The

Guardians
Of
The
Marshes
By

JOHN BAXTER

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

Until the homesteads and villages were developed over in the

east, and the town of Picalda in the west to mine gold from the
mountains, only the Southern Lands, the marshlands, were known to
have been inhabited.
Of the many stories that came and went with time, only one stood
the test of time, the telling of the Southern People still remained. It
was said that these people possessed an amazing magic; an
awesome, all-powerful magic that black hearted men would kill to
possess.
As the ale flowed, the stories got even bigger and more
exaggerated.
Of course, it was only a story, just a yarn. The real legend has not
yet happened.

Chapter One
The room was in almost total darkness; the only illumination
entering this stone walled chamber was through a very small
opening high up on one of the longer walls, allowing a small shaft of
fading light to illuminate the wall opposite confirming how small this
place really was.
The walls were streaked with water, and dampness in the air
allowed the fungus to grow from the stone. Here, at some time
recently small rivulets of water had ran down the grooves between
the clumps of algae when the rains had been blown in by the
coming winter gales into the single opening above. The gales had
gone, and the rain had ceased, but the sound of the dripping residue
remained, beating out a quiet plopping rhythm on the floor. The
stench of dampness and stale animal droppings still filled the air,
making it feel so cold and unwelcoming.
On the floor, thick scatterings of a basic mix of straw with a little
sawdust added for absorption was spread unevenly throughout the
room, in an attempt to keep the floor of the almost corridor shaped
chamber dry, creating the first impression that this room must be
used as a sort of barn or stable, the safe night time home of the
beasts of the fields, brought in away from the dangers of the night
from the many wild and hungry animals that roamed the hills
around the area. Wolf and bear were known to hunt at night
throughout the valleys, according to the locals who lived in a small
village at the bottom of one of them, giving added credence to the
possible use of this room as a safe haven for stock.
This evening however, there was no livestock sheltering inside
this damp, dark room. It still wasnt empty.

Numerous nocturnal insects were beginning their forage for their

daily feasts, crawling among the old straw, trying to pick out some
tiny titbit of food from the dried droppings of the previous bovine or
equine residents. Little nibbles that the farmers or grooms had
missed when doing their cleaning out after the animals had returned
to the fields. This plethora of uncleared detritus allowed these
cockroaches to develop to quite a size, secreting themselves in the
daytime within the many large cracks in the old walls, emerging
only in the evening to gorge themselves when they felt it safe to do
so.
There were so many of these large, crawling creatures moving
across the floor under the straw, all of them trying to reach the food
first to claim the best parts, but there were so many, they had to all
feed together. With the heaving of so many creatures in such a
small area, it gave the impression that the floor was heaving
continuously, silently, and yet a fervour of activity.
In one of the corners, a large rat appeared from out of a small
hole, coming up through the floor. It paused, and sniffed the air,
cautiously, and quietly, checking this way and that. It was very
much aware of the masses of insects climbing over the top of each
other to secure what scraps lay hidden under or stuck to this putrid
straw.
These were not his focus of interest. He could sense something
else, something he couldnt see at first but could detect by his
powerful sense of smell, and what he detected was something that
was of great interest to him.
He could smell animal flesh. He could smell fresh animal flesh
with the distinct smell of blood emanating from it. Fresh because
this animal was still alive and being a coward he kept away for his
own safety. He knew that all he needed to do at present was bide his
time. He knew that this was now only a waiting game, all he had to
do was remain in the shadows until the animal was overcome by the
imminent death, and the prize would be his until the other members
of the rodent family below him in the hole smelt the pallor of death
and hungrily descended on the carcass.
He would have the first pickings, the choicest cuts.
He sat and watched his prey from a safe distance.
In the opposite corner, underneath a filthy old cloak, was a
bloodstained and severely beaten human being. Not very old,
maybe eight or nine years of age, this poor wretch was having
difficulty drawing breath because of the severe damage done to the
small ribcage that housed the lungs. Arms and legs were bruised
and swollen in many places, the joints of the fingers, arms, and
knees having been bent backwards in torture. The cloak moved from
the face as this poor wretch tried to move, in an effort to ease the
pain and be able to draw breath, but to no avail. This captive was a
young girl.
This young person had been brutally tortured by a sadistic welltrained torturer, every device available to invoke pain had been

used to try to break the information needed out of this little waif. His
employer had demanded that this information must be wrung out of
her at all costs. She had the key, she knew the answers.
Try as he might, this little girl had spirit, and even when her
fingernails were being forcibly pulled out of their nail beds, she
would not give up the information.
The rack had broken her limbs, and dislocated her joints; the whip
had left huge deep wields across her small back, which was bleeding
profusely, the first batch of clotting being removed by the whip the
second time. Even the red-hot branding irons used from the fires to
scorch her naked skin had still failed to make this child talk. He had
been on all day, and had learned nothing. The childs life was
slipping away when the torturer decided to stop and wait till the
next day, then try again, when his client was a little stronger.
The guard had carried this floppy package of a person to this
stable room, and dropped her in the corner, locking the door as he
left, something he need not have bothered to do, as this little girl
was too weak to do anything, and could not walk or crawl.
As she lay there, many thoughts were running through her young
head.
She lay there, suffering in extreme agony, broken and alone,
totally confused as to why these people were doing this to her.
Had she done something wrong? Had she upset perhaps a noble
or a landed gentleman without realising? Someone must be really
angry with her to have people do all of this to her. She was
confused, and frightened.
She lay, in agony, oblivious to the sounds of the straw moving
under her as the cockroaches continued their forage. She was
oblivious to the sounds of the rats, squeaking off at each other for
supremacy at the other end of the room. She had always been
oblivious to sound, as she was born deaf, a deaf mute. She even
now cried without sound.
Later that evening, in a way, a blessing, the rats got their feast.

Chapter Two
Above the small village of Alephin, on the hillside that bordered
the valley below, in the farmstead house surrounded by a garden,
Katrillion sat on the edge of her little wooden bed. She had fed her
little brothers the porridge mixture her mother had left there for her
to prepare just before they went to bed. She had tucked them in and
said goodnight to them in their wooden bunk beds, hand made by
their father for Katrillion and her sister Marally when they had been
younger. Condran, the elder of the two was the senior brother, being
all of twelve years old, so claimed the top bunk, while his younger
brother Beaden who was only ten, had no say in the matter.

Katrillion, who was now fourteen, and more or less a woman, had
her own bed, along one wall, with a clear view of the other siblings
around her, Marallys bed being at the foot of hers, though she
being almost nine, was no problem at all to look after.
She looked around the only room that was the total of the house
they lived in, the house itself made of sturdy wood planks, with dirty
cloths fixed around the walls to try to keep out the winds that
whistled through the valley quite often at this time of year. Built by
their father, it was simple in its design and cheap to build, but it still
satisfied their needs, the small stone fireplace with a small fire in
the grate at one end allowing them to stay warm enough even in
the coldest of winters, and to cook the grains and the occasional
meat they had from their smallholding farm.
In the centre of the room stood a heavy wooden table, another of
the craft work of the father, and six chairs around it, all of their
positions marked out by the indentations of the mud floor, and then
over near the fire were the stools with cushions, made by the
mother, used for the night time conversations and explaining their
days to each other, as the candles and oil lamps at this end of the
room could be lifted to the mantle or hung on the hooks alongside,
to give cheery light to a normally dark room.
It was a very happy household, the father, Walgard, was good
with his hands and, when not tending to his own chores or livestock
at his own property, he would do work for other, less able people
down in the village below who needed a fence repaired, of a small
woodshed built. He would even chop the wood for the more infirm
among the elders. They always paid him, though not always in
money, but these were things he could use, like the occasional
chicken, which meant his own could keep laying a little longer, or if
a beast had been slaughtered, he was given the fats so he could
render it down to make the oil to put in the lamps, and to waterproof
his clothes, and the house roof. A placid man by nature, though
sometimes wore his heart on his sleeve, and occasionally this would
be exploited by some folk to get their own way. He often did a days
work for three potatoes, or similar.
The mother, Sisilend, had been a striking beauty when Walgard
had first met her, blond hair, and blue eyes, a beauty that was
starting to show in their daughters now. Even after having four
children, she still managed to look younger than her years. Her skin,
with almost constant daily exposure to strong sunshine had retained
its fresh look, her blond, sun streaked hair created naturally by
working outdoors on her chores, feeding the chickens and the swine,
and collecting the eggs for market.
It had become easier lately, as Katrillion had been able to help
with the looking after of the siblings while she could get on with the
work. Even Marally would sometimes like to help, but it was difficult
sometimes with the big chores, but they could still be of help by
drawing water from the well, and grinding the grains into flour, a
boring but really necessary job.

There was a shadow hanging over the house of late. Her father,
Walgard had been leaving the house at first light, and remaining out
until after dark, and her mother was travelling to and from the
village, round the houses, asking questions. Last night, Katrillion
woke and heard her mother crying softly in her bed, a simple quiet
little cry, almost like a whimper. Her father had said something to
her, quietly, and it fell silent again.
Katrillion was old enough to understand what was going on, but
the boys had to be shielded.
Marally, her younger sister had gone missing. It had been two
days now, and no one had seen or heard of her in that time. No one
from Alephin or the surrounding areas had seen her taken. Perverts!
Sisilend would lie there, thinking about the acts her little girl
would be forced to perform, and no way of voicing her protests. She
could almost feel the pain of what her little girl would be going
through. She could not understand why anyone could or would want
to hurt a child, especially one so loving as Marally. She is a lovely,
pleasant, pretty little girl, always smiling, always happy. She could
not laugh out loud or cry out either because she had never heard
these things. She had been born deaf.
That night, as she lay in her bed, Katrillion heard Walgard telling
Sisilend to expect the worst. Whoever had taken her were long
gone, and little chance of finding her alive and unsullied.

Chapter Three
For the first few weeks, life was difficult around the farm. Walgard
had been forced to give up looking for his daughter, and had
returned to his work, more from financial necessity than choice. He
still had the remainder of his family to feed, so he had to work,
doing what he did, providing for the remaining members of his
household. It hurt him deeply when he gazed at the empty chair
next to the table, between Katrillion and Condran as they ate their
evening meal, but he had to be a man, and for the sake of his
family, show strength.
Sisilend unfortunately did not possess the internal strength of her
husband, though, like him, for the sake of the remaining children,
she put on the bravest face she could, though not with much degree
of success and so onions became almost a daily food in the
household. She knew, in her heart of hearts that she would never
see her daughter again, and remembered the words of her own
mother, who still lives in their old family home over in Lassabek, the
house from where she was married all those years ago, some two
villages and a days travel away from here in Alephin, that the boys
will always be safe. Nothing can or will harm them as they grow up.
She must protect the girls however from a possible darkness that
could befall them. Sisilend had taken this to mean the possibility of

rape or sexual slavery, something of that nature, as both Katrillion

and Marally shared the striking good looks of their mother, and their
grandmother. She did not know the answer to her question of why
me?
Katrillion was a godsend to her though, this young lady being able
to turn her talents to almost all of the household chores, including
the cooking and the cleaning, and was very good at entertaining the
little brothers with chores that were made to look like games, and
she would do this right up until they were old enough for their father
to teach them the real hunting and trapping skills they would need
for their own future survival, and that of their eventual families.
Sisilend, though thankful of the help, also became very protective
of Katrillion, and kept strict restrictions on some of the things she
was allowed to do alone, so this meant that every market day in
Alephin, and there were two a week, with a third every fourth week
taking in the added livestock market being held all at the same
time, she would have to take Katrillion and both of the boys with her
so she could watch them all closely, and not leave them at home
alone.
They would load their cart with the harvested excesses of
vegetables ready for eating from their huge market garden, fruit
also picked and loaded when they were in season, and any excess
eggs laid by the chickens, together with sacks of both the corn grain
and ground wholemeal flour as some villagers liked to grind their
own, but others didnt, so they supplied both.
It also gave them a chance to shop for material for clothing, and
shoes, with perhaps the odd treat or two for the boys depending on
how their goods sold. Their life was not easy, but they could provide
for themselves, and with some of the money given to Walgard for
his labours, they could pick up meat from animals they did not keep,
like goat, or lamb.
More importantly though, these markets were the social
interaction centres of the people in the local area, a few of which
had heard things from other outside areas, and so on, getting to
know what was going on in the world they occupied. Some of the
women traders could gossip for hours. By the end of market day, the
whole region knew who had been born of late, and to whom, who
had proposed to whom and also those who married, and those who
had passed away. If there was any information to be had, then the
market on market day was the place to be.
While catching up with the latest news, Sisilend heard a snippet
of information about a small girl vanishing without trace from one of
the neighbouring villages, a girl not much older than Marally had
been, the parents searching for weeks, but finding nothing.
This prompted her to start asking more questions about this
strange occurrence. It appears that this was not the first, or indeed
the only one to have happened recently, though in the early
disappearances, it was assumed that either wolves or bears played
a part in their vanishing. However, the children who had vanished,

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

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

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

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

always stood, and then set about sorting and feeding the horse first
before walking up to the house. Her father had always said, take
care of the animals first before you come into the house to eat. Her
parents could be watching her to make sure she did this right. This
could be a test.
She walked into the house, and looked around. It was empty.
There were only embers for a fire in the hearth, no pots boiling over
the fire, just a quiet empty space.
Katrillion thought for a moment. Perhaps Conran had
deteriorated, and, as she had their only cart at the market, they had
used another method to get him to the healer. All she had to do was
light up the fire, and prepare a stew for them coming back, set up
the places at the table, and wait. She fell asleep waiting.
She woke, still sitting in the chair by the now almost again dead
fire. It was still dark outside, so she threw another couple of logs
onto the dying fire, knowing her father would not object, and settled
down to wait a little longer.
The wait became four days; Katrillion now thought that
something must be wrong, really wrong. Where was her family, all of
them? Why did they not leave a message if something had gone
wrong? She trusted her family with everything, so where were the
answers?
By the fifth day, Katrillion knew she must seek help from her
eldest living relative, her maternal grandmother to survive.
It was with a heavy heart that she had to abandon the family
farm here overlooking the village of Alephin, where she had so many
happy memories, a place where they had not only survived, but also
had really lived. This time, the cart was not laden with market
goods, but with whatever personal belongings she had, and
anything that could be of use to her grandmother at her house.
With the hood of her cloak drawn up over her head to keep out
the biting winds, she started the days drive to her new home in the
village of Lassabek many miles away. She was totally bewildered by
what was happening to her, but hoped her life would get some kind
of order soon.

Chapter Five

Inside the walls of the huge castle up on the hill, overlooking the
town of Picalda, sitting in the Large Hall was Lord Gryanth, the self
proclaimed Lord of all he surveyed, or conquered, whichever took
his fancy.
He sat alone, in the dark, lit only by the huge fire roaring away in
the fireplace over to his left. His feet were dangling over one of the
arms of the throne like chair he was sitting on as he mused about
his next move. The callous expression on his face betrayed the fact
that he was not a generous person, and he had gained a reputation
in his earlier land conquests of being really cruel to anything and
everything he commanded, and he commanded a huge area having
usurped the resident lords or barons, taking everything eastward as
far as the land of Deaton.
He was a conqueror in name only, as he was a coward by nature,
ordering his army to do all of his dangerous work for him, spending
his time working on another little scheme to make him even more
powerful and feared than he already was.
He was self-centred in everything he ever did or ordered to be
done, and when he heard the rumour of the existence of a power
that could make him almost god-like over the masses, he decided
he wanted it. He was going to have it, no matter what.
A lot of people had already died, and more will die tonight until he
found the answer he was looking for. Mere underlings, serfs and
fodder were not going to stop him becoming the all-powerful
overlord he craved to be.
The huge door at the other end of the hall opened, and many
servants carrying huge candles in tall candlesticks walked the length
of the hall, placing the candles at two-foot intervals in two rows from
the throne to the door. Gryanth, turned himself into the correct
seated position, after all, he had to show breeding and leadership to
these masses.
From the back of the hall, a commotion sounded, chains clanked
and rough voices barked out orders. Soldiers now lined the way
standing alongside the candlesticks, all the way to the front. A
hooded figure walked down this aisle of people, and, on reaching the
dais on which Gryanth sat, dropped to one knee.
My Lord, I have done as you asked. I have sent the little ones to
labour in your gold mines of Roxa, and brought the others to you
personally.
The figure stood up, and removed his hood, stepping to one side
so as to allow Gryanth to see the prisoners being brought in. It was
the torturer from the cellars.
The chains clanked, as two soldiers almost dragged one of the
prisoners down to where Gryanth was sitting, and threw the person
to their knees. It was Sisilend.
She had been beaten already, her hair showing signs of matted
blood, her face swollen from constant blows received from the
torturer as he went about his work of softening up the prisoner for
interrogation. She remained in the kneeling position

The guards then brought in the second prisoner, Walgard, who

had also been thoroughly beaten too, his eyes swollen and bruised,
his lips split where his teeth had gone through them. Blood was
caked to both of his arms, clearly visible near to where the log of
wood had been forced through his chains to immobilise his arms. He
was dragged to the front, but was left standing. Gryanth wanted him
to see everything that was going on.
Gryanth stood up, and approached Sisilend, looking down on her
with disdain.
I want you to tell me the secret, he started to speak directly at
her, I want to know the secret, and you will tell me what I want to
know
She remained silent.
Did you not hear me woman, I want to know the secret, and I
know you possess it! at which point he pushed his hand under her
chin and forced her head back.
She still remained silent, looking straight into his angry but
frightened face.
You are of the blue eyes, the keepers of the power I seek, and I
want this power shown to me, and you will show me
At this Gryanth raised his studded gloved hand and slapped
Sisilend using his backhand across the face. Walgard tightened the
grip on his chains.
He leaned over her again, You will demonstrate this power to me
now, or I will keep on hurting you till you do, and he raised his foot,
and swung a kick at her face, knocking her onto her side on the
floor. The guards lifted her back onto her knees.
All of you people with the blue eyes have the power, now, give it
to me!
Sisilend still remained silent. She had only heard rumours, well
stories really, of this power herself, but had no idea what it was or
how to command it.
Gryanth picked up a club from the seat behind him, and raised it
to strike her with it, when Walgard became furious, and reacted to
try to save her.
He wanted to intervene and stop the beating his wife was about
to get at the hands of this sadistic bastard. So intent was he on
moving forward and trying to stop the blows that were about to rain
down on his wife from this despot that he failed to see the blade of
the sword wielded by one of the guards behind him, that took his
head cleanly from his body.
Sisilend was looking down at the floor as the head of her husband
rolled passed her, coming to a stop against the dais; the now lifeless
eyes of what had been her husbands staring straight at her. She
screamed.
Gryanth hit her over and over again, asking the question over and
over again, till finally fracturing her skull. She remained defiant,
right up until death released her from her tormentors.

Chapter Six
The house at Lassabek was larger than the house Katrillion had
left in Alephin, having once been the family home of Sisilend and
the other siblings her mother had grown up with, so the additional
possessions brought on the cart when she moved in were easily
absorbed into the rooms with the other furniture. She even had a
space of her own, something of a luxury from the old house.
However, she still missed the house, and the people who had
lived in it, her father and mother, Marally, Condran and little
Beaden. The evening meals when they were all together, sharing
not only the food, but also the love they had for each other. They
had been a close family, now torn apart for some unknown reason,
and the hope of seeing them again scattered to the four winds. It
would take Katrillion a long time to understand.
Her grandmother Ulsen, tried very hard at first to console her in
her grief, and in an attempt to occupy her mind, she got Katrillion to
help out as much as she could around the house. They had livestock
and crops the same as their old house had had, and even more now
since Katrillion brought her stock with her here too, so they would
take a lot more looking after. This tactic worked for a while, but only
a while.
Unfortunately, Katrillion was getting restless, and moody.
Something was on her mind, and it was tearing her up inside. Ulsen
could see that the short term measures she had put into place to try
to keep her calm were not working any more, and it would soon be
time to explain a few things to her, as she had done to her mother,
Sisilend before her.
Lassabek, like Alephin, had two markets a week, and Ulsen would
take their produce, with Katrillions help now, to market, as Sisilend
had done in Alephin, and trade goods and gossip. This village was
two valleys further north of the Alephin valley, and it was good for
Katrillion to hear messages from some of her old friends and their
families back there though, in time these also dried up.
Within a year or so of arriving, Katrillion had, at last, been able to
settle down into where she was now living. Whatever was haunting
her was now firmly at the back of her mind. Her grandmother was
good to her, and she was of great help to her grandmother. The
seasons came and went, and life seemed to settle down at last.
That was, until one day in the early spring, at one of the weekly
markets in Lassabek, Ulsen heard something she did not really want
to hear. This information would now force her hand, and she could
leave it no longer. It was becoming too dangerous to leave things as
they are.
She sat by the fire that night, contemplating and trying to pick
the words she wanted to use so as not to frighten Katrillion, but to

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

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

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

Over the course of the day between sleeping, from their higher
vantage point, they saw only a few people passing by going north
towards the Alephin valley, merchants mostly, with their empty
carts, heading to see what they could fleece out of the simple
peoples in the markets. It appeared as though they had come over
from the west side of the marshes on the only known track way
through them, a route they had used for many a year, successfully,
but had no doubt revealed it to these dark people or their
representatives. This would account for the spate of kidnappings
with ease on this eastern side of the marshes. Both Ulsen and
Katrillion knew that they would not be safe until they were well
south of this east/west junction across the Mid Marshes. Once into
the marshes in the south, where there were no paths or track ways
they could travel by day, and rest by night.
Later that day, they saddled the horses again, and rode on,
keeping themselves inside of the tree line, following a course
parallel to the track southwards until night fell. There were many
wild animals about in the woods at night, and Katrillion kept her
hand on the handle of her sword for most of the journey. Once dark,
they broke cover and travelled, silently along the track, ever
southward.
Ulsen suddenly stopped and raised her hand, listening intently.
Katrillion stopped too, and listened.
In front of them, to the south, they could hear the sound of many
horses, almost at a gallop, coming towards them. They rode into the
tree line to hide, turned, and watched.
About twenty riders formed this pack, riding at speed towards the
foot of the three valleys. There was urgency in their pace, their
horses sweat glistening in the pale moonlight, foam coming from
their mouths where the bit exited the mouths. These riders had
come a long way, and were not going to ease the pace till they got
to where they were going. Ulsen said they were riding as if they
were being chased by the devil. Or ordered by him.
They waited till the sound of the hooves had gone, and
everything went quiet before venturing out from their cover to
resume their journey. Keeping the horses at walking pace might
make the journey a lot longer to do, but its a lot safer.
At dawn, they did exactly the same as the day before, though this
time, they would only rest till midday or so. They had passed the
east/west track over two hours before they stopped to rest, under
cover of darkness, and as all that lay ahead of them in the south
were hostile marshes; it was unlikely anyone would venture this far
south.
Katrillion set a snare, and caught a rabbit. This was skinned, and
roasted on a spit over a small fire after they had slept, making sure
that the smoke and the smell were blown southeast, away from the
last section of the track before the marshes. The fresh meat was a
welcome change to the dried meats and cheeses eaten on the
journey so far.

While they ate, Katrillion asked a question.

Dear grandmother, where exactly are we going, and when will
we arrive?
We are going to a town known as Haneera, well inside the
boundaries of the southern marshes, and there we will hide and
rest.
But, grandmother, I have never heard of this town, are you sure
it is really there?
Ulsen looked at Katrillion with a glint in her eyes, and replied,
Yes my dear, no one has heard of it because its existence is a
well kept secret, but it is there. I know it is, for I was there myself
around the time Marally went missing.
The fire put out and disguised, the horses loaded and ready, the
two travellers set off along a narrowing track, ending up in single file
by the time they reached the marshes themselves. From this point
they would have to walk the horses, as their weight would not only
make the horse sink in deeper, and they would leave deeper
footprints that would last for longer in the bog, prints that a good
tracker could follow.
Ulsen then did something strange. She started to lead her horse
to the east.

Chapter Eight
The torturer turned to look at his latest client. He always referred
to them as clients, and gazed at her, longingly, but professionally.
She was very beautiful, or had been prior to his handiwork, standing
about five feet eight inches tall, slim build for a sixteen year old,
blond hair, and naked as the day she was born, except for the wispy
remnants of pubic hair he had left after ripping out chunks of it
earlier in the day.
She was tightly strapped to the rack, though it was not stretching
her yet. He had other plans before that, other procedures to follow
first. Procedures tried and tested to give the maximum pain
possible. Lord Gryanth had instructed him to use any means
possible to extract the information his master wanted, and that was
exactly what he was going to do.
He wound the small screw thread that brought the small jaws of
the clamp together slowly, placing it onto the lower part of her
slightly protruding clitoris, and began tightening it turn-by-turn,
asking question-by-question. She screamed and screamed, a sound

he had come to enjoy in his line of work. He knew how well he was
doing by the screams his clients made.
She had screamed loudly when he had used small pressure
clamps on her nipples until they were completely flat, and she had
screamed when he had forced the sides of her vagina open with a
device similar to a huge shoe stretcher till the skin split at top and
bottom and bled. It never failed to amuse him how far that could
stretch to allow a babys head to pass through. This piece of
equipment, when extended was considerably bigger than a baby.
This kind or irreparable damage did not worry him, that this vulva
would never feel the love of a man, or anything else for that matter.
He was out to get results, and that was what he was going to get.
He wound his little screw a little tighter, and listened to another
scream, choked only from the damage done to the vocal chords by
the screaming, and demanded.
Tell me! What is the secret of the Southern People? How does it
work?
How do I get to the south lands? Who else is one of you?
These questions were repeated and repeated, as the torture had
continued about his work, and always the client replied that they did
not know. The torturer believed some of them, as he knew from
experience at what point the human body could take no more, but
his Lord and master had instructed him to get the answers to these
questions, or kill them in the process, something he had done to a
few young girls already, and according to the cells of the castle, a
good few more still to go.
It seemed a shame that such beauty should go to waste, as the
guards could have had their wicked way with them, raping them
anally as well as vaginally into submission, more or less using them
as sex objects, but Gryanth had forbidden it. They were to be
tortured, one by one, to death if need be, and so far every one of
them had died from these procedures, till he got the information he
wanted from them. No distractions, as the guards may take pity on
them, or keep them to use again.
The torturer returned to the task at hand, turning the screw a
little more. The girl screamed, and the small head of the clitoris
protruding from between the two flat jaws of the clamp swelled
another millimetre. He would carry on turning the screw till it burst,
bleeding profusely, and every nerve ending in that sensitive area
screaming in pain.
After working on the sensitive sex organs, if they still hadnt given
him the information, he would then proceed to dislocate their joints,
all of them, starting with the elbows, bending them backwards, and
then the shoulders with the help of his trusty rack. The wrists would
be shattered, metacarpal-by-metacarpal, and the fingers dislocated
and broken, one by one, the nails pulled out of their nail beds in a
twisting motion so as to rip the cuticles too.
The legs would receive the same level of work, hips, knees,
metatarsals and then toes together with their nails.

If they were really stubborn, and up to now they all had been, he
would remove the teeth, one by one.
Most of his clients had expired from shock or loss of blood before
he got to the teeth, but he always said that his job was to torture
people, and he insisted that he did it with dignity, and respect for
the client.
His current client bled out from the torn uterus, before he got to
the breaking of the bones.
The body was untied and taken away; the guards couldnt abuse
her even in death, as there was little of her female anatomy left.
In true professional style, the torturer cleaned all of his tools
thoroughly ready for his next client, boiling the metal ones to get
them clean in a huge black pot.
He still had no answers for his master, and he hoped his masters
patience with him would last a while longer. He would keep working.

Chapter Nine
Ulsen and Katrillion were making good time on their travels, and
were now inside the rings of mists that rose from the dark, deep
waters of the marshes, giving the whole place an eerie, ghostly
appearance. They had travelled eastwards for over an hour before
turning south, the soft earth that almost squelched underfoot as you
started to enter the Southern Marshes, pausing and listening every
few minutes, checking that they were not been followed. All they
could hear was the sounds of water running, trickling around the
clumps of protruding land on which they were standing. Ulsen had
explained that the track road they had used coming down on
horseback from Alephin, if followed into the marshes would lead to a
dead end, and going straight ahead from where the marshes began
would have taken the traveller into some of the softest, and most
dangerous parts of the marsh. Many people wishing to cross the
marshes thought that that was the way in, but they found out, to
their peril, it is not. The bones are still there to prove it.
The going underfoot was starting to get soft for the horses,
though not impossible for them to walk, the sphagnum moss
allowing some solid feel underfoot, even if it was very slippery.
After a couple of hours, they paused to rest awhile beside a
stunted and dead looking small tree. They tied up the horses, giving
them hay and water, and sat, taking in a little food and water
themselves. Ulsen took this opportunity to explain a little more of
what was going on,
When we left our house, to make our journey to here, at the
same time, friends of ours were setting out from the local villages,
scattering themselves across the whole of Deaton, searching out
any more blue eyed, blond haired females. They had to find them

before the dark people did. Already, some of the soldiers of the dark
people had been seen around the villages, caught, and killed
Once these children are found, they are to blacken their blond
hair with charcoal or soot, as I did with you, so as not to attract
attention of soldiers or spies, and then take them, one by one if
necessary to a secret location, where people from Haneera would
meet up with them, take the child or children, and lead them to the
safety found here in the Southern Marshes.
At all times, they must watch for spies or infiltrators till we can
leave Haneera and get back up to the valleys to collect them.
Katrillion looked at her grandmother,
By we, do you mean I will go also?
No, my dear, I will go with the others of the elders. You will
remain, safe in the marshes till I return.
Will I ever leave the marshes? asked Katrillion, Will I ever be
free again?
Of course you will my child! Ulsen said with a smile, Once you
have been fully trained to look after yourself, and know how to
navigate the marshes, you merely blacken your hair, and keep your
eyes down from view, as if you were shy.
Enough chat for now. If we are to make the safety of the village
before nightfall, we must get a move on.
They stood; both of them wet from the dampness of the ground,
and untied the horses from this one small tree. Katrillion gathered
up the water dishes, and uneaten hay used for the horses, and
packed them into the bags on the sides of their mounts. Ulsen still
did not move at first, but listened intently for any sound, however
small before they moved off. Their conversation could have easily
attracted eavesdroppers, who would then try to follow them in.
The mists rising from the ground seemed to get thicker the
further they travelled, making it almost impossible to see where
they were going, but Ulsen knew the way. A left turn here, a right
turn here, a double back on yourself here, and the occasional little
step over a tiny stream. The horses seemed calm, but as Ulsen said,
they have travelled this route many times already. The route was
anything but a straight line. It would go for no more than a hundred
yards before it would go off at a tangent to another raised grass
covered protrusion, then onto another, and another. Katrillion could
see now why this place had remained a secret for so long. Even if
someone got through, the chances were they would never be able
to find their way out again.
The heat that was causing the mists to form over the marshes
also created an atmosphere of very high humidity, which made the
body sweat profusely, and dehydration killed more unprepared
travellers than them sinking into the bogs. The progress was getting
harder and harder to make, the ground seemed to be getting really
soft, with their feet sinking into above their ankles, and even the
horses were starting to object too, snorting at each other as if in a
joint complaint.

Suddenly, Ulsen stopped, and held up her hand. Katrillion also

stopped and stood silently, listening for the sound her grandmother
must have heard. It seemed silent, except for natural noises around
them.
Do you hear that slight hissing? asked Ulsen to Katrillion in a
hushed whisper.
Yes, I can now, replied Katrillion, But only since you have
mentioned it.
That is the sound of the spring, where the pure clean waters of
the marsh break the surface for a while before going back below the
peat again. This sound tells me we are very close to our
destination.
Katrillion looked ahead, but could see nothing clearly because of
the mists, only a few of those stunted trees that grew throughout
parts of these marshes. As they walked a little more, there was
something about these trees that did not seem right, but Ulsen
carried on walking. She must have been able to see these strange
looking trees, but she ignored them.
Ulsen knew, as Katrillion was about to find out that they were not
trees. In the next hundred yards, the two of them stood face to face
with two huge blond haired, blue-eyed men, heavily armed.
Katrillion put her hand to her sword, but Ulsen placed her hand on
her arm and held it there. She turned and said something Katrillion
could not understand to these men, and they smiled. They had
arrived.

Chapter Ten
Lord Gryanth sat at the head of the table, looking down at his
minions, his army captains, his dragoons commanders, and all of
his knights still loyal to him. This little battle of his to collect
information was not going his way, and definitely not going
according to plan. His plan of course.
He gazed at them all seated around the huge table, all of them
looking at him with puppy dog eyes, trying to please their master,
though he knew this lot would sell their own mother to survive
another day in his service.
Sitting at the head of the table with him was his favourite
employee, the torturer, who, Gryanth believed had really being
doing his best. It seems that despite his best efforts, these blond
haired, blue-eyed girls had a greater resistance to pain than a
normal girl, perhaps that was a part of the power they were
supposed to hold, the power he so wanted for himself. He was going
to find out no matter what.
He had seen the work of the torturer first hand, and admired his
attention to detail when it came to inflicting pain, a talent Gryanth
was not finished using. The pile of bodies that had lain, rotting,

outside of the dungeons was starting to stink, so the lord had

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

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

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

No, not tonight. Tonight is for you and your grandmother. We will
meet again tomorrow though, and at this he walked off into the
darkness.
What a strange boy? she thought as she entered the Great Hall
of the Council Chamber. Tonight was going to be something
different, something new. She could feel it.

Chapter Twelve
The Council were sitting in a semicircle facing towards the door
she had just entered through. Her grandmother was at the door to
meet her,
Come my child, into the centre where these fine people can see
you, and led her to the large red circle painted on the floor of the
chamber.
The whole building was circular, timber framed, and very ornately
carved. Metal shields and plaques adorned the walls together with
many flags and banners of many bright colours. Katrillion had never
seen craftsmanship as good as this. Every chair occupied by one of
these councillors had been hand carved, each with a different
circular design in the headrest. The floor was a highly polished
series of interlocking boards, made from what looked like oak, the
light from the many torches reflecting off the wood and over the
faces of the people sitting around the room.
Do not be afraid, my child, said her grandmother as they
approached and then stood on this red circle, They are our friends.
As Katrillion raised her head, and looked around at the people
seated, she heard a gasp from them. She decided to stand proud, as
her mother and father had taught her to do.
One of the councillors spoke to Ulsen in this strange language,
and Ulsen replied,
Until Katrillion learns the words of the Blue Eye, I must request
we speak in her language as a mark of respect.
The murmur swept around the table, and back to the centre in a
couple of seconds.
You are right, as always our friend Ulsen, so we will use the
tongue of the Deaton Folk for now. So, this is Katrillion?
Ulsen looked at the person speaking, the Chairman, and replied,
Yes, this is the child Katrillion, of Walgard and Sisilend, from the
village of Alephin
The Chairman nodded, and spoke to Katrillion,
Is this the truth that Ulsen speaks? You are of Walgard and
Sisilend, from Alephin?
Katrillion cleared her throat and said, bluntly, Yes, I am from
Alephin, and my parents are Walgard and Sisilend, and I am proud of
it!

The Chairman smiled at this strong outburst, and replied, And so

you should be. Walgard and Sisilend are fine people, and good
friends to us, as I hope you will be too. He continued,
Would you come a little closer to me for a moment, so I may see
your face properly in this poor light?
Katrillion did as she was told, and took a couple of paces forward
then stopped, staring straight ahead almost defiantly.
You share the beauty of your mother, the chairman commented,
And, you have the eyes that your grandmother said you had. Real
bright blue, in fact they are power blue. I can feel the power in you
now from where you stand.
Ulsen and Katrillion left the council chambers to let them talk over
whatever they had to decide, and the two of them walked, together
with a two-man escort provided, to one of the inns, where they
would spend the night, and sort out something more permanent
tomorrow.
The inn served good food, and they were famished from their
travel, and then the meeting. They sat at a table in an alcove, away
from the general room where the Carnival revellers were partying,
and set about eating a feast size meal provided, while their room
was being prepared.
Their conversation started with this strange boy that met
Katrillion, and she was quite surprised that Ulsen knew him and
indeed she knew his whole family. She then told her grandmother
about his ridiculous suggestion that he should show her the
Carnival, and try to befriend her. To her surprise, Ulsen said that
would be a good idea, for Davian was going to be studying the same
course of combat that she was, and it would help as they could
practice together as a pair. There was something else that Ulsen
wanted to tell Katrillion, and now seemed the right time,
Katrillion, you know how I have brought you here for your own
safety, or so I said, she looked at her, and watched her nod,
Well, that is not the only reason I have brought you here,
Now Katrillions interest was aroused, and she started to take
more notice of the words of her grandmother, putting the thoughts
of being shown around by some young man to one side for the
moment.
Here in Haneera, there is a kind of mysterious power, which is
given only to the blond haired and blue eyed people who live in this
area, and only those who have been taught how to summon it, and
to control it.
It is not given by us as a council, or by the people of Haneera,
we do not know who gives it or to whom it will be given, only that it
exists, and it gives itself freely to any who deserve it. This power is
much sort after, and only a very few chosen ones ever get to feel its
presence, let alone use it.
I brought you before the Council for them to meet you and
decide whether you are of the right stock to be trained in searching

for this power, and perhaps finding out what it is, and also what it
does.
Not only are you from the right stock, but you possess the
lightness of the hair, and the blueness of the eyes that could
potentially make you almost a priestess of the power they are so
pure in colour. I could not tell you this until the Council had seen you
and confirmed my thoughts.
However my child, we know that there is a power, and it has
been around for centuries, and we know that while you remain here,
it will in some way or another, attach itself to you, hence the
training you will undergo, but, we do not know what this power can
do or what it is for, so we must be careful.
Some of the girls over many years that have gone before, after
training and learning to channel some of the power, have been able
to use only a tiny fraction of it. They have moved objects using only
their minds, but only very light objects, and only short distances.
The blue swirls that are expected to appear from thin air have not
yet appeared, as it must do according to the legend
In reality, we have no idea what this power is, or what it can do.
It is over a thousand years since the Power Of The Marshes was
unleashed, back when darkness had fallen upon the land, but the
writings of it, which have been studied in great detail, remain
unclear. We have no idea who unleashed it, or why, just that it was,
and then it was written into legend.
My dear Katrillion, there is once again darkness in our land, and
for the sake of the people of these lands, we must try to find the
trigger and if necessary, be able to unleash this Power once more to
save the people. I know it is a great deal to ask of you my sweet and
loyal grand daughter, but I beg that you learn well the teachings. It
may not be easy, but do not worry, if it doesnt work with you, we
have at least tried.
Katrillion had a lot to think about before she could get to sleep.

Chapter Thirteen
Katrillion was having her breakfast when her grandmother
returned from her meeting at the Council. She joined her at the
table.
I am to leave later today with some of the other elder people,
and return to the valleys. We are bringing the blue eyed girls from
the Eastern Deaton region back with us though we will arrive here
one at a time, using different routes.
I ask you Katrillion, to be polite, and not to cause any trouble
while I am away. I should be no longer than five days, and while Im
away, I suggest you take young Davian up on his offer to show you
the Carnival till I return.

Katrillion looked at her grandmother almost in horror at the

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

The people then started to make their way back to do whatever

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

Chapter Fourteen
They sat together beside a low wall over in a quiet corner of the
Town Square, well away from the prying ears of anyone passing.
As they sat, Davian appeared to be uncomfortable sitting there
with Katrillion.
Are you afraid to sit with me? she asked; thinking perhaps his
cheek could be a cover for a frightened, shy person beneath.
I am not! he replied indignantly, still shuffling about as he sat,
I am thinking of whether I should tell you or not?
Tell me what? she asked, looking at the ground this time so as
not to spook him any further.
About why I got upset when the scouting party left.
Oh, that, she said, Id stopped thinking about that
Then you said that if we are to be together for the next week, I
should tell the truth
She nodded.
Then I must tell you about me, he said, And why Im here,
alone
About five years ago, I was brought here with my parents, both
blond and both blue eyed, though, as you can see, both my hair and

my eyes are brown. They were fleeing a tyrant in a land many,

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

He stopped his story, his voice choking up, and tears welling up in
his eyes, he sniffled, and cleared his throat, and continued,
That is why I was upset when the scouting party left. I
remembered my parents leaving, and never coming back.
They both sat together, in silence, looking at the ground, both
thinking of things in their own worlds.

Chapter Fifteen
Andrean stared at this soldier, this piece of filth that stood
panting for breath in front of her, at the other side of the bar. This
armour-plated devil wasnt getting her into any corners or dark
places; shed heard the stories. She remained behind the serving
bar inside of the inn, where she felt the safest.
The place was full of soldiers, scum the whole lot of them, swilling
down the ale, and eating the food, and not giving so much as a coin
to pay for it. They cussed and swore at anything and everything,
beating up any defenceless beggar or tramp sitting against the walls
of the buildings in the village centre, having spent the day setting
fire to the hay lofts, trashing crops and terrorising the people of
Alephin, ruling by fear.
The Captain of this bunch of faeces, stood up from his table,
drunk as expected, and swayed from side to side as he addressed
his men,
Now my men, we have done well today, so its time for the real
entertainment, and looked slowly about the bar room. He spotted
Andrean standing behind the counter, and said, And for one night
only, we shall have this one, pointing to her.
Before she could move, soldiers blocked her exit from both ends
of the bar, and moved in to trap her in the middle.
She scrambled to try to jump over the counter, but she was not
tall enough to haul herself onto the top of the counter before the
soldiers grabbed her, forcibly carrying her, kicking and screaming,
towards the centre of the room, and laid her on her back on the
table. Ropes that were passed under the table, crossing over to
make it impossible to move, and to keep her arms and legs apart,
bound her hands and feet.
The Captain slowly walked across to the table, and looked down
at his prize for this evening, this time a full-bodied woman, not one
of these skinny little runts that seemed to infest this backwater of a
place. No, this was a definitely a real woman, her chest heaving up
and down, and her eyes blazing. He was about to enjoy the
challenge of her. The fire in her eyes made him even more
determined to have her as he saw fit. He did not know that the fire
was from fear and hatred, not that of desire.
He drew his sword, and slid it slowly under the laced up tie strings
that held the bodice sides together, cutting them with one small

flick of the blade. His troops formed a circle to watch this spectacle.
The locals took this opportunity to sneak out of the bar, they could
do nothing to help, and ran for their lives.
Andrean started to scream; so one of the soldiers put a ball gag in
her mouth, covered it with thin leather straps, tightening it so tight
that it started to split the edges of the top and bottom lip. The
Captain could now kiss her without fear of been bitten or spat at,
should he so desire.
Her bodice fell away, leaving a slip of an undergarment, which
went to her waist. In a dramatic gesture, the Captain cut a small slot
in the first couple of inches of it from the bottom with the sword,
and then grabbed the edges, one in each hand, and to a rousing
cheer from his men, tore the material slowly in half, revealing her
ample, full bosoms. The men now roared with approval. He slowly
bent over her and kissed each nipple very gently, and even though
she was terrified, they started to become erect, betraying her body.
He looked at them for a short while, with an almost longing look and
then, placing his mouth over the erect nipple, he bit down hard.
She screamed, but it could not be heard over the laughter of the
troops. Blood oozed from the teeth marks around the areole. He did
the same to the other, causing her to scream even more, before he
moved his attention downwards, ripping off the cummerbund belt,
throwing it over his shoulder, out of his way, making it look like he
was performing some play or another. He then sliced the plaid skirt
into half, with his sword. By cutting the clothes from her like this,
she would not need to be lifted from the table to remove any of her
garments.
He did the same with the gathering of underskirts, slicing them,
and peeling them back like a banana, ripping the material to pieces.
She was still struggling as hard as she could against the bonds, but
the soldiers had done this so many times before, they had the
application of the restraints down to perfection. The harder she
pulled, the tighter they became.
The leg length socks were cut from her, and her shoes pulled off
and thrown to one side. Only one last piece of undergarment
remained, covering her womanhood from prying eyes, though wisps
of black pubic hair protruded from the sides of the open leg holes of
these shorts. The atmosphere in the room was rapidly becoming
electric with excitement. The Captain waited till he had the full
attention of his men before he played out the last act of his
performance before claiming his prize.
He nicked the waistband of the garment with his sword, bent
over, and grabbed the material in his teeth, pulling it up and away
sharply. His nose passed over the pubic hair, catching a whiff of
womans urine and the attractive smell of new mown hay. Yes, she
was ready.
Still playing to the gallery, he stepped back from the table, and
started to disrobe, his soldiers assisting him, as if they were his
dressers, till he himself stood there, naked and proud. He

outstretched his hands and arms, with his palms upward and bowed
slightly, as if waiting for applause. The place erupted.
He walked to the end of the table and slowly climbed onto the
edge, in a kneeling position, careful not to get any wood spelks in
his knees, and taking his member in his right hand; it was already
starting to become erect, supported himself over her lower body
with his left hand, he rubbed the sensitive end of it up and down her
vaginal slot to stimulate lubrication. Fight as she may, her body
would once again betray her, and within moments her female
ejaculate was showing on the outer edges of the vulva. He entered
her brutally, forcing his now solidly erect penis into her not fully
dilated vagina, tearing the walls of it internally, and inducing
bleeding as well as pain. She screamed. No one heard over the
cheers.
For the next hour and a half, every soldier in the inn had her, the
younger ones more than once, in some way or another, even
entering anally. Every orifice in her body, her mouth, her navel, even
her ears, was either covered with or full of sperm, as these brutal
soldiers relentlessly tore into her body or masturbated onto her for
fun. About one hundred troops were in that inn that night, and all of
them used her in some way or another.
By the time many gallons of alcohol had been consumed, free of
course, the drunk and now incapable of performing sex soldiers left
the room, arm in arm, singing and laughing, Andrean had passed
out some time ago, still strapped to the table.
Within a couple of minutes of the last soldier leaving, two women
appeared at the door, checked the room was empty, and crossed to
the table. They released the ropes that bound her, then covered her
over with a couple of sheets, and then when her decency was
restored, four men entered the room with a flat board stretcher,
lifted her onto it and carried her outside, as far away from this place
as they could go, to a small house high up on the hillside.
Andrean never recovered from that night. She has never uttered a
word to anyone since, her tortured mind reacting by blocking out
the nightmare she had suffered, which came at a price. She also had
to shut out everything else in her life, to free her from the world that
had harmed her. She sat, rocking back and forth on a chair near the
fire in that little farmhouse, looking at the flickering of the flames all
day and night. Every day and every night.
She also screamed at the sight of a man, any man.

Chapter Sixteen
Ulsen and her friends had passed through the Southern Marshes,
and were now making their way northwards using the cover of the
forest that ran parallel with the main track on their way to the
valleys.

They passed the East/West track junction, which came over the
south edge of the Dry Zone, an almost pure desert that stretched
from here, right to the mountains in the north, and they had
encountered no one. The large patrol she had seen, maybe three
hundred troops or so galloping north a week ago as she was coming
south with Katrillion, could have been the last to come this way, and
no doubt more would follow, so they had to take extreme care.
They reached the first of the valley entrances leading up to the
hills in the distance, perhaps twenty miles away, this particular
valley splitting again in a few miles, turning into the right valley for
Alephin, and the left for the village of Kotro. It was here that most of
the scouting party peeled off to venture up into these two valleys,
and check out the villages and surrounding countryside. Ulsen and
the remaining scouts carried straight on northward, into the
Lassabek valley, slowly approaching from the south. A meeting
place had been arranged, away from the village, by the locals, for
them to rest and gather all of the information they could from their
people, and to collect any blond haired and blue eyed girls that had
been hidden by the locals from the invaders, so they could take
them away to safety in Haneera. It had been carefully arranged that
if one had been caught, then only one would be affected.
As they got close to the designated meeting place, they slowed
their progress and began to split up into individuals, one of the men
going on ahead disguised as a leper, followed by a woman as an old
crone, complete with basket of mushrooms at a safe distance
behind. The rest waited, the next two would go in an hour.
Within the hour, the man disguised as a leper returned, with three
girls, blond and blue eyed, and some very bad news.
It appears that we are too late here, as these soldiers, acting on
the orders of a Lord Gryanth, some tyrant who has come from over
the mountains, they have raked the countryside for the blond and
blue eyed girls, collected many of them, kidnapped really and then
took them all to Picalda.
It appears that this Gryanth has heard of this legendary power
that belongs to these blue eyed people, and says he wants to find it,
and use it to protect people, or so he says. He has specially trained
people brutally torturing these blond haired prisoners for the
information. These three are all that remains of the cousins in the
whole Lassabek district, all the rest have gone. Captured, taken.
Ulsen was quite saddened by this news.
If only they could have organised quicker, they might have been
able to save more. She looked at these three young girls, all of
which told a similar story. The soldiers were raiding their homes,
their parents hiding them somewhere where they wont be found as
they were so small, the soldiers then began murdering and raping
their parents, any blond older sisters taken, though they being so
small were hidden in the barns, stys, wherever they could fit
without being seen, and told to wait for someone they knew to
come.

Ulsen now started to wonder if the other villages and homesteads

in the other valleys would tell the same story, but they had no time
to check, they had to get these three young frightened girls to
Haneera before the soldiers could take them.
She volunteered, along with two men, to take these three girls
back immediately, and the rest of the scouts elected to remain,
spreading themselves out and gathering as much information as
they could about what was happening before returning to Haneera.
They parted company halfway down the valley, the scouts who were
remaining making their way up towards Lassabek, and Ulsen with
her team plus their charges heading down the valley to the track,
then into the safety of the forest, finally turning south. These girls
were very apprehensive, as they had never been away from home
before, so Ulsen told them stories of the magical and mystical place
they were going to, of safety, and of belonging.
They made very good time as they made their way south, and
saw no one as they travelled parallel to the main north/south track
way on their way to the Southern Marshes, arriving at where the
east/west track junctioned, just south of the Dry Zone.
As this was possibly the most dangerous and exposed point in the
journey for detection, as they could be seen for miles if they were on
the track, from any direction, Ulsen paused and asked for silence.
At first, they could hear nothing, only the light wind in the trees,
rustling the leaves in a hiss, and then, they heard a low pitched,
moaning sound being carried towards them on the breeze. It
seemed to be coming from the roadside at the end of the east/west
track more or less opposite their current hidden position. One of the
scout men crouched and moved forward out of the trees and to the
edge of the northern track, watching and listening for any sign of
danger. He darted across the road, keeping his body as low to the
ground as he could, and then disappeared into the ditch alongside
the track at the other side.
A few moments later, his head appeared over the top, he looked
around to make sure the way was still clear of danger, then he
crouched his way back across the track and into the forest, carrying
something over his shoulder, something big and bulky.
He laid it down on the ground in front of Ulsen.
It was a very badly beaten man, now almost at deaths door with
lack of water. He was no ordinary man though; he was a blond
haired, blue-eyed man.

Chapter Seventeen
They arrived back in Haneera in the dead of night, and the girls
were whisked away to one of the houses to be cleaned up and then
fed before bedding them down for the night.

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

Ulsen smiled. She knew Davian would be the right person to keep
her mind occupied till her return, and it made her feel a lot better,
more relaxed
Are you meeting Davian today? she asked,
He is coming for me shortly, and we are going to follow the
spring from where it rises out of the ground to where it falls back in
again.
That will not take long, said Ulsen with a smile, As the spring
stream is only a couple of hundred yards long, and not all of that is
accessible. She knew this would occupy her charge till she had
spoken with the Council.
That afternoon, the Council convened, and heard the information
from the two men in the returning party, telling about this strange
man they had collected on the way back. They could only confirm
that he had walked the east/west track from Picalda, or crossed the
Dry Zone from further north, travelling from the west. It really did
not matter which, as both are usually fatal on foot. They concluded
that he must have come from Picalda, walking for three to four days,
no water, no food, exposed to the harsh sunshine without shelter,
and perhaps another two days at least to get to where he was
found.
The medicine man entered the chamber and gave his report,
telling of the wounds this stranger had received, and that most of
them were not natural. He had been able to clean up caked blood
from the mans face, then by using a cold compress take down some
of the swelling, and water to rehydrate the burned skin, he was able
to see the face.
He gave his full report, and then left the chamber.
As Ulsen was about to enter the chamber to deliver her report,
one of the chamber orderlies came rushing out of the door, looked
around, and immediately saw Ulsen standing there alone. He
approached her and asked,
Do you know where your grand daughter Katrillion is?
Yes, I do. She is at the spring stream.
Is the boy, Davian with her?
Yes, he is. At which the orderly took off in the direction of the
spring stream without a word of explanation.
Ulsen entered the chamber. It was her turn to report.
Katrillion stood there looking at the spring water rising from the
earth, and was still puzzled as to why the water suddenly appeared
at the point it did, for no obvious reason, then disappeared a short
distance away, for no obvious reason either. The land here was all
the same level, and this would mean the water would have to run
uphill, which it cannot.
Davian was trying to explain how the water in the marshes was
being forced through them by the pressure of the new water coming
down the rivers in the valleys, and at the point where the spring
was, the main bulk of the water under their feet is being forced
downwards. However, because of a small fissure in the rock below, a

small amount of the fresh water on the top of the flow is pushed up
under pressure to the surface. If all of the underground water came
upwards it would make a huge fountain, and would make the land of
Haneera uninhabitable.
He was just about to explain this to Katrillion for the fourth time
when an orderly of the council came running over to them.
Davian, I have been sent by the Council to tell you that you are
needed, as soon as possible, at the infirmary. You must hurry!
The orderly turned, and left, jogging his way back to the
chambers.
Katrillion looked at Davian, and he looked at her, both a bit
confused.
Ive never worked in the Infirmary before, or even been there, so
why do they want me there now?
Katrillion just shrugged her shoulders.
They went together, running all of the way, just in case it was
something important.
At the door of the Infirmary, a healer was waiting. He put his
hands onto Davians shoulders, and smiled,
Good news young man, we seem to have found your father!

Chapter Eighteen
Ulsen stood before the Council, and gave her sketchy information
about the man picked up on the way back. He had already been
identified as the missing father of Davian, and his story would be
taken as soon as he was well enough to give it. Ulsen now knew why
the orderly she spoke to was looking for Davian.
To give the next part of her report, she reminded the Council that
some of the things she had heard were harrowing, and should be
expected to upset.
She started with the meeting with the disguised leper, who had
gone into the town and returned.
The people there are being systematically and purposely beaten
into submission. There have been reports of all of the women,
regardless of age, becoming fair game to the soldiers, and their evil
ways
The crops lie ruined in the fields, the livestock slaughtered and
left for the wildlife, as are the bodies of the dead. Wolves are
opportunists, and a hungry bear will eat anything
There is the smell of death and burning flesh hanging over
everywhere in the valleys. No one and nothing is safe from these
marauding devils
Whoever commands these vermin must have a heart of stone,
black stone, if they have a heart at all.
We learned that the troops performing these hideous acts are
being controlled from some lord, over in the west, in the castle at

Picalda, which he captured a while back after a battle. His name, so

I am told, is Gryanth, and he comes from somewhere over the other
side of the mountains.
This corroborated a story given by the parents of Davian before
they went missing a long time ago, though it now appeared that this
darkness had now spread into the East of Deaton, and up into the
valleys.
I have heard tales of public raping, murder of the elders and the
older men folk who were not in their prime, these being old,
disabled or afflicted, and the movement of men and boys who were
in their prime, all chained together and loaded onto wagons, to be
transported as slave labour in the gold mines to the north of Picalda,
at a place called Roxa.
I cannot give any news at the moment of either the Alephin or
Kotro villages, as our first priority was to get these three remaining
girls out of harms way, and bring them here as soon as possible.
I feel, however, that the returning scouts from these places will
have similar stories to recount, and I feel a great sadness for the
people in those villages, as I fear that things will get worse as this
tyrant subjugates even more people, and rules them by merciless
fear.
Most of the Council sat, silently listening to this disturbing news,
shaking their heads at some of the blatant indiscretions they were
hearing.
Ulsen continued,
What both intrigues me, and worries me at the same time, is the
information that this Gryanth is looking to possess for himself the
Power of the Marshes, our power, and has systematically taken
blond haired blue eyed girls to his lair over in Picalda, and tortured
them all to try to gain this information. Unfortunately, brutal torture
to gain information from these girls will not work. They do not have
the information or the power, and they have never had it.
This torture, or rumours of it, has yet to be substantiated by
corroborating evidence from the other scouts, though we have no
information available or scouts from Picalda or Roxa over the west
that this is so.
There is little more I can tell you at this point, and until we have
all of the information to work with, I feel, painful though it is, we
must wait it out.
She left the chamber.
She was too old to go on a crusade, no matter what the cause,
and the Council knew this. Their best tacticians, warriors, designers,
fighters were all too old to go into combat, and the years of peace
they had lived through had meant that no new recruits had been
trained, as they were not needed.
Gryanth was amassing an army.
Perhaps it was time for Haneera to do the same.

Chapter Nineteen
Davian ran into the small ward in the infirmary, not believing
what he had been told. His father was not only still alive, but he was
here. He had feared the worst when they had gone missing, and to
find out that one of his parents was here, it blew him away.
He walked up to the bedside, and looked at this beaten man lying
there, bandages and poultices applied to various parts of the body,
and felt joy. It was his father. Alive, but only just, but alive
nevertheless.
Katrillion followed closely behind him, standing a short distance
away from the bed.
Katrillion, I would like you to meet my father, Davia. And he
swept his hand in the direction of the bed.
Davian was having a lot of trouble keeping his composure and
hiding behind his cheek was letting him down. He was really
overjoyed at seeing his father again, but really upset at the
condition his father was in. His voice was choked as he babbled, and
he was behaving as though he was elsewhere, acting this all out as
though it wasnt real. He was in shock.
This is my hero father, who has returned to me after all this time.
You can see by how he looks that he must have climbed mountains,
fought wild animals to get here to be with me.
I will make him right, I will his voice tailed off, as his throat
would not work.
Davian could say no more. He had become the victim of two
opposing emotions, and neither of them was winning. His joy and
then disbelief that his father was really here, and then also what his
eyes told him that to get here to see his son had broken him. Davian
was suffering now from tremendous guilt.
Katrillion could see that he was going through some kind of
trauma, but she didnt know what to do.
Davian was injured, mentally, and needed help, but what help
could she give?
She walked up to him, and wrapped her arms around him as her
mother had done to her in bad times. It had always worked for her.
Davian accepted the hug of a friend, and started to cry, real
emotional tears.
They stood in this embrace of friends for over ten minutes, not a
word said between them. They seemed to know, to understand.
As the days wore on, Davia was starting to recover, slowly, and
Davian was told he could visit for a while each day but not for too
long as his father needed a lot of rest to help him heal. Katrillion was
able to spend the time catching up a little more with her grand
mother, and hearing in more detail the inhuman atrocities that were
being inflicted on their people. This saddened her heart. She felt so
sympathetic towards the families, some of whom she knew, but felt
the sorrow of them all.

As they awaited the return of the other scouts coming back from
the outlying districts, and their much needed up to date information,
Katrillion and Davian started their sword fighting training, both of
them proving to be willing learners, though on more than one
occasion Katrillion had bettered Davian, earning him a slap on the
head from his beginners luck comment.
The three new girls who had been brought in recently seemed to
gravitate towards Katrillion, seeing in her perhaps the essence of
their absent parents or older siblings, even though she was only a
few years older than them. She did not mind, and tried to help them
get over their losses, but at the same time keeping them firmly set
in reality. To look at them they could all have been sisters, sharing
the same physical attributes, even though they were not knowingly
related.
The hardest part of the training for Katrillion was to do with this
power thing, and its control. She would be told to think of different
things, or do things, or imagine things, and react to the scenario.
Nothing happened, not so much as a tick. There was no blue haze,
something that is supposed to happen, no feeling of any kind, other
than hunger, as these sessions were long ones, and certainly no
feeling of being anything special.
Davia was able to sit up and talk, mainly to Davian, but he told
him that he must speak with the Council first before he could tell his
son where he had been, and what had happened, but he would
request that his son be present when he did give them his report,
that way he would understand it all.
The Council reluctantly agreed, but Davian then insisted that
Katrillion be present also, as a sort of moral support to him, while his
father told the story. They agreed, as Katrillion was considered to be
of special standing.
The day was set for the report to be given, and Davia was given
time to prepare to tell what had happened, and what he had found
out, and put everything in order, as what he had gone through may
cause him to omit important little pieces from his story. He wrote
copious amounts of notes and lots of jotted single word trigger
reminders so he could confidently say that he was ready.
Over the period of the few months it took for Davias recovery,
some of the scouts sent out at the time with Ulsen had returned
from the valleys, all with dark tales to tell, and most with various
injuries too, but no blond haired blue eyed girls. The soldiers had
systematically taken the whole of the civilisations apart, burning the
crops so the people had to rely on them for food, destroyed
everything the people had, making them beg for their life, By now
they were all losing hope. The darkness had lain waste the valleys
and its people.

Chapter Twenty

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

pyre, in respect of the dead, something that escaped my captors

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

I managed to keep going until my strength finally gave out, and I

could go no further. I lay there for maybe two days expecting death
at any moment, but, luckily for me I was found by your people, and
from there, you already know the rest.
The Chairman looked at the other members, who all nodded in
acceptance, and he turned to Davia and thanked him for his report
and information.
Katrillion stood there listening intently to all of this, and had now
lost a little of her initial anger, but still was saddened by the
injustice of man to man.
Davian, who was standing at the back beside Katrillion, looked at
her with a strange stare and asked,
What is wrong with you? You look a little strange
Katrillion looked at him in her matter of fact way, thinking hes
heading for another slap, and replied, Nothing. Im a little upset
with this, thats all, I was angry, but not now. Why do you ask?
Because you are glowing slightly in the dark, your body had a
feint blue mist around it. You look strange, like a ghost.
Katrillion looked at her hands and arms, and because of the
subdued lighting of where she stood, she too could see this feint
light blue haze, like a feint glow, surrounding her body. She could
see it, but she could not feel anything different about herself.

Chapter Twenty-One
After they had left the Council chamber, both Katrillion, and
Davian decided not to mention this glow that had manifested itself
in the chamber, for fear of attracting too much attention, and the
way she felt, after hearing of the plight of her family, attention is
something she wanted to avoid. In his report, Davia had not
mentioned Walgard or Sisilend, but she knew, deep within her heart
that she would never see them again.
Life in the village went on as it had done for over a thousand
years. The training in swordplay continued during the day, and the
mental training for the power took place on the afternoons and
evenings.
Katrillion was proving to be very good with a sword, and even
better as an archer. She could split her arrows in the centre target,
one after the other from various distances. Davian was having to
work very hard to keep up, so he worked very hard, and kept up. In
hand to hand, she always beat him, as she did a lot of the men too.
It was in the battle strategy where she really surprised everyone,
taking the various scenarios given, and planning how to deal with
them efficiently. They even tried the really old ones from the times
long past, and she was able to look at them and formulate
something workable. She had this talent, this knack of being able to
quantify and qualify things quickly.

Her talents did not go unnoticed by the Council.

Scouts were still going out to the north valleys for news of the
people, and their plight, but they were still only surviving under this
absent tyrant.
Gryanth was well and truly in charge, but he never ventured out
the safety of Picalda castle, ordering his minions to do his dirty work
for him, or bringing what he wanted to him and his black-hearted
cronies back at Picalda. Gossip in the villages became vital as an
intelligence-gathering network, and various methods of lines of
communication were set up. Different coloured ribbon or bands
round one tree had a different meaning around another. A code of
not only the colours, but also the tree species itself meant different
messages each time too. That way they could find the safe routes
without speaking to a soul, both in and out, and get major
information left for them in code, which was sent back using
messengers; while the scouts carried on to find out the details.
There were losses, but very few, and their cover was never blown.
Brave men and women, who were sacrificing everything to stay onestep ahead, though they did comment about the satisfaction they
got from putting one over on the soldiers and their backup.
Many types of retaliation were thought up, and then scrapped, as
the retribution would fall very hard on the people who had to endure
life there, so it was lots of little campaigns, a soldier poisoned here,
a soldier falling off his horse, with a little help, there. All accidental,
or food poisoning from the meat or grain, it was slow, but it was
effective.
The latest news from the Eastern Valleys was not good.
Gryanth had ordered his men to find people who could be more
easily broken, and send them across to his castle. There was prison
wagons crossing over on the east/west track daily, in this tyrants
incessant quest for the information he was seeking.
The villages now knew what this dark hearted devil was looking
for, and they did not know the answer. None of them did, but they
could pass on this information to the Southern people, for them to
use. These villagers knew nothing of the paths into the marshes
either, so they could not betray anyone.
This Gryanth was looking for the Power of the Marshes, something
that existed only in legend, and had never been seen or heard of in
over a millennia. They kept telling his representatives this, but to no
avail. Gryanth wanted it, and Gryanth was going to have it.
The latest of the scouts to return were on their way to the Council
chamber to give their latest reports, passing Katrillion and Davian
who were now almost eighteen years of age, practicing their sword
movements and patterns alongside each other, so it looked like a
synchronised dance being performed in slow motion. Something
caught Katrillions eye, something about these scouts, the way they
were walking, their hushed whispers, and she started to fear what
they might have to say. It was like a premonition. She followed
them. Davian decided to stick with Katrillion.

The scouts entered the chamber, together, and so did Katrillion

and Davian. The usher guarding the door moved to intercept them,
but saw a look in Katrillions eyes, and stepped back.
The scouts each told their tales of rape, pillage, and degradation
from all of the villages and homesteads in all of the valleys, of
torture and death of the innocent, of the beginning of the end of the
tribes of East Deaton.
The council members lowered and shook their heads, looking to
the chairman for guidance. He sat upright, and spoke,
My worthy fellow members, we are at a crossroads in our very
existence. The cousins in the north desperately need our help, but
we are not in a position to give it. We have our own soldiers, but
they are not fully trained, so would die going up against an army the
size of that of Gryanth.
Our army is small and ill equipped, compared to that of Gryanth,
and it would be like sending lambs to the slaughter. We need more
time, but we are rapidly running out of it
Katrillion felt cheated at these comments. They may not have the
biggest or strongest army, but if they had a small victory, others
would join. This was starting to get too political, and that would not
solve the problems of the many injustices going on in the world
around them. She started to feel indignant at first, and then a little
disappointed at the lack of any worthwhile action being planned.
There was more than one way to halt an enemy army.
She summoned up some courage from somewhere deep inside of
her, and spoke, her voice ringing out around the chamber,
Then we should cut off Gryanths money supply. Destroy his
mines at Roxa.
The whole council, together with the scouts standing in the
centre, turned to look at Katrillion, and she awaited the rebuff she
knew she was about to get from the chairman. They said nothing;
they only stared at her in disbelief.
It was Davian, who finally broke the silence,
Katrillion, you are glowing again!!

Chapter Twenty-Two
There was much excitement and fervour in the town when news
broke of the blue glow surrounding Katrillion in the chambers.
Some of the townspeople thought it was a sign, an omen, and
others thought it would bring destruction to their way of life, but
they all agreed it was a miracle. Could she really be a Guardian?
And so young too. Perhaps she may only be a priestess.
Everyone was excited, except Katrillion that is. She wished it had
never happened.

Since then, she had had to sit with trainers, council advisors,
medical persons, both physical and mental, and lots of other people
who just wanted to know what it felt like, and how she did it.
That was the problem. She didnt feel it, and didnt know how she
did it.
They organised tests to recreate how she felt in the chamber,
both times, as news of the first occurrence was now common
knowledge, and no matter what she tried, it would not happen.
What did happen was the taking up of her suggestion about
hitting the mines at Roxa, and cutting off Gryanths money supply.
Armies do not work for free. She outlined her plan as such.
Very few scouts had ever been sent up the west side of the Dry
Zone, as they had never needed to gather any intelligence from that
region in the past. Now they needed to gather as much as they
could about the pathways, roadways, hiding points, crossing points,
and troop movements all the way up to Picalda, and beyond to Roxa.
Once established, then a small raiding force could be secreted
around the town of Picalda, until they had all arrived and were all
ready to travel up to Roxa, doing so in secret. Other small raiding
parties would have also by then arrived in small groups, spread
themselves all over the town, till the raid was given the go ahead by
the leader on site.
Once the mines were emptied of slaves, heavy supports on the
underground bridges would need to be knocked out, and the tracks
inside for the carrying out of the gold bearing rock rendered useless.
They knew that they would not be able to free all of the slaves,
and they would not be able to destroy all of the mines, but it would
severely reduce the flow of the gold metal being produced to fuel
Gryanths little war.
They needed people to be hidden all of the way along the
East/West Track with supplies and water for the escaping slaves, but
this could create another problem.
Once the alarm was raised at Roxa about the breakout, Gryanth
would learn of this at about the same time as the slaves were
passing Picalda on the junction of the east/west track, which ended
at the town itself. All he needed to do would be to despatch his
soldiers straight onto and along the track, hunting them down and
killing them long before they got to the eastern end. For the same
reason, they could not use the Western Marshes for cover as they
were too far south of Roxa, and they would still have to pass the
gates of Picalda to get there too.
Katrillion was sitting with Davian, in between the lessons of sword
practice and the archery classes, when she came up with an idea
that might just work. It was radical, it was different, but it might just
work.
The small army of raiders was being assembled, the first of the
groups to go, taking with them the best swordsmen they had as well
as the best sneak thieves to pull off this raid, and their equipping for
this covert attack had begun. The blacksmiths busied themselves

making swords, the fletchers making the arrows, and new bows
together with the quivers and lots of armoured chainmail had to be
produced. The plans were taking shape. Horses that were to be used
for part of the journey were being brought in to the town to be
trained in waiting silently alone, and the food and water dumps were
being planned, the locations of which would be decided once the
intelligence information came in.
Katrillion asked to see the council, an application that was
granted immediately.
She once again stood on that red circle painted on the floor,
looking at these elders, these decision makers, but she knew that
this time she felt she had the upper hand.
You are aware we have a problem with the current master plan
when it comes to freeing the slaves, and getting them out of the
area as quickly as possible.
They will be exposed almost immediately they travel south from
Roxa towards the town of Picalda, the soldiers of Gryanth will find
them easily.
I have a much more radical plan, a one that neither Gryanth nor
his men would ever suspect or expect. It would need scouts to
gather information in exactly the way it was going to be done in the
original plan, food and water dumps, safe hiding for large numbers,
the plans are similar, but not the same place.
My plan is to go out to, raid, and come back over the Dry Zone.
It has never been properly mapped, but it can be, and it is the
shortest direct route to Roxa without having to pass Picalda. Gryanth
will have no warning we are coming, and when we have done what
we intended to do, hell wonder where we have gone.
This forward thinking young woman once again caught out the
council members. This avenue would have to be explored. It would
certainly give them the element of surprise.

Chapter Twenty-Three
Gryanth was fuming!
His torturer and his assistants had just reported that this last
batch of clients had revealed absolutely nothing, every single one
of them seemingly willing to die rather than reveal the secret.
Instead they had all insisted that they have no idea what this so

called legendary power was, or is, or how to get it, and what it does
or doesnt do.
He could only conclude that this secret power must be something
worth having, as all these people were prepared to sacrifice
themselves to keep it from him. His paranoia was heightening daily
now, and in his mind, the whole world was keeping secrets from
him, even his most loyal staff.
He wasnt eating properly, and he hadnt slept for days in a bed,
only napping in his throne chair in case his torturer had a
breakthrough, and had done little sleeping for many months before
that. His plan of capturing the blond haired blue eyed races had now
backfired, as there were no more to be found anywhere in the lands
of Deaton and beyond.
His mystics had told him that these blond haired blue-eyed
people were the keepers of this power, as it was a single blond
haired blue-eyed woman who had wielded it a thousand years ago
with apocalyptic effect. This power was going to be his.
Within the last few months, the normal peasants of East Deaton
were being sent in from their hovels to his castle, and were now
starting to assist in his enquiries, with the help of his team in the
cells. These simple folk were not as simple as they would have you
believe, as they also denied any knowledge of this power, other
than it was stuff of legend. He had decided to ease back on the
amount of torture per day to each of the people, but to repeat it
over a longer period, so they could not escape the captors by dying.
He had them now. They are not as clever as they thought they were!
In a last ditch attempt to make sure he was asking the right
questions of these clients, he had summoned all of his mystics
from throughout all of his lands both here and over the mountains to
the North West, and for them to bring with them all of their books,
spells, rune stones, crystal ball, or star charts, whatever it was they
used to produce this information, and to come together around the
table in the Great Hall to meet, and that day was today. This was
something that rarely happened because the mystics were all by
nature, deeply suspicious of each other, and would keep back
information if it suited their purpose to later prove their superiority.
Gryanth was very well aware of their petty practices, but he knew
that by him forcing them together in fear would far outweigh their
petty squabbles. He would be there in person, and any such
behaviour would have swift and brutal consequences. They had
been left by themselves around the table in the Great Hall to
squabble for about an hour, before Gryanth walked to the large
double doors and entered, his action silencing the squabbles
immediately. They all sat, like sheep, looking at their Lord.
My magical advisors, you are all here because there are answers
to which I need to know the questions to ask. Things that have not
yet been revealed to me, foolishly I might add, and there are things
that some of you know a part of, and others know other parts of the

same, but because of your stupid pride, it is never been properly

linked to form an answer.
Today, here and now, that pride ends, or your life does, it is your
choice as either way your petty little power struggles do not interest
me in the slightest. What does interest me is when one of my
mystics feels that they should not divulge information to me in case
others get to know this secret.
That action of withholding information carries the punishment of
death by public execution, and any goods and chattels owned by the
perpetrator will be seized by me, and then your families, for those
who do not practice celibacy and have one, will be cast out into the
street to beg or die, so think on well before you answer.
He now had the rapt attention of every one of them sitting around
the table, the only audible sound was the cracking of the wood logs
burning in the fireplace.
So we begin, my loyal mystics, starting with the answer from
each and every one of you, in turn and uninterrupted, one by one to
my questions. I expect the answers to be a full truthful description
of all of your knowledge on the subjects we are about to deal with. I
do not want gossip or hearsay, only what you know as fact, or told
to you as fact.
He sat down at the head of the table, and turned to the first
mystic on his left,
You will go first and it will pass, person to person all of the way
around the table, without petty interruptions about where your
information was gained, legally or otherwise. Do I make myself
clear?
The mystics all nodded their understanding of the rules of this
game, and put their personal pride into their most hidden recesses
of their mind for now. Gryanth meant business here, and this could
be dangerous for any of them, at any time.
So we begin. Each question will be answered as best and
truthfully as you can, and everybody will answer the first question,
before we move on to the second. If I suspect a conflict of
information, we will return to the persons involved in giving this
information to me, and work out which is the more plausible, given
the various sources of the information you have all gathered from.
What I must know, first of all, is the truth. I must know what you
know, not what you assume or imagine. Not hearsay, or legend. We
will deal with them as this meeting progresses.
It is possible that more than one of you will be proved wrong, but
that could be from using the wrong people for your information, and
that will go without punishment.
If, however I suspect that you are blatantly lying to me, I think
you already know what that penalty will be
He turned to the first mystic on his left and asked,
Tell me, what you know about the Power of the Marshes?

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

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

Chapter Twenty-Five
Gryanth sat, in the Great Hall, still surrounded by his mystics.
They had been at it for three hours now, and finding out what they
knew was harder than trying to pull dragons teeth. What he had
learned so far was not enough for his scribe, over beside the
fireplace, to have made more than three lines of entry.
Up to now, it was confirmed that they had all heard of this Power,
but none of them had ever seen it in operation. They knew from
their source that it was blue, or that is how it appeared to be to their
almanacs, and they knew it had a reputation that it was not to be
messed with. Other than that, he had learned nothing.
His second question revealed a little more information though,
even though it was similar, it was far more open.

Tell me, he said to the circle of faces staring at him, What you
have heard about the Power of the Marshes
This opened the floodgates to what these mystics had been
waiting for, to impress with their knowledge and understanding of
the black, blue, green, even yellow arts they practiced. They could
now impart what they regarded as their much-researched
knowledge directly to Gryanth without the other mystics shouting
them down as talking fallacy, heresy, and various other scathing
derogatory remarks.
Gryanth knew that each of the reports from his bunch of actors
would gain in size and effect the further it went around the table,
more and more being added on as it went. To counter this, he made
it a rule not to repeat anything already mentioned, and to say
nothing to add if all that could be said on that subject, had been.
He had no intention of sitting here listening to waffle for two days.
He heard many times, in different forms, the legend of the
darkness descending on the land, a thousand years or so ago and
the blond haired blue-eyed people, led by a mighty warrior halting
the advance of the huge armies with a spectacular blinding light.
Other than that, there was little information to glean on this subject,
till a near last mystic spoke about what he had heard of the legend
that had not been mentioned so far.
The blond haired blue-eyed people were a race which allegedly
came long, long ago, from a land many miles to the south, and were
said to live somewhere beyond the Southern Marshes, in some
secret location, and that when the final battle that took place over
the millennia ago was played out, it took place on the land that is
now from the east/west path going northwards, killing everything
that once grew there and making it a desert, what is now known to
us as the Dry Zone.
It is said to still be haunted by the many souls of the people who
died in that battle, on both sides, and no one will venture near for
fear of the dead, and no one has been, that any of them knew of,
crossed over it since and lived. The peasants still fear it.
Gryanth pondered on this latest information. Everybody knew the
Southern Marshes were treacherous and totally impassable, from
any direction. Many people have tried and failed over the years to
find a path, the water over a long period of time has carved out too
much of the landscape turning it all into quagmires, and quicksand
sinkholes. If the blond haired blue-eyed people came from beyond
that area originally, then they cannot come from that region any
more, and, as he has already systematically cleared out any of that
race from all of the villages within his domain, he should not see or
hear of any of them again.
As to the Dry Zone, let the people continue to think its haunted or
cursed, then its an area he need not bother with, as no one will go
there. They dare not.
He now felt safe.

No one existed anywhere within his entire domain that could

wield the power against him, and he could now seek it for his own
possession at his leisure.
He dismissed his mystics, knowing full well that before they left
the castle they would be arguing with each other, as normal, and
they would not dare to utter what the discussion was, for they never
own up to working together.
Gryanth sat for a while in the Great Hall, alone and in deep
thought. He was perfectly safe, nothing could stop him now.
He had learned a lot from this exercise, and was pleased he had
thought of it.
Now he needed a little relaxation, so keeping his thoughts to
himself for later, he walked out of the hall, turning in the direction of
the cellars, and to the chambers of his torturer to see what could be
laid on for some entertainment.

Chapter Twenty-Six
Davia signalled to his men to cross from the forest and into the
edge of the Dry Zone one by one, and to drop into a ditch-like trench
about 500 yards in. They were making good time, and had all
started to cross the north/south track just south of the valleys. So
far they hadnt seen any sign of soldiers or civilians.
They had left Haneera at dawn and travelled east, and then
northward through the secret pathway of the marshes, emerging
from them at the eastern corner of the triangular shaped forest.
They had then passed into the forest itself, travelling almost directly
northwest, making sure they did not break branches or leave trails a
good tracker could follow as they made their way hastily through
the densest parts of this woodland. They skirted any clearings they
found so their footprints could not be seen on the soft earth, till they
made it to the north/south track, somewhere about six miles north
of the east/west track junction. Travelling this way, they would have
two streams to cross, one from Alephin valley, and the other from
the Lassabek valley, as they did not become one river until just
before the east/west track junction, so, being higher up the streams,
this made them shallower and easier to cross.
Davia had crossed over them and into the parched land that
signalled the beginning of the Dry Zone, with two of his men, to do a
little scouting, and had found this large trench about 500 yards in,
so signalled the rest of the squad to follow.
Night was starting to fall, and they could perhaps have gone
another few miles, but Davia decided that here would be ideal to
overnight. Firstly they wouldnt blunder into dangerous and possibly
fatal obstacles in this totally unknown territory in the fading light,

and secondly, it was easy to defend and keep a guard on, as they
could see and hear anything approaching from any direction.
They all settled down for the night, two sentries placed, one at
each end of the sleeping scouting party, the scouts taking it in turns
to do the watch.
The only noise they could hear all night was coming through the
ground, a low throbbing sound like distant machinery working. Could
this be the sound of Roxa and its mines? It seemed very distant, so
it was a possibility, as they were only about 65 miles ahead of them,
northwesterly.
The sun came up, and the scouting party made ready to carry on,
splitting into three groups, and started travelling in the same
direction, but about 400 yards apart, always in sight of each other,
and all at the same speed, slowly surveying the land, and mapping
it as they went, the three maps would eventually become one back
at Haneera.
As the tales from long ago had told, nothing seemed to be
growing here, an occasional clump of dune grass, and the odd
stunted tree no bigger than about three feet. The ground was soil,
not sand, but it was hard under foot, the top layer caked hard to a
depth of at least six to eight inches.
The rise and fall of the land made it appear that it resembled a
brown version of the valleys to the east, though erosion from the
winds had cut some of the hillside heights down, and filled some of
the valley bottoms with that dust, however the rock structures
beneath the soil remained, as there was no water to erode them
away, their top protruding edges sharp and spiked. Quite dangerous
in the dark.
They knew that they must take their time looking and checking,
mapping every peak and trough, stopping frequently to exchange
information with each other, and then carrying on again. It wasnt
easy in this constant heat of the sun.
About halfway across, they discovered that the soil had taken on
a different colour, a darker, glass sand colour, and they had heard of
this land from legend. They were entering the central area known as
the Dead Zone.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ulsen was a slave driver.
After the announcement of her sudden rise to fame, she had
taken some time to plan the needs of a raiding party of yet unknown
size, and had drawn up numbers and amounts of armaments of all
types, swords, scabbards, bows arrows, slings, knifes, daggers, the
works, and wanted them all now!
Then they would need clothing that was light, but offered good
protection from the sun, and the other elements of the Dry Zone,

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

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Davia halted, and signalled his men either side of his group to
silently halt too. He wasnt sure but he thought he saw a glint of
something metallic, a reflection of the sun on something up ahead.
They had only been in the area known as the Dead Zone for
about an hour, and many strange things had been seen. A lump
here and bumps there, mounds of black rock, all circular over the

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

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

Chapter Twenty-Nine
The people of Haneera were pleased when Davia and his scouts
finally returned, and set about drawing up the map, and starting the
planning of the real raid on the mines. They had the real information
now to work with, and due to Davias skill, an accurate plan and
map to work to.
When talking to the Council about the plan and the map, Davia
could not understand why it was said in all of the stories that people
had never set foot in the Dry Zone for a thousand years, as there
was little to be either frightened or wary of in it. It seems as if its
only a desert to him, easily crossed, and once recently inhabited.
The Council had to call upon their knowledge of things past and
present in their culture and folklore to be able to answer his enquiry.
The Chairman spoke,
The Dry Zone as we all now call it, together with the Dead Zone
at its centre is feared by many people. When the Great Power was
unleashed a thousand years ago, in an attempt to protect all of the
people of these marshes, these areas you speak of, areas for many
years after the unleashing had different names, the names that we
know of now as both Dry and Dead coming much later in the
history of the territory
Before the coming of the darkness a thousand years ago, what
we now know as the Dry zone was a fertile, and pleasant land,
farmed by local people, and producing bountiful crops, with water
streams similar to those that now irrigate the Eastern Valleys
running through this whole area, and our Southern Marshes were
nowhere near as big as they are today. When the malevolent

darkness came to rob these people of their birthright in a long and

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

Im eighteen, what difference would it make if you told me

now?
Ulsen knew that Katrillion had spoken the truth, and it was her
duty to pass it down through the generations, being a Keeper, but,
rightfully, it should have been passed down to Katrillion by Sisilend
her real mother, now feared dead. As the childs mother was not
here, then it would fall to Ulsen, her grandmother, to explain her
heritage and birthright, but would she understand it?

Chapter Thirty
Ulsen sat for a moment composing herself, and told Katrillion to
go and make the door fast, using both bolts, and shutter the
windows, so no one could enter or hear what she was about to say,
and they sat together, Ulsen making fresh cups of hot herbal tea,
and then they in front of the fire again.
What I am about to tell you must neither leave this room, or your
head. Do you understand? This information can only be passed on to
your blond haired blue eyed daughters, and to no one else.
Ulsens face changed from the pleasant countenance she
normally showed to people to a very stern expression, her eyes
seeming to harden with blue.
Katrillion nodded. She understood when her grandmother spoke
like this it was serious, and should be listened to. She sat upright
and listened with rapt attention. Ulsen continued,
A long, long time ago, the whole of Deaton was occupied by
blond haired and blue eyed people, as well as their cousins, with
dark hair and brown eyes. They farmed the lands stretching from
the mountains in the northwest, the lands in the west, and all the
way over to the valleys in the east.
They prospered and were able to send their produce to other
districts passing through the many mountain passes, and along the
now flooded track ways in the south. They had everything they
needed, or would ever want to have in the future. Even the gold was
crudely mined, though not at Roxa, but further north where the
veins are richer
This should have been an idyllic lifestyle, and it was until certain
young girls in the area were able to do things the other girls could
not.
They glowed a light blue colour, the intensity of the glow being
dictated by the blondness of the hair, and the blueness of the eyes.
This seemed to occur when they felt intimidated, and they could

affect things around them physically just by looking at them, or

even just thinking of them. They could shatter bottles, both
earthenware and glass from a distance while they were feeling
vulnerable.
This however, also upset some of the dark haired brown eyed
parents who feared that should they chastise the blond child for any
reason, this power could be brought to bear if the child felt
threatened.
Over time, as the intensity of this strange glowing became
greater, then the Regional Council as it was then, decided that all
blond girls over the age of six would be trained in self control, so as
to prepare them for when this strange power came upon them at
age eleven or so. This training, over time became very restrictive,
and the girls were robbed of their independence, and even their
childhood. They could not even play together any more in case one
of them accidentally injured the other.
You know that this is a load of rubbish, but that was what they
believed back then. These poor girls became the unwanted species
by virtue of the colour of their hair and eyes. To give birth to a blond
haired blue eyed daughter was beginning to get frowned upon, and
a type of segregation seemed to creep into their society
When things eventually came to a head, the blond haired and
blue eyed women, with their daughters chose to leave those fertile
lands, with all of the blond husbands, and went south, travelling
through what is now the Southern Marshes and then beyond,
leaving the brown haired civilisation behind.
This solved the apartheid problem for the race still occupying the
lands which became the Dry Zone later, because none of the
children born after that were of pure blond hair and blue eyes, and
therefore could not receive the power that they feared so much.
They felt safe now, and carried on with their lives.
In total, about one hundred and fifty pure blond haired and blue
eyed people moved away, so there was no major drop in the
civilisation occupying the old lands, and everything went on as
before, but only for a while.
Our ancestors carried on with our development and became a
race of our own, finding that this power would only manifest itself if
the person was either inside the Southern Marshes and northward
from there over the now named Dry Zone, hence the name it was
given, the Power of the Marshes. For many years our forefathers
studied the Power in great detail, and understood the many triggers
that could summon the power, these remaining, and still are, closely
guarded secrets.
Where a culture, any culture, is thriving and having a better life
because of it, there is always someone who wants it from you, not
dissimilar to what is occurring now.
An evil man, a seer, or had been at one time, thought he would
use his magic and enjoy his lavish lifestyle funded out of the
peasants in Deaton.

He is alleged to have put a spell on the Council to make them

give him anything he wanted, and, in the story, this is what they
said happened.
In reality, there was no spell, just a lot of corruption,
blackmailing, drugging, and poisoning going on among the officials,
eventually replacing them all with his own puppets. Public floggings
were part of a normal day
He had everything now, and still wanted more. He would
experiment on people to see how they would react to some of his
potions and powders, for future use of course, should a worthy
adversary ever appear to try to stop him.
A cry for help went up from these people, and at first it went
unheeded, the distance to the next civilisation from there being too
great to hear in the normal way. No courier or messenger could get
through. The message did eventually get through.
It wasnt heard by our ancestors, it was felt by them!
For some reason, all of the girls started to glow in a light blue
haze, all at the same time, and in their minds they could hear a
message to return to their ancestral lands.
Then something peculiar happened.

Chapter Thirty-One
Katrillion changed her seating position as her legs were starting
to cramp from sitting in the same position too long, still listening
with her undivided attention. Ulsen also took the opportunity to
change position too, her older bones a little less resistant to the pain
of sitting still too long. Katrillion spoke,
Do go on.
Do you understand what has happened so far? asked Ulsen.
Katrillion nodded, and settled down for the next part of her
education. Ulsen continued,
As I said, all of the girls, and the women too started to glow
together, at the same time. Not a bright glow, but it could be seen
surrounding them, a moving, whirling mist of sky blue colour.
On one young woman however, the glow intensified to a bright
light of whirling mists, spinning at speed, with a bright glow which
could be seen for miles. She was afraid of all of this, as she was a
quiet girl from a sheltered upbringing, but something inside her told
her not to be afraid, she just knew somehow that she would not be
hurt in any way.
Many things happened over the next few days, as the blond
haired blue eyed tribe travelled to their ancestral land, to what is
now the Dry Zone, and on arriving, wreaked out a sort of revenge on
the invaders.

The young girl with the strong glow became known as The
Guardian, and the others as Keepers of the Power, and these
Keepers were merciless in their quest. By the time the raiders had
realised they were under attack, it was too late.
The people who lived there were most thankful for their lives,
but turned on them again and bade them goodbye, in effect chasing
them back to the Marshes again. This was now another injustice,
and the Guardian was having none of it.
No-one knows how or why, but within seconds, she reduced their
ancestral land to ash and dust, a desert, so no-one would ever profit
from them again, but in doing so, killed the innocent villagers too.
She was to come back and restore it in a few years, but didnt.
She spent the rest of her life as a recluse in the Southern Marshes,
the guilt of what she had done weighing very heavily on her
otherwise innocent heart, and she could not forgive herself.
Katrillion interrupted, But grandmother, she was defending the
lands from two enemies not one, one of black heart, and the other
might as well have been. A set of thieves, both of them, but using
different methods.
But you see my child, to her, as an innocent herself, she had, by
her own hand murdered the guilty with the innocent without
segregation, even though the so called innocent were certainly not
as innocent as the legend would have you believe, and she decided
she had to do a sort of penance for her actions.
From this, to protect the blond haired blue eyes race, the stories
which make up the legend were changed to make it more mystical,
so that it would stand up to scrutiny should anyone try to dig out the
truth.
Shortly after the destruction of the lands, the streams
disappeared underground from across what is now the Dry Zone,
and the southern areas became marshes as the water surfaced
again, flooding a massive area. The passes through the mountains
were destroyed too, in effect, sealing off the whole of Deaton from
the outside world, except to us
Our ancestors founded Haneera as a base for our people to
come and go, bringing in information from all of our clans
throughout the lands here and adjacent, a poor consolation for the
beautiful land we used to live in, so we spread out up the east
Deaton valleys, mingling and settling with other races, but always
maintaining the pure line of our birthright.
That, my dear Katrillion, in a nutshell, is your birthright, your
family tree, from then right up till now.
Katrillion smiled at that. She knew she belonged to a large family
now, and it made her feel better, but she was still puzzled,
But grandmother, there is one part of the story, a piece of
information you have not told me yet.
And what information would that be my child?

How did this Guardian level the land and kill all of the people
with this power? How did she summon, control, and then do it with
the Power of the Marshes?
That my child, unfortunately none of us know the answer to, or
have ever known. In truth, we still do not know what the Power of
the Marshes can do.

Chapter Thirty-Two
Davia signalled to his first raiding party to take up their positions
on the right flank, another to their positions on the left flank, he
himself with his raiders taking up the central sweeping role, exactly
as they had practiced it, over and over in the days leading up to
their departure from Haneera. A couple of hours ago, as the daylight
had just began to fade away completely; he had crawled up to the
fence line, his movements hidden by the latrines, and fastened a
red cloth to the post as arranged. He knew that Condran had seen it,
and there was a lot of covert movement going on inside the
compound, in and around the huts. The raid was on.
They had left Haneera more or less deserted as the people slowly
spread themselves out over from the east side of the Southern
Marshes, and north westerly through the forest. A couple of people
here, a couple more there, these places being water and food
stations for the retreating raiders and the slaves.
From the other edge of the forest at the northwestern side, where
it met the north/south track, this is where the archers took up their
stations, both up in the trees and on the ground. It was highly
unlikely anything would come across the east/west track from
Picalda, a little further south from where they currently were, till
long after they had gone, but, it was possible for soldiers returning
from the villages to the north of them riding back to Picalda passing
down this track.
Some of the archers took up positions in the trench just inside the
Dry Zone border, as did some people with the supplies of food and
water, a position from where they too could also watch for soldiers
on the track.
All of the way over the Dry Zone, through the Dead Zone, and out
of the other side, people were being left at different points all along
the route, and because of the expected high temperatures here
when the sun was full in the sky, small tents for shelters and some
balms for burned or scraped skin were included in their supplies, as
well as the usual water and food.
By the time the raiders had reached Roxa, there we near two
hundred people from Haneera spread out diagonally over the land of
Deaton, from southeast to northwest, and in a near perfect straight
line.
All they had to do now was wait.

Davia watched the guards patrolling these fences, and knew that
soon, they would go down in numbers to no more than four or five
for the whole compound, the slaves by then having been locked into
their huts for security, so the rest of the guards could go off duty,
and do what all soldiers did there, as there was little else to do. Get
drunk.
There was little moonlight to betray what was coming next, and
cloud overhead helped to disguise the raiders movements.
At the given signal, the raiders moved in, dealing with the gate
guard swiftly and silently, opening them, but not fully, so as not to
attract attention. The raiders moved in, swiftly and silently,
spreading out down the flanks once inside the compound gates.
Davia and the central wave headed straight for the huts, prising
off the locks by tearing the wood away, and started to release the
prisoners, giving them instructions to go out through the gate, and
meet a person on the other side of the track, who will send them
into the Dry Zone. He received some strange looks, but, with
Condrans help, he was able to convince them that they would be
guided all of the way.
They went silently from hut to hut, braking the locks and
releasing the slaves, then advising them what to do next, receiving
even more strange looks from these prisoners too. Somehow the
thought of going over the Dry Zone seemed to temper their
enthusiasm for escape.
Eventually, all of the huts had been opened and all of the slaves
released; though the few slightly infirm elected to stay and destroy
more of the mine after the raiders had gone, knowing this could be
suicidal.
Once the slaves were on their way to the first muster point, a
couple of miles into the Dry Zone, the raiders set about doing as
much damage as they could to the workings of these mines. Lifting
block poles were smashed, the water troughs filled with the washing
water for panning were all destroyed, and the whole of the roof and
wall support structures in the mines themselves removed, resulting
in the whole workings being brought down.
They had to make sure that nothing on the surface caught fire,
even though it was now an inferno below ground, as this would be
seen from the towers on the hill of Gryanths castle at Picalda, and,
as yet, these raiders still had the element of surprise on their side.
With the whole garrison of guards tied up and locked in a hut, and
everything blazing merrily under their feet, the raiders departed the
mines, even closing the gates behind them.
They knew they had to get a move on now, as from now, the
clock was ticking.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The slaves were moving along the route at a pace, and the
raiders who were coming last, collected the guide and unused
supplies from each station along their route, and then erasing any
evidence that they had been there at all. They were slowly rolling
back up the chain of people they had laid out on the way up.
By the time they had reached the Dead Zone, they were slowly
starting to catch up some of the stragglers, these slaves in need of
treatment, and not really strong enough to carry what needed to be
taken back, but the raiders were able to take up the excess.
By morning, some of the slaves, and the Haneerian guides were
crossing the north/south track, and into the comparative safety of
the forest, and a steady stream of people were sent safely, a few at
a time, across the track throughout the morning.
However, by midday, the temperatures in the Dry Zone would
make it impossible to travel, so the remaining chain would have to
sit out the heat till late afternoon, before restarting their exodus.
This gave them time to eat a proper meal, and sleep away some of
the pain from their injuries.
It also meant that the Haneerians guarding the tracks had to
spend time waiting about, but still watching for any sign of soldiers.
Katrillion sat up a tree, her legs in the side-saddle position over
one of the boughs.
Sitting on the bough next to hers was Davian, feeling very
important that he had been selected as a Bowman, and not just an
archer. They could only talk to each other in hushed whispers in
case there were spies or sneaky soldiers about.
Do you think we will see any of the enemy? he asked Katrillion.
I do not know, she replied, But if we do, we must do our duty,
and I think we can both down a moving target without too much
trouble.
They sat in silence again.
A short while after, the next batch of the returning slaves and
escorts were starting to cross the track, and into the forest, to be led
on from there.
Katrillion suddenly slid off the bough, onto the ground and started
running towards the escapees. Davian, followed ready for a fight.
She suddenly challenged one of the escaping slaves, who turned,
looked at her for a moment then ran at her. Davian had his sword
ready to draw, but Katrillion made no effort to drawn hers. So he
paused. This young man wrapped his arms around Katrillion, and
they hugged each other, weeping with joy. After a short while
another, younger man joined in the huddle. Davian would not admit
it to anyone either then, or later, but he felt the pangs of jealousy
for the first time in his life, and he did not like it at all!
Katrillion called him over, so he took his hand from his sword and
walked across as boldly as he could make himself look.
Davian, I would like you to meet my two brothers, Condran and
Beaden, brothers I have not seen for near five years, and am
overjoyed to see them alive

Davian smiled. Her lost brothers were here. She would be really
happy now, and he still had no competition for her friendship. The
pangs so readily brought to the surface, now slowly abated.
The reunion had to be brief, as the boys needed to get to Haneera
as soon as possible along with the other slaves, and Katrillion with
Davian needed to get back on watch again from their trees.
Everything was quiet, even the birds were quiet at this time of the
day. Just a couple of released slaves with their guide every fifteen
minutes or so crossing below them and into the forest.
Then, in the distance, Davian spotted a dust cloud on the
north/south track heading towards them. Soldiers, on horseback, it
looked like two of them.
They signalled to the people in the trench on the Dry Zone to halt
any more people crossing, but were too late, as a couple were just
about to cross the track as the soldiers arrived at this spot. They
were seen.
The soldiers drew their swords as they rode at the people on the
track, intending to cut them down where they stood.
Both Katrillion and Davian reacted at the same time and loosed
an arrow each at the marauders, knocking them both off their
horses, and onto the ground.
Dismounting their tree, they needed to move the bodies of these
soldiers and the horses from view as quickly as possible, so they ran
to the track, Davian started pulling the soldier Katrillion had shot
straight through the heart in the direction of the trench in the Dry
Zone, while she gathered up and took the horses into the forest for
cover. They could be a valuable asset later.
As Davian bent down to grasp the legs of the first dead man, the
other solder behind him moved. The arrow from Davian had only
wounded him, so he stood up with his sword high in the air coming
at Davian unseen, ready to strike from behind.
Katrillion saw this scene unfolding in front of her, but was too far
away to intercept. She feared her friend was about to die, another
grave injustice. A massive sadness swept over her whole body, and
in an instant, she saw Davian sitting on the track staring open
mouthed at Katrillion, as were most of the escaping prisoners in the
trench with their guides, and neither of the soldiers to be seen.
She could not understand. One minute she was about to see her
young friend die, the next, nothing had happened. She found it all
so confusing. Had she dreamed it?
She walked over and helped Davian to his feet, him still staring at
Katrillion with his mouth open and his eyes wide open and staring.
If you do not stop that staring at me like that, you will earn
yourself another slap, I am warning you! she said to Davian.
He looked down and apologised for the stare, but he could not
help it.
When I saw the shadow of the second soldier on the ground next
to me. I thought my end had come. I was almost anticipating the

touch of cold steel on my neck, but it never came. He was

physically shaking by now, the shock was taking effect.
I looked up, at you, thinking to myself goodbye, and saw you
were inside a sort of bright blue and white bubble of whirling mist,
part of which was moving towards me like a huge tidal wave,
spreading out as it went. I felt nothing of it, only the blinding
brightness of blue. When it hit these soldiers, they just were not
here any more. Totally vanished
Katrillion, you must be one of the chosen, a real Guardian of the
Power, as you have just used it!!

Chapter Thirty-Four
All of the way back to Haneera, after all of the slaves and guides
had cleared the Dry Zone and were now in the forest, Davian kept
asking Katrillion how she had performed that trick of making the
soldiers disappear, and she kept replying that she did not know how
she did it, and that having it was starting to frighten her.
She needed to speak with Ulsen as soon as she could, in an effort
to make sense out of it. Then again Ulsen would be preoccupied with
the safe return of her two grandsons, and that perhaps should take
the priority, after all it was a happy reunion, and should be
celebrated. She felt she should wait before going into the details of
what and how she felt at the time.
The Council however had other ideas. They wanted the
information, as detailed as possible from her as quickly as possible,
something she didnt really have.
Under the guise of spending time with her rescued brothers, she
avoided the pointing and the comments from around the town by
staying at home till the novelty of it had had time to wear off, and
the Council could wait. There was family business to attend to first.
Condran and Beaden settled in with Ulsen in their modest little
house, telling the story of their kidnap right up until their rescue.
This information was what the two women needed to know.
Condran began,
While Katrillion had been to the market in Alephin alone that
fateful day, the raiders from Gryanth came to our farm, and took all
of us away, thinking they had the whole family.
We were taken by prisoner cart to the castle on the hill outside
of the town of Picalda, and were thrown into the large dungeons
there. The blond haired and blue eyed people were all being
systematically tortured by the minions of Gryanth for information
about the Power of the Marshes
Unfortunately we found out, he looked at Katrillion with real
sadness in his eyes, That one of the first to be brutally tortured was
Marally, our little sister.
Tears welled up in the eyes of Katrillion, and she just could not
understand why a torturer would even attempt to get information

from a deaf mute. This was pure evil this was. It could be nothing
else.
Condran continued.
Then, because of the pureness of colour in mothers hair and
eyes, she was singled out for interrogation by Gryanth himself, and
our father was made to stand fettered and watch as she suffered at
his hand. I was told he attempted to help her, and one of the guards
chopped off his head in front of her. Mother died shortly afterwards
kneeling at the feet of Lord Gryanth
Both Ulsen and Katrillion were now sobbing at the terrible news of
the demise of Walgard, Sisilend, and Marally, and all of this done to
them for some information they did not have. Very few alive have.
Condran, together with Beaden wrapped their arms around their
grandmother in an attempt to try to comfort her, but to no avail.
Ulsen was furious, and her eyes, normally blue were now bright and
hard, like diamonds. She wore an expression of hatred that could be
seen clearly by the rest of the family in the room.
Condran continued his story,
Being boys, and therefore not expected to have the power he
was seeking, we were chained up, and sent to the mines to work, up
at Roxa, which is where we met other blond haired blue eyed men
who had come from the more southern regions, part of our race we
did not know existed till then. One in particular I can think of was a
man named Davia, who I believe you already know. He said he
needed to return to someone
Ulsen and Katrillion nodded.
We were able to effect an escape for him by Beaden feigning an
illness, so Davia carried him out of the workings, saying he was
moving him out of the way of the work, and took him to one of the
huts. I was able to draw the attention of the guards, and got a
beating for my trouble, but Davia still managed to get out.
He said that one day he would be back, and he kept his
promise.
They all sat together than night in their little house, sharing the
grief of the family as a family. Ulsen spent most of the darkness
hours sobbing for her lost family. The others could hear her but
decided to allow her to grieve in peace.

Chapter Thirty-Five
Gryanth was storming about the Great Hall, throwing things from
the table at the walls and sweeping dining materials off the table
onto and over the floor.

He had been lied to, and lied to, and lied to again, and the liars
were going to pay with their lives.
The previous night, a soldier had been brought to him from the
mines at Roxa. He told of a very large gang of pirates, who had
freed all of the slaves, then set about creating as much damage as
they could, and it was real major damage they had done to the
workings of the mines themselves. It was enough damage to
severely hamper gold production for at least the next six months.
This was no random attack, this had been planned by someone to
get at him, and he wanted to know who would dare to cross him. At
first, he thought that there might be a usurper within the ranks, a
jealous individual with delusions of grandeur thinking they could
take over this empire by stopping the supply of money, then bribing
his army.
This did not seem right. If these had been normal pirates, they
would have taken as much of the gold as they could have carried,
yet none of the boxes ready for shipment had been touched. Not so
much as a flake had been taken.
Then the soldier went on in more detail about the pirates
themselves. Almost all of them had blond hair and blue eyes.
This made Gryanth livid, as he had been assured by his mystics,
and then by his own soldiers over in the villages to the east that the
race of blond haired blue eyed people had been totally wiped out,
and then from nowhere, they suddenly appear in the very north
west of Deaton, in large numbers too, and then as suddenly as the
appeared, vanish without a trace.
Could this race be as magical as they were believed to be? If this
was the case, then he needed to get his hands on this elusive power
even faster than he had originally intended, and if they are still
about, he should be able to find them and take it from them a lot
easier.
He had sent scouts to see if they could track the movement of
these pirates, but no trace of them could be found anywhere, no
footmarks, no horse prints, nothing. It was as if they vanished into
thin air, every single one of them. This raid, and its escape was a
physical impossibility, so there must be something he has missed,
somewhere.
He ordered his men to check the outskirts of the Dry Zone outside
of Roxa, and northwards to the mountain rim, but since the soldiers
really did not know what they were looking for, they naturally found
nothing.
A further report had come in from the villages over in the east a
couple of days later. Two despatch riders had failed to make it over
to the headquarters here in Picalda, both riding together for security.
They left the valley of the village of Alephin and have never been
seen since. Even their horses vanished without trace.
Further despatch riders travelled the route later without any hitch
at all.

It was the report from another despatch rider, this time from the
valley of Lassabek, which caught Gryanths attention.
This rider was despatched about twenty minutes later than the
others, they coming from Alephin, and he from Lassabek which is
further away, but when he saw the storm brewing on the horizon,
down near the track junctions, he turned back and went to Alephin
to wait for it to improve before going on, something it did within less
than an hour, so he was able to make the time up at a gallop, but he
never caught the other two riders up, riding all the way to Picalda.
There had been no storm that day, confirmed by the later return
riders, so this rider was asked to describe what he saw that made
him think there had been or was going to be a storm at the end of
the north/south track, and he explained a huge bright blue and
white flash, made of reflected light, like sheet lightening would
create, but there was no thunder to follow that he could remember.
As his information from Lassabek was in the main routine, he had
left reporting it till the next day.
Gryanth was trying to put everything together, and coming up
with answers he didnt really want.
First the blond haired blue-eyed people were still about, and in
large numbers if the guards at the mines were to be believed, and
they had raided his mines, stealing his slaves, but not his gold. They
appear to be somewhere in the south of Deaton, though where?
There is nowhere to go in South Deaton. It was all impassable
marshland. He would have to set about to find out in due course.
What interested him most at the moment was this blue flash. Could
this be the elusive power he is seeking being used? He now knew it
existed; someone had it, he now wanted it to be his.
New plans were needed.

Chapter Thirty-Six
A great excitement was felt running through the town of Haneera,
having rescued some of their own kind from under the very nose of
Gryanth. The feeling of doubt in their own abilities had gone, and
they felt elated at their group effort to make the rescue raid a great
success.
This new optimism had spread throughout the whole town, and it
felt as though a dark veil had been lifted. They all knew that this
was not the end of their troubles, but it was a start in getting rid of
them.
One certain occurrence on the way back was placed under an
embargo, and the people who witnessed it, were not allowed to
mention it to anyone until the Council had been able to investigate
whether it happened, or it was a mass hallucination, possibly
brought on by the excitement of the raid. This was the appearance

of the Power of the Marshes, or what was deemed to be that. As yet

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

the targets are easy to spot and shoot at from your hidden positions
over the other side, as if defending the track.
Make sure that the point where they meet the actual mire is
where it is the most sudden, and plant what appears to be horse
tracks made of floating wood so they will follow it in and then
cannot retreat out, and you can silence them from your hidden
positions, that way they cannot warn their compatriots behind them
of the trap.
We know that the beating we have just given Gryanth will fire up
his need for revenge, and it is better that we control what and how
that revenge will take place, giving us the upper hand.
To that end, I am sending a single solitary old woman, Ingria, to
the western edges of Picalda to meet up with a mystic called
Theoblan, a crazy man with visions that he will prove he is the
wisest wizard in all of the lands, in his favourite tavern, his little
theatre on the western fringe of the town.
This man will believe anything if it will gain him favour with
Gryanth, and elevate his status within the mystic community, so, all
Ingria needs to tell him, as if she heard a rumour, is that the blond
haired blue eyed people have a secret track through the marshes,
exactly where we will be making one, and she has seen the white
haired devils riding in there with her own eyes. After that, she
vanishes and hides out in Picalda for a couple of weeks.
Gryanth will send a scouting party, find what we wish him to
find, and report back that the rumour is true. The bait then has well
and truly been taken.
Davia was smiling. This was a ruse to beat Gryanth at his own
game, snare him through his own rage, his own darkness.
This needed some planning, some really cunning planning. This
would be enjoyable, yes, very much so.

Chapter Thirty-Seven
As Davia left the Council Chamber with his men, outside, waiting
to go in was Katrillion, with Davian his son, and the people who had
been in the trench in the Dry Zone when the blue wave occurred. It
was time for their story to be heard.
The witnesses were the first to speak, one by one, saying what
they saw and heard up to this unusual phenomenon, and then, in
their own words, what happened after it.
They all told more or less the same story, about the soldiers being
shot by the Bowmen who were sitting up in the trees, and then the
appearance of Katrillion and Davian on the track to remove them
and their horses from view as soon as possible.

The girl had taken the horses to the bushes in the forest and
tethered them there, returning to assist the young man to drag the
bodies to the trench, which the witnesses occupied.
The boy was bending over to turn one of the bodies onto its back,
and then pick up the legs, ready to drag him away out of sight when
the other soldier, lying a short distance away and behind him,
stirred. He had only been injured by the arrow, and had opened his
eyes, saw what the boy was doing, and silently crept up on the boy
from behind, sword drawn ready. By the time the boy saw him, it
was too late.
It was at this point that the stories began to vary. Some said the
light or wave or lightning came from the forest, some said from the
sky, and only one said it came from Katrillion, and that was Davian.
He explained how he had seen Katrillions head go back slightly,
her arms move out a little from her body, palms forward, and raise
her arms slowly to about waist height. Time seemed to be standing
still. The soldier seemed to be frozen on the spot, and nothing was
moving, including himself. A huge whirling mass of bright blue and
white clouds seemed to be spinning around Katrillion very quickly,
and yet her hair never moved, even with this hurricane speed of
wind rotating around her body, in fact it looked as if her eyes were
closed too.
Suddenly a huge tidal size wave formed as the huge ball that
surrounded Katrillion collapsed in on itself, and it surged forward,
passing over him in an instant, pushing him over, and then it carried
on into the Dry Zone till it was over the horizon.
All of this only took no more than a second in time, and Davian
looked for the soldier who was about to strike him down, but he
wasnt there. Neither of them was.
The Council deliberated for a while amongst themselves having
called a recess, and then reconvened, but this time with only Davian
and Katrillion in the chamber.
It was time for Katrillion to give account of what had happened,
and she concurred with everything Davian had already said till it got
to the part about the blue and white whirling cloud.
She can remember seeing the soldier creeping up on Davian, her
best friend, and she thought that this was an injustice, he going to
die so young. That was when she felt this massive overwhelming
feeling of sadness for her people, and the next thing she remembers
is everybody staring at her. If it were the real Power of the Marshes,
she still did not fully understand the trigger. She has felt sadness
before, in fact only recently finding out about her parents and her
little sister, but nothing happened then with this power, so sadness
is not the trigger, it comes as the result of the summons.
They talked for another hour about how she had felt, how she had
reacted, over and over again, till, with anger, she began to glow a
little in the Chamber. They stopped.

Outside, as the two of them walked to Ulsens house, Davian was

still as curious as he always had been, and Katrillion was still as
puzzled as everybody else, as to how the power was summoned.
Word of this happening had spread throughout the town like a
wildfire, and people were shying away from her as she was passing,
speaking amongst themselves in low whispers, no doubt
exaggerating every detail with every telling. She did not need any of
this at this time.
Back in their home, Ulsen asked how it all went, and they told the
story that had given to the council, and that Katrillion still did not
understand the trigger.
Ulsen suggested that the trigger could be a combination of things
at the correct amount of each, bearing in mind that the first known
Guardian had become reclusive because of the sadness that
followed, not realising it was part of the power.
Thinking along these lines, Katrillion started to analyse her many
feelings when the soldier was about to attack. There were many.

Chapter Thirty-Eight
Davia and his men were setting up the Southern Marshes, using
the old paths that used to lead to the Western Marshes before they
had to be destroyed in case they were found out by Gryanth to do
the section for the defenders.
From these old paths, they could come up from the south to the
mires and bogs that littered this part of the Southern Marshes, and
picked the spots where they would hide the defenders, and still be
able to see the soldiers on the other side, sometimes as close as
about 12 feet away, but 12 feet of heavily disguised quicksand
between them, and sometimes as much as 400 yards. These men
worked very well together, and within a couple of days, the hides
had been sited, and built, to protect the army from any return fire
they may receive during this escapade.
Once the inside areas of the marshes had been made ready, they
had to travel, carefully, to the other side, using the real path out of
the marsh in the east, and back along to the man made extension of
the north/south track, where they were to seed the land. Grass was
hacked, bent, flattened from the mire end of this track they were
building, and they continued to build it coming out backwards, doing
a little less each time, so that by the time they reached the
north/south track, only a little bit of disturbance was made, but a
few heavy horse prints in an around this new entrance.
They were ready.
Once this ruse had been physically completed, Ingria set out on
her way up the east/west track, then north to Picalda, with a cart full
of wood and vegetables, seemingly from the villages. Ingria had
naturally black hair, though now it was going gray, and with her

green eyes, this gave her the look of a witch, with the way she
dressed.
Her journey was uneventful; patrols passed her, going in both
directions and never gave her so much as a second look, and she
entered the portcullis gate, and into the town of Picalda. In order to
give her cover more realism, she set up a stall in the market place,
selling the goods she had brought with her. This would pay for her
food and lodgings while she hid out here for the next two to three
weeks.
Picalda was a transit town, with people coming and going,
merchants, buyers, pickpockets, thieves, vagabonds, tramps,
prostitutes, the whole dregs of humanity descending on the only
town where they could all ply their trade, even if it wasnt legal. The
gentry also assumed that they owned the only road or track out of
Deaton, which ran through the mountains behind the town, and ran
off westward to another of Gryanths stolen lands. These merchants
made a great play on this exclusive route when pricing the goods
the townspeople bought. Sometimes it was more difficult to identify
which was the real thief at times.
By nightfall, Ingria had sold her goods, at quite a profit due to
some expert haggling, and took her horse and cart to the local
stables in the west end of the town, paying for a few nights keep for
the horse, and then made her way to a tavern, known to be
frequented by the one person she really wanted to see in this
terrible town. Theoblan, the mystic.
She found him where the spies had said he would be, almost out
of his brain on wine and some locally distilled product, and spouting
off about the mystical powers he had at his command. She needed
him a little more sober, so she hatched a plan to snap him out of it a
little. Sitting with a flagon of ale at the table next to him, she
feigned that she overheard he was a Magi, a mystic, with powers.
She turned to him,
Did you say that you were a mystic? I was talking to a very
powerful one at the market today, and she named another rival of
his.
He took the bait, and became a lot more serious,
I and only I, am the master Magi in this domain! You have been
hoodwinked by a charlatan my good lady.
But sir, how am I to know that it is he and not you that is the
charlatan?
Theoblan rose to the challenge. He sat up straight, flicked his
sleeves, and said,
I will show you that I am the true Magi.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

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

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

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

but this information was of great importance, and when the last
section was revealed, and the money paid, the mystic left, thinking
to himself that not only had he done his lord a great service, but got
quite a bit of money in the process.
Gryanth returned to his bedchamber, only this time he was
formulating a plan. Something that would teach this blond haired
scum not to mess with the mighty Gryanth.
Tomorrow, first order of the day, dispatch some scouts to that
area and see what happens.
The rest of his night for him was restless.

Chapter Forty-One
Davia was sitting on a small bough on the south side of the
swamp area of the Southern Marshes, his men placed at different
intervals and in different advanced positions inside the hides they
had made for themselves. They knew they would not have long to
wait before Gryanth would send a token force to see what they
could find in this manufactured entrance, and were coving these
posts on a shift cycle, with sentries in the dark hours, and the full
force around midday, the time they would be expected to arrive if
they left Picalda at about dawn.
Lookouts had been posted in the trees of the forest which was
where the east/west road terminated, and a signal network set up to
warn the army if soldiers were on their way.
Sure enough, on the second morning that Ingria was to have
given the information to the enemy, soldiers were spotted on the
track, heading for their position. The signals were given, and they
started the waiting game.
As expected, at the end of the east/west track, they turned right
and headed south to the border of the marshes, and the longer
grass.
The evidence that was placed for them to find was eventually
found, though it seemed to take ages, and they started to venture
into the outer areas of the marshes, on foot, checking about and
looking for any sign of people having been through this way. They
found quite a lot, but only because it had been put there for them to
find.
They slowly made their way to just before the mire when Davians
men opened fire, intending to create an illusion of the presence of a
large force rather that to actually hit any of the soldiers. There was
a token fight back by these brave men, but they were sustaining
heavy injuries from an unseen enemy within the marshes. They
retreated back to their horses, and set off to report their findings to
Gryanth. All of the way up to the east/west track, unseen archers
were raining down arrows on them, once again, not to hit them, but

to dupe them into thinking they were dealing with a really huge
army.
They never stopped the gallop till they reached Picalda, running
as if being pursued by the devil himself.
Gryanth awaited his report, sitting in the small hall, with just a
small number of his aids around him this time. If he was to be
planning a war, then the least number of people knew about it, the
better.
His Captain was brought to him, and the rest of his men stood
down, the wounded soldiers being taken to the healer.
So, Captain, what did you find? Was our information correct? Is
the garrison there large or small?
My Lord, we went to the location you had given us, and at first
we found nothing. These blond devils thought they had got away
with it, but we spotted some small telltale signs, exactly as you had
prophesied, with the broken grass, and hoof prints, as though they
had passed by in a hurry.
We checked very slowly and carefully through the entrance to
the marshes, these telltale signs taking us left and then right deeper
into the land.
It was as we approached what looked like a clearing; we came
under attack, from a very large force. We returned fire, but we do
not know if we hit anything as the visibility in there is not good. I
dare say that is why we had only injuries and not deaths as the poor
visibility was also working in our favour and we were able to
withdraw quite quickly.
We mounted our horses to come back and report, and came
under fire from another large force somewhere over in the east,
near the north/south track.
Gryanth sat for a moment contemplating, then asked the Captain,
What size would you estimate their army to be, in numbers?
The Captain thought for a while, then replied,
I would say in the marsh itself, about one hundred and fifty,
maybe two hundred, and on the east of the entrance, about another
hundred or so. Those arrows were coming down on us like rain Sire.
Gryanth sat, again contemplating his options. They were not easy.
He dismissed his Captain so he could also receive treatment from
the healer, and sat back in his chair.
If he were to ignore these people, eventually they would come
back for revenge for what he and his kind had done to them,
possibly with a much larger army than they have now. To have to
fight them now before they could get a larger force would mean
pulling all of his troops together from the whole of Deaton, including
the valleys areas, which would leave his new subjects in the east
free to riot, though their freedom would be short lived, as he would
suppress them again after immediately he had won the battle. This
would be only a minor problem.
He would have to be careful if these blond vermin did have this so
called power, as they may try to fire it during a battle. If they did,

his men would be given priority orders to capture the means of this
weapons production of this power, be it some kind of machine or
projectile sling, whatever it took.
He was starting to warm to the idea of taking his men into a full
blown war, to finally and totally annihilate these thorns in his side
forever, and be able to gain this new weapon at the same time.
He needed to plan, again.

Chapter Forty-Two
Back in Haneera, there was much rejoicing. Gryanths men had
taken the bait, so the trap was reset, and new supplies of weapons
were being made to replenish the stock, especially arrows. They
knew that Gryanth would have taken this skirmish personally, and
was probably by now calling up as many to arms as he could find,
even from the other lands he so cruelly domineered. This would take
him some time to organise, so the spies and scouts from Haneera
were sent to Alephin, Kotro, and Lassabek to monitor the troop
movements away from the villages.
For the next three weeks, there was a build up of soldiers
reporting to the castle, and they all needed feeding and lodging
while they waited.
More staff were being taken on in the kitchens of the castle and
the surrounding bakers and butchers. Among these was Ingria,
making herself useful in the kitchens and catching up on the gossip
as she went about her business, though this had not been part of
the plan. She saw it as a way to get the latest information before
taking her wagon allegedly to the valleys for more fresh supplies.
By halfway through the second week, the numbers of troops was
in excess of a thousand, and at the beginning of the third it was well
over two thousand, and still growing at an alarming rate.
Ingria need to warn the people of Haneera of this mass gathering
of force, and hung around as long as she could to get the latest
number.
It was while she was in the tavern that night he heard some of the
soldiers talking, and placed herself where she could hear as much of
the conversation as possible.
Ees a clever bloke that Gryanth, said one of the soldiers, with
that plan of his to rid us of the blind devils, pure genius Id say.
The others at the table nodded and murmured assent to what he
had said. Another spoke,

But what I cannot see is why hes putting the soldiers from the
villages into the southern end of the forest, I mean there will be no
fighting there will there.
The first looked at him with scorn and said,
You werent listening again were you? Hes keeping them hidden
in the forest so that if things go badly for our boys, we can retreat,
and draw the blond vermin out into the open, where the troops in
the forest can slip in behind them and we then attack from both
sides.
The second soldier seemed happy with this answer and nodded
his approval, as did the others.
Ingria was not happy though, Haneera needed to be warned.
The next day, she hitched up her cart onto her horse, and loaded
the empty wicker baskets onto the back, looking as if she was going
for more supplies, and drove through the gate of Picalda, then onto
the east/west track. She took her time, not wanting to raise any
suspicions, and everything went well. Patrols were passing her at
times, going in both directions, and she understood why the
numbers were not increasing into Picalda.
At the junction of the track with the north/south track, her plan
was to take the cart into the forest, tie the horse up there and make
her way, as quickly as possible eastwards, and to the true entrance
of the marshes. By the time the cart was found it would be too late.
She got down from the cart, and, after a quick look around to
make sure that no one was about, she led the horse into the forest,
planning to go quite deep before leaving the cart, and walked
straight into an eight man patrol of soldiers, looking for places for
them to hide the rest when the battle was about to start.
What are you doing in here wench? asked the nearest soldier.
Ingria had to think fast,
I am in here to relieve myself after the long journey, and here no
one can see me while I make water, so if you gentlemen will excuse
me, she looked around at them, and waited for them to leave her
sight.
She needed to move fast, so, as the last soldier went from sight,
she turned east and bolted, running as fast as her legs could carry
her, straight onto the blade of a sword held by another hidden
soldier.
That should take care of another of their lines of
communication, said the last soldier, Thats the third spy in the
last four hours.

Chapter Forty-Three
Word got back to Davia that the troops were massing in huge
numbers in Picalda, and that after her horse and cart were found

alone at the bottom of the valleys, they had to assume Ingria had
been killed trying to get back to Haneera, though why she should
have broke cover so early, he did not know.
His men were placed ready in their hiding places within the
marsh, to try to take down as many of Gryanths troops as possible
by luring them into the deadly mires.
Both Davian and Katrillion had volunteered to do this with Davia,
but once again, were being kept out of the firing line, and they were
to be placed, working as Bowmen, to do sniper work near to the real
entrance of the marshes, and should any of Gryanths troops stray
too far east, they could dispose of them. A vital job, but a really
boring one.
Then it all started.
A rumble of horses hooves could be heard coming along the
east/west track, in so large a number it made the very ground
shake.
Davia received the light signal from one man in the dry zone they
were coming, so he signalled his men to be ready, and they waited,
and waited.
The rumble of the horses hooves kept on going and going, until,
a huge block of over three thousand men sat looking at the fake
entrance that had been made. There were so many that they
stretched back almost up to the valley entrances on the north/south
track.
At a given signal the first hundred or so dismounted and
advanced, creeping into the marshes, watching and waiting for a
defensive strike to hit them. It didnt so they advanced further, by
now advancing almost up to the mire edges, and another hundred
or so soldiers dismounted, and started to follow them in, cautiously.
The large centre block of soldiers remaining also dismounted, and
drew their swords ready for hand to hand combat should the blond
devils try to fight their way out. The horses were cleared away to
the back, remaining with the still mounted soldiers.
As the first of the troops went into the mires, they started to raise
a shout to the others not to come in, as it was a trap, but Davias
men were able to silence them with arrows through the neck to stop
them using their voices.
The second wave, on hearing the sounds of what they thought to
be battle, rushed in to engage the enemy, and ended up almost
running headlong into the mires, also being silenced by the
excellent bow skills of Davias men. Most of the first wave had
already disappeared from view by the time the third wave came in.
Then they stopped coming. They just stood there, on the north/
south path till the remaining soldiers had mounted again, then
withdrew up the track to the entrances of the valleys, and waited.
Davia knew they were trying to draw them out, and if no one
appeared, they would work out that this could not be an entrance,
but a trap. They had to go out of the real entrance, and come back
westwards skirting the marshes, and then into the solid edges

before they got into sight of the enemy, emerging from the false
entrance as if puzzled. This would be a suicide mission, so only the
volunteers would be used in the first wave.
Davian and Katrillion suggested that they should follow up from
inside the cover of the forests, should Gryanths men get through
the blockade they were about to set up, and this was agreed.
Katrillion thought to herself that at last she would have something
to do
Davia and his men came out of the marshes, and set out along
the path towards the false entrance they had made to the marshes,
travelling in small numbers in case it was a trap, but they made
their positions, and the next set, and the next skirted the marshes,
till they were all in position on the north side of the marshes, near
the false entrance.
Gryanths men still didnt move, they sat on their horses, with the
swords drawn awaiting a command.
When the last of the volunteer Heneerians had set out to join
Davia, Katrillion and Davian set out into the eastern side of the
forest and started to make their way to the area of the forest next to
the east/west junction. The trees were better there to use as lookout
posts, and they travelled silently as they could through the
undergrowth. They used it like a game, dodging from tree to tree as
if creeping up on a target, and practiced all that they had learned in
their training, just in case they ever needed it, laughing quietly to
themselves as they went.
Laughing until Katrillion came upon a soldier from behind, hiding
in the forest, out of sight of the north/south track. She stopped,
suddenly and then silently signalled to Davian to look for soldiers.
They counted over twenty that they could see, and there were
bound to be more nearer the track that they could not see.
They moved back, and then tried a little further north, and it was
the same, soldiers hiding in the forests waiting.
Suddenly it dawned on Katrillion why they were here. The
Haneerians were about to advance northwards up the north/south
track slowly, trying to get within firing range of the army on
horseback up towards the valleys. They would pass this position on
their way, and once passed, these troops would move out behind
them, cutting them off. This was not just a trap; it was going to be a
total annihilation.

Chapter Forty-Four
Katrillion stood there, trying to fully understand the gravity of the
situation. They knew they had to do something, but two against an
army? She signalled to Davian to withdraw. They moved back a few
hundred yards, and they got together when they were sure they
were out of earshot of the ambush crew.

What shall we do, Katrillion, asked Davian, How do we stop this

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

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

everything, the people, the horses, and the trees, washing over
them like a massive tidal wave, and rolled on into the distance.
Then came silence, from everyone and everything.
For the first time in nearly a thousand years, a Guardian had
called upon the Power of the Marshes.

Chapter Forty-Five
Davia stood there, in total disbelief. He had been knocked off his
feet, but bounded back up, sword in hand ready to fight.
All of his army was lying on the ground, most of them knocked
unconscious by the sheer power of the blast. Around him,
everything seemed to have slowed in time; things seemed to still be
flying through the air, soil, horses, and soldiers. Gryanths soldiers,
all being swept away by this huge tidal wave of light. Then only
silence.
He looked around again. The army they were to engage in battle
had gone, completely, as were the ambush party behind them, all of
them totally vanished, not even ash remaining. He could see a
figure lying on the ground over by the trees, and ran across to see
whom it was. He found Katrillion, drained of energy, but still alive.
What was she doing here, and where had she come from?
As his men slowly started to recover from this really strong blow
to their bodies, they also wondered where the army of Gryanth had
gone. Scouts would be sent to the valleys, but they would find not a
soldier remained there either. One minute there were soldiers on the
streets in the various villages, the next, a flash of light, and they
were gone completely, vanished without a trace. Even their horses
were gone.
Davian arrived with the reinforcements, which were now not
needed, and when he heard what had happened, he knew who had
caused the defeat of Gryanths men. Davia had an idea that it was
the Power of the Marshes, but only a full Guardian could have
unleashed that amount of power, and created that amount of effect,
but there has never been a full Guardian in Haneera for at least a
thousand years.
Katrillion was carried back to Haneera even though she wanted to
walk, by some of the army, on a stretcher with Davian walking
alongside, quietly telling her what she had done. She felt an
extreme sadness inside her still, and Davian suggested that might
be because of the innocents who were attached to the guilty, like for
example, the soldiers horses and things like that, but she said she
thought it was not. What she had done was only to restore some
order of justice to the land of Deaton, but she felt it was not yet fully
restored. Something was missing. Something more had to be done.
In the next couple of days, the army prepared itself to fight again
should others from Gryanth try to find them and kill them in a

frenzied revenge attack, and some scouts were sent out throughout
the whole of East Deaton. The body of Ingria was found in the forest,
murdered by the soldiers sword. They now understood why she
broke her cover early from Picalda, she was on her way to try to
warn them of the ambush, but she didnt get through. She was
taken to Haneera for burial, as were all of the heroes who died in
these battles, the number being surprisingly few.
Davia was honoured as a hero, as was Davian, along with many
others on a long list, all gallant warriors every one of them. Some of
them unfortunately had either died in battle or as a result of it, and
a moment was taken to honour those who had died, not just the
fighters, but the people like young Marally, and the many after her
who died at the hands of Gryanths torturers. Then it was time to
celebrate the honours of the living.
Ulsen sat in front of her fire in her house, with Condran and
Beaden, watching over their sister, Katrillion who was trying to get
out of bed so she could join in the festivities with Davian. She didnt
want to be cooped up in the house recovering from something she
isnt really suffering from, but Ulsen had said she should rest a little
more. She could celebrate later in the week.
This was not really true. What was really worrying Ulsen was the
change of peoples attitude towards Katrillion now she had been
proven to possess the power of a Guardian. They may grow to fear
her, and eventually wish to cast her out, unlikely, but possible. The
Council were starting to become fearful of her a little already, and
from this, all manner of problems could arise in the future.
Davian called at the house for Katrillion, wanting her to join in the
celebrations with him. He was recognised as a hero and he wanted
to share his joy with his best friend, so a reluctant Ulsen agreed that
she go, along with her two brothers, as they could do with a little bit
of cheering up after what they had been through, and they could, if
necessary, report back if there was any hostility.
When they all arrived at the Town Square, the party seemed to be
in full swing, so they circled the centre, more or less to keep out of
the way. She was spotted by all of the people as she approached,
and a silence fell, everyone looking at her.
She felt embarrassed, and was about to turn and leave for home
when the clapping started. First it was two or three people, then half
of the gathered crowd, then all of them, clapping and cheering for
Katrillion. This cheering and clapping went on for over ten minutes.
Katrillion felt a little humbled by it all.
She was led to the dais in the centre of the square, and stood on
it, the townspeople surrounding her and asking for her to speak. The
Council Chairman introduced her, to thunderous applause.
What can I say, she began, That you do not already know?
For some reason, I have been chosen at this time of great need
to be a Guardian, a position I feel I am not worthy of. However, as
this was not my choice, then something, somewhere thinks I am
deserving of it, to do this, and do it well

The crowd erupted with applause again, taking another couple of

minutes to subside.
Alas, the job is not yet over Im afraid, and I feel it in my heart
that there is another quest I have yet to undertake, and it must be
soon. There is still a black stain upon our land, and I must address
this with all haste.
More applause.
I must go to the villages in the valleys, with some men, for there
is where I think the black heart will try to wreak his revenge

Chapter Forty-Six
What do you mean no soldiers? Gryanth roared at one of the
courtiers, I have thousands of them!!
The courtier backed away towards the door, head bowed so as
not to summon the wrath of Gryanth again.
I ask you to do a simple task, and you said you cannot find any
of my Captains!
They should have been back two days ago, and Gryanth had
wondered why no one had reported to him about the battle. Perhaps
they were exhausted, and intended to come and tell him the
glorious news today when they were strong enough, or perhaps the
war still rages. This silly chap said there had been no soldiers
entering the town since the army left.
He would have to go down to the barracks and sort this out
himself. Even if he got to speak to a single soldier, he would get to
know if they had captured this weapon for him in the battle. His
patience was now at an end.
He entered the courtyard, and the guards at the doorway
snapped to attention at his passing. He turned to them,
Have either of you seen any of the army I sent out four days ago
to the south?
Both men looked at each other and replied that they hadnt. The
only soldiers still in the castle were the guard garrison, left to defend
it should the blond devils appear again from nowhere and attack
Picalda.
He immediately stormed across to the guardroom, which was
situated just inside of the portcullis gate and built into the very
walls, looking for the master at arms. He found him.
Master at Arms, have you seen any sign of the army I sent out to
do battle over in the south?
No Sire, none of them have returned as yet. I sent out a couple
of outriders to see if they could see any sign of them, but right
across the east/west track, and up towards the village valleys, no
trace of them at all.

It is impossible that they would lose this war!! Gryanth barked,

We had vastly greater numbers, and also a trap. They could not
have won! Where were the bodies of the men and their horses?
Gryanth was now beside himself with rage, and turned to the
Master at Arms, and barked out an order,
Send out some more men. Tell them this time to look closely at
the ground. See if there are scorch marks or anything like that,
anything that could signify a weapon had been fired, an explosion of
blue fire, anything like that
Oh, I dont need to do that, replied the Master at Arms, We saw
that from here not three days ago.
Gryanth almost choked as he tried to bellow at the top of his
voice so he reduced it to somewhere near a normal volume,
Did you see this weapon, how was it fired, and when? Who fired
it?
The now terrified Master at Arms replied, in a shaky voice,
Well, my Lord, we didnt really see any weapon, just what it
looked like when it came towards us.
Stop the blithering and tell me what you saw, and in as much
detail as you can.
The Master at Arms pointed out of the slit window, built into the
walls as a defensive position from raiders, towards the south east of
the Dry Zone,
I was standing here, expecting one of the regular messengers
from the valleys to arrive, as he was running late, so I was watching
for his approach across this end of the east/west track.
There was no sign of him, not even on the horizon, and I thought
he must have got either caught up in this battle that was due to be
fought at the other end of the track, or decided to wait it out till our
boys had won.
Gryanth was getting impatient, but he had asked for all of the
details, so, he kept quiet.
Anyway Sire, I happened to look out of this window, and over
there I saw something very strange, he pointed in the general
direction of the south east end of the track, About there.
Gryanth looked to the horizon, estimating that that would be the
position where the trap would have been sprung from the forest. He
signalled his Master at Arms to continue.
I saw this strange light, bright as the sun it was, but light blue in
colour and little flecks of white tumbling around inside of it. It was
coming towards us as breakneck speed, faster than anything Ive
ever seen before, and I started to fear what I was seeing.
It got bigger and bigger the nearer it got, like a huge tidal wave,
and it was near forty feet when it reached the end of the Dry Zone
over there. He indicated a spot about a hundred yards from the
castle gate.
The Master at Arms paused, and then his face took on a puzzled
look.

By now Gryanth was really annoyed, and demanded the rest of

the story, immediately, or else. The Soldier carried on,
Well, Sire, that was the bit I couldnt understand. It came to the
very edge of the Dry Zone, then, it just collapsed, to the ground,
gone as if it were never there.
After a while, when I got my nerve back and thought it was safe,
I went outside over to the edge of the Dry Zone to see what I could
see, but there was nothing. No marks, no heat scorch, and not a
grain of sand out of place.
One minute it was bearing down on us at frightening speed, and
the next, vanished completely, like magic.
Gryanth knew it wasnt magic. Someone or something had fired
off this power he desired, and turned his men and horses to ashes,
which must have blown away in the wind. He wasnt bothered about
the men, he could get replacements for them quite easily, it was the
horses and the leather on them that would be difficult to replace.
He returned to his rooms, muttering that they had not yet felt the
last pain those blond devils were going to feel from Lord Gryanth.
He wanted his revenge, and he knew just how to get it, and
maybe the power too.

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

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

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

Chapter Forty-Eight
Rumours were flying in Picalda. Mystical little rumours of magic
and sorcery were everywhere. Even the many mystics around the
town were starting to take notice of these new tales, as they would
not like a usurper to suddenly appear on their patch and jeopardise
their income, especially if this one had some form of real magic. For
their own existence, Gryanth must be convinced to rid the land of
this interloper, this charlatan, and it was up to them to convince
him.
Gryanth, on the other hand, was more interested in making the
East Deaton villagers pay for what their blond haired cousins had
done to his army, and more importantly, his reputation. He felt sure
that if he hurt them, the blond haired tribe would appear. These
blond devils were going to suffer, oh they were going to really, really
suffer.
He had dispatched a scouting party to the villages, and was
waiting the return of them, so he could finally receives the report he
had been so long awaiting, before planning his next move. He did
not have long to wait.
The soldiers returned, a little beaten about, but still alive, having
run into one of the blond haired patrols on the way back, and they
were taken straight into his presence.

For two whole hours he questioned them about what they had
seen, heard, witnessed, even assumed.
From these two soldiers, he learned that a blond haired garrison
guarded all of the villages by patrolling the valley entrances, and it
was like a wall of bodies to pass through. The soldiers had
succeeded to sneak around the blockade, and were able to get quite
close to the village of Alephin, in the first valley. The villagers there
were seemingly going about their business as normal, and they
could not see any trace of their comrades who had been posted
over this side recently, or find out where they might be imprisoned.
The place was overflowing with blond haired blue-eyed people,
though the indigenous villagers were all brown haired brown eyed.
They were lucky enough to overhear some interesting gossip
though, and looking at the preparations going on in the village, it
could well be correct.
Someone very important was going to visit the village, someone
really important. The villagers were hanging out coloured bunting,
and the bakeries were working as hard as they could to make large
fruit cakes, as if for some kind of celebration. Wine was being
fermented in huge quantities.
Gryanth listened to his men, and these facts were of great
interest to him, as it meant his men could not snatch the weapon or
its operator or carrier anywhere in the valleys, as it would be too
well protected.
The two soldiers however, did report that the weapon would be
travelling from the south, somewhere south of the marshes and
would be spending an overnight stay in the cover of the forest, more
or less where his ambush had been laid.
If Gryanth were to get this weapon, he would have to do it at the
east side of the east/west track, roughly where the last battle had
supposed to have taken place. He would have his remaining soldiers
armed, and ready to go.
However, his mystics were all agreeing and advising him that this
weapon could only be bestowed on, given to, or taken by, a person
of high status, and not given to a lowly soldier.
He was extremely reluctant to leave the safety of the castle, but
he was on the horns of a dilemma. Was he willing to take the risk of
losing any chance of seizing the power altogether by remaining in
the castle, or should he ride out with his men to collect it in person.
The mystics all seemed to favour the latter, and said they could cast
a spell to protect him from this so called power, as long as he
remained on his horse.
Gryanth was a coward, but a greedy coward. He would spend the
night thinking over his options.

Chapter Forty-Nine

It was nightfall when Katrillion, Davia, Davian and some of his

best men arrived at the junction with the east/west track, and set up
their camp for the night well inside the tree line. Sentries were
posted, and the battle plans were drawn.
They expected Gryanth would take the bait, and would decide to
try to hide his men, like before, using the forest as cover, and then
await the coming of his enemy. Unfortunately for him, they were
already there, in his position, and waiting for him.
There were two plans that could play out. The first, Gryanth would
remain the coward and hide in the castle, just send some men over
to try to capture the power from the blond army. If that happened,
then this blond haired army would simply melt away into the
background, and remain out of sight till Gryanths soldiers had gone,
as if they had never been there. This would then mean fresh
planning all over again.
The second scenario, and the preferred, would be that Gryanth
would ride with his men, having taken the bait that had been sent,
that way would then trap him outside of the castle. They also
expected him to remain on his horse, as this was another of the little
rumours sent to the town, and this could also give Katrillion a better
positive identification of this black-hearted individual.
They sat around their campfire that night, and each told their
story of the campaign so far. They told it so that everyone present
knew everything that had happened to everyone, so it could be told
and written down later, even if some of them did not make it back.
The information was shared.
They sat together like good friends would, all in the circle, no
exclusions, knowing that tomorrow could be their last day. They
talked about the good times, and the bad, each in turn saying what
they wished for, and what they didnt want to see.
They all slept a little that night, but in the back of all of their
minds were the risks they were going to take at sometime tomorrow.
Over in Picalda castle, Gryanth didnt sleep at all. He paced the
floor in the Great Hall almost all of the night. He had his
Chamberlain in with him as a sounding board, running through his
options out loud, and then asking the Chamberlain which sounded
the better plan.
By dawn, he was exhausted, but he had decided that he must
ride with his men, though he would remain at the rear of the column
at all times, if he was to stand any chance of gaining his final goal.
He was also bringing along his mystics, so they could protect him at
all times, something they didnt want to do, but they dare not
refuse. They were to surround him at the back of the column, so that
if their magic didnt work, it was they who took the arrow for their
failure and not him.
Preparations for battle had been made in Picalda, and only about
fifty soldiers were available to ride out with Gryanth. The mystics

had informed him that fifty would be more than enough, so he

almost believed them, and, in the morning, off they went, riding
along the east/west track in a sort of parade formation, nothing
hurried so that the dust raised could not be seen from the distance
of say high up in the valleys. They had to be discreet if they were to
lay a trap later today.
Davias men spotted the Gryanth army approaching well before it
was halfway along the track, and their second plan was put into
operation. They scattered further into the forest, and some of them
took up positions over in the trenches of the Dry Zone, hiding from
sight completely. They would then be behind Gryanths men, the
idea being to trap a trap.
Once again, Katrillion and Davian were to be part of the sniper
Bowmen, picking off those who tried to escape the main battle, and
had taken up positions slightly north of the others, where the trees
were not only taller, but gave a commanding view of both the track
and the first six hundred yards of land into the forest.
Gryanth and his men arrived at the end of the east/west track,
dismounted and scouted around, checking everywhere they could,
but found nothing, so moved into the forest for cover ready to
ambush this very important person or persons who was going to
emerge from the marshes sometime soon.
The horses were taken to the rear of the soldiers positions,
deeper into the forest, so as not to make a sound if they heard other
horses approaching, and then Gryanths men dug in.
The two soldiers at the rear of the rest of them, whose job it was
to look after the horses got quite a shock when they were suddenly
grabbed, captured, gagged, tied to a tree for the moment, and all of
the horses taken away. The whole cavalries horses would be taken
to Haneera.
One by one, as night fell, Gryanths soldiers were taken care of,
not killed, but captured and rendered inoperable. Their fate would
be the same as that of their master, but that would come later. They
would be on centre stage soon enough.
By the next morning, only a handful of Gryanths troops were still
milling around their master and his sleeping, lazy mystics.
Suddenly, a massive cacophony of sound could be heard coming
from the south end of the track. Trumpets blew; voices chanted a
wailing sound of chant, and drums being beaten very hard.
Gryanths remaining men immediately took up their positions right
next to the edge of the forest, ready to act when the command was
given, Gryanth himself coming forward so he could watch the
proceedings.
The parade that was about to pass them however was not some
high-ranking Emperor or even a King with a massive entourage.
It comprised of three large prisoner carts, squashed full of
Gryanths soldiers, and each being pulled by two of his finest horses.
Only one old woman led the whole parade of carts, holding a rope to

the first horse, and another rope from the back of each cart to the
horses following.
Each soldier inside each cage was standing up, tied by his wrists
to the bars that ran across the top of each cage, and they were all
securely gagged.
Also they were completely naked.
Not only had the blond devils taken their swords, shields and their
chainmail, but also their dignity. Gryanth bristled with anger at this
insult.
His men naturally rushed forwards in an effort to free their
colleagues, thinking they had only one old woman to deal with, and
it would even up the manpower numbers, but Katrillion, Davian, and
the other Bowmen were able to pick them off one by one. Those
who were not shot ran back to the forest for cover.
Gryanth was, by now, totally livid, and gave the instruction to his
men to go out again and free his soldiers on the carts, so they could
begin the job of defeating this blond haired vermin. They never
moved. Fear was now in charge.
Gryanth mounted the horse he had kept at his side all night, then
ordered his mystics to form a circle around him and the horse, and
started to move out of the trees and towards the cages, getting to
about twelve to fifteen feet before his mystics were cut down by the
Bowmen. He needed to save some of them for his protection against
the power, so rode back with them to the cover of the forest.
Everything went silent for a short while, and no one seemed to be
in a hurry to move anywhere.
Suddenly Katrillion appeared at the front of the carts, her hair
shining in the sun like gold, her eyes as blue as if reflected by the
summer sky. She walked slowly and commandingly to a position
directly in front of where Gryanth was hiding. She spoke,
Lord Gryanth, we meet at last. I need to have words with you!
Gryanth pulled together his remaining mystics and asked them
for advice. They agreed that to get the power he so desired, he
must meet this Guardian, face to face, as the old legend said so.
Perhaps this was another of the pieces of planted information from
Haneera, who knows?
Gryanth thought for a moment, reluctant to even consider
exposing himself to anyone, let alone this blond witch standing in
front of him.
Katrillion repeated her request, but his time, Gryanth had no
choice as he felt himself being physically lifted from the ground, and
then carried by invisible people who he could not see, then placed
on the ground, with his back to the Dry Zone, and facing Katrillion.
You can do nothing to me! he spat at her indignantly, For I am
guarded by the protection spells of my mystics.
She replied, calmly and quietly,
Shall we see if that is so? and she turned towards the forest.

There were cries of fear from within the woods, as every mystic
suddenly floated out onto the track, coming to rest standing next to
Gryanth.
Katrillion looked straight into the eyes of Gryanth, seeing not only
the blackest of darkness, but also the pit of fear, and it was that fear
she was now going to work on.
Lord Gryanth, we need to talk.

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

will return to where you came from and let me get back to ruling
this land as it should be!
By now, quite a crowd of Davias men had gathered to listen to
this banter between the two. Davian came and stood at the front of
the semicircle of people.
Gryanth raised his arm in the air, a signal for his remaining
soldiers to start to fight, this possibly being a tactic so Gryanth could
slip away unnoticed, but he found he couldnt move at all.
One of the soldiers, sword drawn was making a run on Katrillion,
when Davian spotted him, and ran to intercept. They fought briefly,
and the soldier went down, but so did Davian. He was carried away.
Katrillion turned to Gryanth, her patience now starting to wane
and told him,
You might have remained out of harms way over in your little
castle in the west, and the Power of the Marshes may not have been
invoked had you not triggered the chain of events yourself. It is all of
your doing, and you will now suffer the consequences.
Gryanth looked at Katrillion with a puzzled look then asked,
What was it I was supposed to have done that started this whole
power thing, and why cannot I benefit from it?
Only once in every few generations, a Guardian is picked by the
Marshes themselves, a blond haired and blue eyed girl of innocence,
not to use the power but to guard that it is never used or misused
by others.
What you did was to take and torture the real Guardian selected
by the Marshes, a young girl who could not hate anything, loved
everyone, and loved life. This real Guardian was blessed with the
great power of inner sight, something we all wished we had.
She could never have given you any information about the
Power of the Marshes, because she was not blessed with the power
of hearing or speech, yet she had untold wealth of knowledge inside
her head.
Upon her death, at your hand or your henchmen, the Marshes
themselves had to select a new Guardian, and bestowed upon that
person all that would be needed to put right the massive injustice of
the death of the first.
Had the first Guardian been killed on the East side of Deaton,
you would all now be dead, all of your men, including you. Your
castle protected you as it lies outside of the boundaries of the
power. Then it protected you, now it does not.
You wanted to see the Power of the Marshes, to possess all it can
do, to use the power for your own ends. This cannot be so.
You murdered the First Guardian, my sister Marally, who was
only nine years old, and, as the new Guardian, it is up to me to show
you the error of your ways for eternity.
Gryanth watched in horror as the blue and white mists started to
form around Katrillion, swirling and getting faster and bigger. He
could not move, he could only watch.

By the time the Power collapsed into a wave, shooting across the
Dry Zone, Katrillion had passed out on the ground.
Gryanth, and all of his men were no more. Vanished forever.

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

John Baxter 2012.