THE GATES OF the hamlet reeked with the acrid fumes of urine and the wafting linger of sour-milk bread. A heavy mist hung about the dredges of a slimy moat that had long turned putrid and green but if it were a meal one wanted, the foul smell was no indication it would be found here.

In any case, rumor held strong in the wake of starvation and one champion after another gladly braved the obvious stench in favor of winning just one morsel, except and perhaps lucky for her, Fynna was not here for a meal.

No, she had approached the gates of the
Hamlet Tothinn for refuge, because not long into their journey to Delthir Pel as they entered the road to Berchtwald where they would meet Tarn Mogeimm they were ambushed.

Now, as darkness fell for the third night Fynna was beyond exhaustion. She tightened the oversized rug she had scrounged from the travel wagon around her shoulders and as she rested in the shadow of a giant leafed Starwort Fern, she had the buzzy feeling that things were a bit off about the small werf in the valley below her. The normal signs of life in the Grellian community were as conspicuously absent as the fire torches that usually lit the gates after dark. She saw no presence of watchmen or even of the cooking fires which always accompanied them.

But she needed to be in there, for Tothinn was also the place where her father had a council of Sage-Masters stationed. It was the only place between Delthir Pel and Riagon Loch where she could find safety and get word to Neris that she was alive and well, knowing by now her father would be beside himself with worry. The Sage-Masters were a powerful force when it came to potions and curatives, but they held no arcane against the fulcrum of Medgar. For this reason, the Blade Forged worked tirelessly to combat the complete takeover of Elidurre, but even they had their limits as proven when Riagon's men were rendered useless by Medgar's battle mages.

That particular afternoons heat had turned sultry, and it was with great relief to Fynna and Avesa when their detachment moved into the shaded bowers of the forested road that wound its way into the uplands of Aethelem Rel. The region boasted miles and miles of untouched green belt, ancient forests and lush hillocks which gradually climbed in elevation until one reached the mountains of Nethilor between the lands of Nethilor and Othmann. These mountains separated the land mass of the ancient Stone-Ciphers and the rest of the Kingdom of Hannelore. The land of Othmann stretched all the way to the western seacoast, Break Water Peninsula, and the Coastal Free Market, where the Grellian Embassy once flourished. Now, these lands lay long abandoned. Haunted and forlorn, a grim reminder of Medgar's treachery as his warlords ravaged, killed, and stripped the Grells of their children and pillaged all prosperity from existence.

Even the strongholds of Riagon, High Gate Tower Keep and Iron Helm Keep had been abandoned to Medgar's influence and his network of evil infiltrated every facet of the only home Fynna had ever known. And Riagon Nor himself was not immune for Medgar had ruthlessly killed his father Oziras Nor in a fit of vengeful rage, slicing him from stem to stern and that right in front of Riagon. Korian Grald often shared the stories of The Oath with her, though he had been only a child himself, and these were the reasons her blood ran thick with the hatred for Medgar and his kind. As the Eyes of Mother Mithras for her witness, one day, she planned to see Medgar defeated.

As the long afternoon shadows had covered the road beyond them, a stillness fell, and it was with trepidation the detachment from Ashling Rim entered the dark coolness of ancient backland groves. The men, who had before been jovial with rank conversations also fell silent and alert knowing what was at stake for them in these territories beyond civilization.

Avesa had fallen asleep in the back of the opulent, tapestried covered shay, blissfully unaware that she had been duped by Fynna who had given her nursemaid the special herbal elixir her father had tried to make her drink before leaving. Fynna was wise to Neris and his fatherly intentions and it was to her great relief that she was, when they rounded a tight curve in the way and the war horses were blasted with a tormentuous wind of sound and energy. The soldiers were thrown to the ground and their mounts screamed as agonizing fear scattered them. Some were tossed down the edge of the curve, rolling to their death and the unit attached to the shay followed them down. Fynna hung on for dear life but was blown out like a scarf on the wind and she tumbled down through the forest floor head over heel, slapped and cut and bruised all the way down until she landed in a dry ravine which was overcome with the tangled roots of dead Oxow trees. With her heart beating in her ears, she scrambled into the dense covering to hide, squeezing herself against the hard earth beneath the roots and there she stayed holding her breath in the moments after as she heard the screams of her father's five best men fight to the death against minions, they would have no power over. This death being preferable to the one they would have faced by returning to Blade Forged without her.

Fynna wept silently there under the Oxow roots for them. She vowed to make sure everyone knew of their valiant end. She heard the rustle of movement above her, heard the heated whispers of the Evoker vassals. She knew they searched for her. She could not allow her father's men to die in vain. She closed her eyes and prayed for the power of Mithras to hide her whereabouts from them. She knew the power of their arcane and that they held the ability to move sky and earth in their effort to obtain their masters bidding. Her foot slipped and a trickle of sandy dirt and pebbles flowed down the ravine. She heard a shout. Felt the earth move around her. Felt the weight of a pressure like bone-needle pricks to her skin and then the earth around her exploded. The Oxow roots which had hidden her now expanded pushing back the ground and lifted up as the webbed tentacles were sucked from the hard soil like giant fingers reaching for her. Hooded figures with exotic tinted skin floated out before her as she was laid bare from her hiding place. Fynna screamed. Sand swirled around her lifting her into the air before them with their leering maniacal smiles, their outstretched arms with crooked pointed fingers of bone and sinew. She clutched for the root stems but grasped only air as everything fled away.

A soundless guttural yell erupted from deep in her heart and suddenly the dark mage monks seemed to lose their bearings as another image took shape between her and them, causing Fynna to fall straight down crashing back into the ravine in a heap of shivering fear.

She looked, shielding her eyes with her arm from the raging, swirling wind-blown sand and leaves around her and into the piercing eyes of a vision of an apparition in flowing sheer veils which swirled around her like tongues of licking fire as she circled the magus the filmy material entwined around her opaque olive-hued shin, flowing freely and remarkably the magus fell away to the ground running into the surrounding forests, clearly afraid of her challenge.

Fynna screamed as the vision of the woman turned toward her. It rushed her there on the ground and floated inches from her face. The wind whipped around them and the force of it left Fynna flat on her back.

In a language unknown she spoke and power in the form of light pierced Fynna arching her backward and lifting her from the ground. She felt the arms of the ghostly woman around her, holding her, infusing her, her spirit breath softly entering her mouth as she spoke, then settling Fynna back to earth she arose into the sky and the wind went with her but her parting words shook the earth beneath her and their echo chilled Fynna to the bone for these words she understood.

'I bequeath to you the Power of Animist, authority over this natural realm, and all of its created inhabitants! Those of earth, sea and sky! I am Saiph and as I so render do you receive, for Aarius Grail is my Master and his arrival has awakened my desire that no natural thing shall do harm to you!'

Her ethereal voice wafted on the breeze, her arms lifted upward and in one flowing spin the specter gathered the wind around her and was gone, leaving Fynna trembling in the darkness and there she stayed until morning.