshbori assault a couple of days prior, and by now the men of the fort had grown tired of the useless scholar consuming their rations and contributing little to their aid. But as the commander's guest Vanera still sat at the table, and as he listened to the company's story he recognized several elements from his own studies:

1) Mawish, the name of the Nalshbori commander with whom Tanurendal evidently has some experience, was also the name of the Nalshbori commander at the Siege of the Red Isle. Vanera particularly recalled a few verses which told of the slaying and capture of the two paladins Neras and Neralu by the monsters under Mawish's command:

A double sorrow even once to tellOf how the sons of Orufal their swordsQuenched, as 'round their feet the foemen fell,And spent their strength their monarch's flight to guard.Their eyes were shining as the Western stars,Which green as em'ralds blaze at break of day,And at their wrath the Nalshbori gave way.
Then Mawish, who with coldly burning hateTheir valor watched amid his black-helmed guard,Commanded that the brothers should be chainedAnd taken down to torment in the dark.But the Nalshbo captains feared those flashing swordsWhich helm and sark alike did bite and hew.But Fanhal's forces fled as the brothers slew.
Then round them monsters ranged, their eyes as coals--Those horny-headed creatures of the NorthWho raged among the wastes of winter cold--And fell upon those mighty men of worth.How great the battle when they sallied forth,The sons of Orufal in shining wrath,To cleave their way as ship's prow cleaves a path.
Then one beast leapt on high; his gaping mawWas full of bristling teeth in many rows.He clutched at Neras with long and poisoned clawsAnd pulled him down amid his own death throes.For Neras' sword had pierced that savage foe,As hunter's spear the charging leopard slays;But burning poison coursed through Neras' veins.
Then, high and piercing Neralu cried outAs thrice his flashing blade that awful hostDismayed, until a rushing scarlet goutOf blood from neck a gory wound disclosed.He falls, but shouts drive back the fearful foesAs Fanhal's rear-guard rally to their aidAnd scatter beasts with spears and flashing blades.
Then up they bore the bodies of those twainWho spilled their blood to guard the holy king.And from the precious life-blood of that swainA crimson stream had run down to the sea.And issuing from the rock a crystal springJoined the blood, and cleansed the purple stone,And made a certain wall against the foe.
For none who were by Orkon's pow'r corruptWould dare that crystal barrier essay,Nor would the hallowed waters dare to touch,So Fanhal won the passage of the gate.And still the Ambori revere that placeWhere long ago the brothers stood and died,And by their blood all Orkon's host defied.

2) Concerning the vulture cult and the altar in the Bent Grove, Vanera recognized clear elements of the ancient cult of Tauran-Tauror, Devourer of the Slain, an ancient deity or demon who has cropped up numerous times in the history of the Ambori. The worship of the Bloody Vulture is said to have originated in Feihoth of old, where it was taught to the apostate Treianraal by Vishnarr himself. It was brought to the North during the Dark Years, when Orkon subjugated the young Ambori nation, and elements of the cult still linger in the North today, in the form of the great vultures which the Cheybori often train as hunting birds. The rise of the vulture cult is always a sign of ill-omen, a presage of more dire things to come, as is told in the lay which is called The Siege of the Red Isle:

Great and globe-eyed monsters, long of tooth,

Scrape the slimy depths and curse the Day.

They pull down mighty forests for their food,

And breed and feed in ecstasies of hate.

The poisoned tides, like crooked fingers shaped,

Retract and grasp with the waning of the Moon

And trace the cancerous litany of doom.

And on the moor a Vulture circles high

And croaks a song of dead men's bones and spleens.

He laughs to watch the hapless mortals fight,

And sacrifices to his altar bring. 

There the blood runs down like ragged wings

On stones no song of love can ever cleanse

Until the Making Song is sung again.

...

"Then too, a bloody vulture darkly flies

Above our towns, and calls to desperate men.

They, hearing Death's own promise in his cries,

Have followed him into the withered fens.

From thence, when drums are heard, with fell intent

They come to carry off again some wight

To sacrifice amid the grove at night.

"Nine of birds and beasts and sons of men

They hang about their groves which drip with gore;

Nine of birds and beasts and fish that swim

They gut, and paint their blood upon our doors.

And in the stony forest sound the horns

Of Orkon's host, the Nalshbori in arms

Who yielded long ago to Orkon's charms."

The party rested four days at Hural Yalir, during which time Reiana approached Commander Setela, trying to intimate that she too was a loyalist and of his party. The commander remained standoffish, perhaps because of Reiana's clumsy approach. Tengelbur questioned Vanera to see if he knew anything about the Swan-Woman they encountered, or what Orusen's fate might have been, seemingly determined to rescue his friend if possible. But Vanera had never heard of anything like the Swan-Woman, and could only draw vague parallels to enchantresses in other stories he had read. But the scholar offered to accompany Tengelbur should he return to the Serth Hatama, as his own research would lead him there sooner or later.

At last, their wounds healed and their weariness somewhat abated, the party returned without incident to Karet Cheykor, which after everything they've been through over the last two weeks is beginning to feel like home. There we had the Spring Fellowship Phase:

• Reiana used her newfound treasure to raise her Standing to 2.
• Tanurendal spent time in the smithy, forging a new coat of mail for himself lighter than his old hauberk. [Took the Crafting undertaking, rolled well, added Cunning Make to his armor]
• Vanera spent time in the norinlakor of the town, in the company of the scholar Palfeinan, copying down old texts about the Serth Hatama, hoping the lore would be useful in the days to come. [Took the Copy a Text undertaking, gained the benefit of Serth Hatama-lore for the next Adventuring phase]
• Tengelbur spent time talking to the locals and reading in the norinlakor, straining the little he had learned before he abandoned the scriptorium at Sencankarr, trying to figure out what might have happened to Orusen. [Took the undertaking Search for Answers]

Session 6: The Grey King

Teithbor, meanwhile, had been separated from the party by one of the strange mists which frequently rose up in the forest, obscuring his view of his companions. It turns out that Teithbor (perhaps because he was raised on an island largely without trees) has about as much a chance of finding his way in a forest as a fly out of a spider's web. Wandering blindly through the trees, he came at last upon a level, sandy clearing, in the midst of which was a pool. The pool, some ten or twelve feet deep, was perfectly clear, and in the gravel bed of the pool Teithbor could see dozens of bright gems shining. 

More immediate to Teithbor's concerns, however, was the lion. Teithbor had never seen a lion, except in pictures--in heraldry, or in friezes and mosaics on the Red Isle--but there was no mistaking this creature. Huge and tawny, big as a horse, big as a house, the lion stood there, watching him, long fang-like tusks gleaming white in the refracted light of the pool. Teithbor hesitated, then took a step forward, trying to placate the lion with soft words. It made no response, nor movement, only watching him with his huge green eyes. 

Carefully, Teithbor circled around the outer edge of the pool. And though the lion turned to watch him, it made no attempt to bar Teithbor's approach. Studying the pool, Teithbor saw that the basin was indeed studded with bright gems--diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and pearls. Again Teithbor made an attempt to approach the lion.

This time he was greeted with a low growl. "What do you desire, O Man?"

"It talks," Teithbor said to himself. "Who are you, lord?"

"I am the guardian of this pool. Tell me, what is your business here?"

"I am Teithbor of the Red Isle. I am seeking my friends, who I have lost in these woods."

"You will not find them here."

"And what will I find here? What is this pool which you guard?"

"This pool is the desire of all men."

"And what is it that all men desire?"

"Do you not know? Men desire wealth. Security. Power. All of these things the pool will grant you."

Teithbor hesitated. "But I do not desire any of those things."

The lion's head tilted, slowly, as if in curiosity. "Then what do you desire?"

"I desire that the kingdom should be restored... that the true king should sit again upon the throne of Sencan."

The lion gave out a low rumble, which might have been a growl, or a laugh. "Then this pool is not for you."

Taking the beast at his word, Teithbor turned and left the clearing behind him. Only once he looked back over his shoulder, and saw the pool, twinkling with gems, and no sign of the lion. But he left its promise of wealth behind and went to find his friends.

---

Orusen's time with the Swan-Woman passed in a haze of beauty, a simple life of sweet waters, of Alyeitalya's beauty, of the honking of geese and the fair sun shining above him, so that at last he had almost forgotten even that he had promised to render her a service. Every morning Alyeitalya offered him a drink of the waters, and every day she left him in the cottage to lead the geese across the glass-smooth waters of the lake. Every evening she returned again to offer him a second drink from the pitcher, which is always full when her hands touch it, and in the deep cold draughts of that pitcher he found forgetfulness, even healing--if indeed loss can heal. 

But there came at last a day when he knew he could not remain at the cottage. And though Alyeitalya did not tell him he must leave, instead of giving him a drink that morning, she led him to the edge of the lake. 

"And now," she says, "the time has come for you to go where I cannot follow. Others have sworn the things which you have sworn, and they have crossed the lake, and they have never left. But whether you win or no, and whether or no you lay my love to rest upon the Island of the Dead, yet I will love you as I have loved the others, and I will not cease to care for you while my bond to this place lasts. Now, that you may speed upon your way, and so that your feet may not stray from the path your tongue has set for them, I lay upon you these bans: 

"First, you must not speak aloud the thing that you desire. Second, that you must not look upon the thing which you fear. Third, that you must not refuse a gift, whatever gift is offered. If you do not do these three things, then you may win at last where others have failed. And now, farewell. We may meet again when the sun rises over the lake; but I will pray it is not so."

With these instructions ringing in his ears, Orusen began to swim across the lake towards the dark island.

There is no boat to carry you across the water to the Isle of the Dead, but for a Deep Man that is no great difficulty. It is not an over-long swim, and the waters here are still and clear. The bottom of the lake is deep, a bed of black sand streaked with veins of silver. Now and then large rocks or small groves of waterweed add some variety to the lake bed, while here and there a shoal of small, bright silver fish dart in and out among them. But this lake is not like the Sea of your native home. There are no murky depths, no hungry eyes peering up at you out of the darkness. Gone too are the fantastic hulks of ancient wrecks or the multicolored reefs of coral and anemones which stud the deep as with a hidden treasure. If this lake is peaceful, that peace may have come at the price of not only great danger, but great beauty.

It is only as you near the further shore, and the dark island on the horizon, that the water becomes darker, as though the sky had grown gray and overcast above you. Thick mists and shadow envelop you, so that it is with some surprise that your feet strike sand again, and you find yourself stepping onto the dark and rocky shore of a craggy island. All around you, geese are honking, many of them too concealed by the mist for you to actually see, and you realize that whatever stealth you may have intended, your coming has not been unnoticed by the denizens of the island.

As he stood there in the mist, he thought he saw a warm yellow light -- like a candle or a lantern winking in the distance. Picking his way through the stones and mist, he found a small grey cottage--not unlike the Swan-Woman's, but more ramshackle and broken down. But for all that there was a warm yellow light streaming out of the window, and a trace of smoke curling upwards from the chimney, and Orusen realized that, deep man though he was, he was cold. Approaching, he knocked at the cottage door.

The door was opened by four ancient crones, their skin sagging and stretched over ancient bones, their chins twisted and gnarled, their fingers like twisted roots, their teeth yellow and chipped. They pulled him inside with leathery hands as they greeted him. 

Crone 1:

Who is this traveler out of the depths?

What brings him questing with trembling steps?

Crone 2:

Madness and gladness and surfeit of hope,

A dainty so sweet as to stick in his throat.

Inside the cottage, Orusen saw that nearly the entire space of the ramshackle building was taken up with a huge and ancient loom, upon which the four crones had been weaving. There were two curious things which he noticed about the loom: the first was that the yarn with which the crones were spinning seemed to be made of grey goosefeathers strung along. This seemed strange, but he had little time to question it, for the more immediately concerning thing about the loom was that into the tapestry was woven a perfect picture of himself. It was Orusen, frozen in fear, gazing in terror upon something--but upon what, Orusen could not quite make out, for the tapestry was yet unfinished. But the Crones gave him no time to consider the implications of this, dancing about him, fingering his clothes, his hair.

Crone 3:

He comes here to lay the Gray King to rest.

He comes here to try the Swan-Woman's quest.

Crone 4: 

Bring him before the Gray Monarch's throne.

Drag him within the Circle of Bones.

Crone 1:

Her waters are deep.

Crone 2: 

Her waters are sweet.

Crone 3: 

Long have their bodies lain in a heap.

Crone 4:

The Gray Goose sits on a nest of dead things.

The Gray Goose sits on the corpses of kings.

"Tell us, traveler," said one of them at last. "Tell us what is your name, and why have you come to the Island of the Dead?"

Orusen cleared his throat. "I am Orusen, Child of the Water and the Sky, and I have come to lay the Swan-Woman's lover to rest, and so free her from her bond."

In that moment, the moment that Orusen stated the thing he desired to do, he felt a strange prickling and itching on his neck. Raising his hand to scratch it, his nails came away bloodied and covered in small grey feathers. The Crones only cackled, answering,

Follow the trickle of Red Imram's tears

Up to its source in the dew of the hills.

Pass through the valley of pitiless winds,

Stand on the mountain gibbering men.

River and mountain, valley and gale;

These bar the spirits of the men on the hill.

The Gray King sits on a circle of bones.

The Gray King broods on a rotting corpse-throne.

Up the dead man's mount and stop your tender ears,

For naught in the darkness whispers, save fear.

Leaving the cottage, Orusen stopped at the window, watching the crones as they returned to their weaving. He stood there a long time in the cold and the mist, watching as they wove each strand of grey yarn and the monstrous figure on the tapestry slowly began to take shape. That was when the memory came back to him for the first time since he had come to the Swan-Woman's lake--

Suddenly, as though the Waters of Forgetfulness have no efficacy in this place, you remember your theft, the cause of your exile from your people--the day that, in the darkness of the deep places of the sea, you put your hand to the Thing Forbidden. There were eyes watching you that day, something dark and sun-hating with huge luminescent globes peering down at you out of an inky black crevasse. You had fled that day with your ill-gotten gains, but you have always felt as though something was hunting you...

Recoiling in horror from the monster on the loom, Orusen reached up to his neck and cheek, where he felt soft, downy feathers beginning to sprout, and he remembered the second ban that had been placed upon him:

"Do not look upon the thing which you fear."

Eager to put as much space as he could between himself and the baleful cottage, Orusen began to follow a small, swiftly flowing rivulet ("Red Imram's tears") up towards the craggy summit of the mountains. 

Following the river slowly upwards into the craggy foothills of the dark island, you are forced to stop several times to pick out a path through the sharp black rocks, which seem to rise up to meet you like jagged sentinels to bar your passage. Looking back over your shoulder, you no longer see any sign of the blue crystal lake, the cottage, or the alpine valley which you left, and you begin to wonder if they may have been an illusion all along. Still you soldier on, until at last you pick out what you believe to be some sort of path of rough-hewn stone, running more or less parallel to the river. This you follow, ever conscious of the fact that the world around you seems to be growing colder. A wind is picking up. Ahead of you, both the river and the path you are following seem to enter a narrow cleft in the rock, out of which a cold wind is whistling. 

With a great effort, Orusen forced his way through the Cleft of the Winds, nearly crushed by boulders which came crashing down as he passed. Many times he was tempted to turn back from his quest, but each time he resisted the urge, pressing onward up through the sharp stones and darkness, until at last he reached the summit.

You're weary. You've been walking for hours, as far as you can tell. But finally, just when you thought you had no more strength left, the path crests the top of the mountain. Instead of the craggy peak you'd expected to reach, you find yourself standing within a flat ring of standing stones, some thirty feet in diameter. At the base of each great standing stone there is a nest, made of the bones and armor of a corpse long-decayed, and over each nest hovers a gray spirit, feathery somehow, but definitely in the form of a man. 

And in the center of the ring you see a gray spirit, tall and dreadful, and on his head is a crown of bones. There is a naked sword in his hand, and he stands above his nest to greet you, his skeletal jaw cracking as it expands wide. The other spirits in the bone ring begin to chant:

The Gray Goose sits on a nest of dead things.

The Gray Goose sits on the corpses of kings.

And the Grey King stepped forward and greeted Orusen, demanding, "Who are you, and why do you come as a living man unto the court of the Grey King?"

And once again, Orusen answered the question plainly. "I am Orusen, child of the water and sky, and I have come to lay you to rest and free the Swan-woman from her bond."

And in that moment, Orusen's left arm became the grey wing of a goose. And the Grey King said,

"I greet you, weary traveler, who have come so far to the Court of the Gray King. Drink now deeply of the cup of forgetfulness I will give you. Drink now deeply... of death. This is the gift I offer. For the spirits of the dead do not remember their sorrow when they sit in the court of the Gray King."

Then Orusen stepped forward, and bared his neck to the Grey King, and said, "I accept the gift."

Then the sword of the Grey King descended, and cleaved Orusen's head from his shoulders. His head fell to the ground with a heavy, wet thump, and as Orusen stood the spirits began to laugh. Then the Grey King laughed, and Orusen laughed, and as two of the grey spirits came forward to drag Orusen's corpse to the empty base of one of the great standing stones, Orusen danced and capered madly about the Grey King's throne, and thought never again of the Swan-woman, or of his curse, or of the sky and sea which birthed him.

---

Wounded and weary from the Battle of the Bent Grove, the companions gathered around the dying body of Hasanyah. Tengelbur covered her with his cloak as she breathed her last. "Tell my brother... tell him not to waste his life. Tell him I am sorry for how we parted." Those were her last words. Wounded and weary and heavy with sorrow, the three remaining members of the company slowly began the cold and bloody work of burying the bodies of the slain. They cut down the sacrificial victims, both man and beast, for the men intending graves, and for the beasts and slain cultists a single great grave. And Tanurendal, leaning over the sword which Mawish had let fall at his defeat, recognized in the scarred and pitted blade the weapon which had greedily slit the throats of his sister, his mother, and then at last even his traitorous father. Tengelbur harvested some of the red amber, cutting a sizable chunk of it which he then realized might be used either to make himself wealthy, or to forge a weapon of great power.

It was about this time that Tanurendal and Tengelbur saw Reiana stagger and realized she had been wounded in the fight. Neither of them had the leechcraft necessary to see to her wounds, however it was at that moment that Teithbor found the rest of the company. As before, and with the timely application of the herbs he had gathered the previous day, he was able to staunch the deadly wound. Searching the surrounding wood for stones to use in the burial cairn, Teithbor managed to find both the mule teams they had lost the previous day--with most of the stores still in tact--as well as a cache of supplies and treasure evidently kept by the cult. Most of this treasure the party chose to bury with their fallen comrades, Reiana keeping only an intricate golden chain, like a growing vine of pure gold, evidently the work of the Kothorlas. The others placed their share of the treasure in the wagons, and then used shovels from the supply wagons to complete the construction of the burial mounds.

When at last all was made ready, but two things remained: first, to dispose of the sword of Mawish. Tengelbur picked it up first, intending first to break and then to bury it. But when he felt it in his hands he realized that here was a weapon of great worth, the likes of which he might never see again, and it was only with a great act of the will that he could endeavor to break it. But the blade was too ancient and too strong to be broken by mere force. Then Tengelbur attempted to bury it, but again he could not bring himself to lay it aside. 

Then Tanurendal snatched it from his hands, intending himself to dispose of it. But the malice of the blade reached out to the vengeance in Tanurendal's heart, and he realized that with this weapon he could give him the revenge against the servants of Orkon which he so greatly desired. Only with a great act of the will did Tanurendal fling the weapon aside, and there it still lies--as far as anyone knows--amid the twisted and petrified trees of the Bent Glade. 

The second and final task was the funeral itself. Since there was no Well Priestess among the group, Reiana sang the part of the Well Priestess while her three companions were mourners, and they sang the lament of Sanur for his brothers after they had been slain by the servants of Orkon.

And Reiana sang,

Sanur mighty, famed for warfare

Laid his brothers in a barrow,

Laid them there amid the Stone-kings,

Laid them there on heaps of treasure

Long ago, with many sorrows.

Sanur lay them clad in mail-shirts,

Set bright rings upon their fingers.

There the treasures of the barrow

Sanur gave into their keeping

In the hall of ancient Stone-kings.

There beneath the ancient shining

Stars which long ago did glimmer

Sanur lay his mighty brothers:

Bold Setela, famed for hunting;

Teithbor, hardy battle-lion.

Sanur sang this song above them:

And Tengelbur sang,

“Heark ye winds, blowing coldly,

Hear this Son of Sky and Water:

Do not harm, if you should meet them,

Mighty sons of Sad Nanalon.

“Let them pass through howling wastelands—

Let them find the endless stairway

Leading down to where, forgotten,

Ancient heroes wait for judgment.

Do not drive their spirits cruelly.

“Not forgotten are these heroes.

Ever we their names remember

Who this world of tears and sorrow

Fill with songs of mighty conquests.

Spread their fame, ye ancient storm-gales.

And Tanurendal sang,

“Hark ye mountains, proud and ancient!

Stand as witness to their valor,

Who in constancy and friendship

Well upheld the name of Sencan,

Well deserved a hero’s burial.

“Do not hinder, mighty mountains,

Do not bar the way their spirits

Take to find the endless Chasm

Where the souls of dead men wander

Waiting for the Day of Judgment.

“Stand as monument, O mountains,

To the might of Sencan’s offspring:

These two sons of Old Nanalon

Bitter Fate has claimed unbidden.

Let their names be long remembered.

And Teithbor sang,

“Hark ye rivers, wide and flowing,

Do not bar their passage o’er you.

These great-hearted men of valor

Bear the friendship of all waters.

Rather bear their fame undying.

“Bear to Southlands, hot and sun-scorched,

Where the high and craggy mountains

Darkly loom o’er ancient monarchs

Lying silent under granite.

Tell the ancient kings their valor.

“Bear it Westward, mighty rivers,

To the lands of ancient giants

Tall and lovely, proud and cruel,

Tell them of the might of mankind,

Of these sons of sky and water.

And Tanurendal sang again,

“Hark, ye dead! For now among you

Great souls dwell and bring you honor,

Great souls swell the waiting legions,

Waiting for the day of judgment:

Mighty Teithbor, Bold Setela.

“May the One who all things judges

Find them worthy, rest to enter:

They who never slew a kinsman,

Never struck in needless anger,

Always honored ancient fathers.

“Testify, O ancient fathers

How these sons of sad Nanalon

For the honor of their father—

For the throne of Holy Sencan—

Went to war, and fell in darkness.

“Long they languished under mountains.

Long they suffered wordless torments.

Testify, O ancient fathers,

Witness bear to what they suffered.

Let them find in death a solace.

And Tengelbur sang,

“Hark! Ye mighty gates of silver!

Ye who stand and bar the stairway

Which from gloom and twilight leads up—

Up to where the righteous heroes

Dwell beside the holy poets.

“Open wide and let them enter,

Those who now lay with the Stone-kings.

They have kept the ancient promise,

They fulfilled the oaths completely,

Never turned from death or duty.

“Open wide and let them enter

So that in the World of Starlight

Men may rightly speak of justice,

Rightly praise the blood of heroes

Shed for love of kin and country.

And all together the three mourners sang,

“Now ye storm-gales, coldly blowing,

Now ye mountains, proud and ancient,

Now ye rivers, widely flowing,

Now ye dead and ancient fathers,

Now ye gates of shining silver,

“All ye hear my song of sorrow.

Do not let these mighty warriors,

Sons of kings and sky and water,

Ever go down into darkness.

Let their names endure forever.

And Reiana sang,

“Nankeinala, Mighty Maker,

You who gave unto our fathers

Land and lordship, sky and water,

Evermore their names remember,

Though this world of tears shall end.”

So sang Sanur, mighty-hearted,

Then they closed the Hall of Stone-kings;

Then they sealed the ancient barrow,

Laid those princes down in splendor.

Sanur wept, and sang no longer.

So the grave was closed, and the rite ended, and with weary hearts the four companions led the mule teams away, and after long wandering came at last again out of the Serth Hatama, to the open road, and with heavy hearts and weary bodies arrived at the gates of Hural-i-Yalir.