Through corridors of wood and bark he walked... and the weeds that were slowly choking the paths of the Forest of the Green Silences drew back and cleared the way. Yarrowvathallion, Second Son of the House of the Silver Rose, Prince of the Sithryn, had come home. To what was left of it at least, he thought. If he walked far enough into the woods he would eventually come to where the City had stood, but he could not stand looking at the vast empty plain where towers had once touched the sky. There was nothing left, nothing but flowers brought from other planes and then left to go to seed when the City had been moved on to yet another. No, what Yarrow wanted to see was here... in the Silences.

A few more minutes brought him to a clearing where white marble framed the Fountain of Mezumiiru, Mistress of the Moon. Here was where the women of the Clan birthed their babes, and here was where the doom of the Clan had been born. Rowan's son, Ian Blackthorn. Yarrow looked down into the pool, then passed his hands lightly over the surface of the water and looked at the picture his lightly whispered cantrip summoned: Ian and his new wife asleep. His heart cried out for vengeance. How could the half human bastard know such happiness, after all he had done to his own elven kin? He should be mourning his lost wife and the missing daughters. Instead, against all odds he'd found a new love in the green-eyed Irish lady he'd married.

This would not do... this would not do at all... Rowan was dead... the sister who had been his other half, and Sorian, her first born full Sithryn son, both dead by Ian's doing. It mattered not that Ian's human father had engineered the act. Besides, Voran Blackthorn had been killed in his own plot. Only the son remained for Yarrow to take his vengeance. And he had done just that, planting enough stories to tempt Ian's first wife further and further away from Camelot, until the "storm" he called up had taken her and the older girl away. The woman had left the two infants behind in a village, and when he'd finally seen them, Yarrow knew he could not kill them. They carried even more elven blood than their father Ian, and he could almost see a resemblance to Rowan in her granddaughters. So he had sent the twins away, to be brought up for a life far away from the courts of Camelot. And a subtle spell had already begun to cause Ian to be tormented with thoughts and doubts.

But it was not enough.

He looked down. There in the grass, could still be seen the place where Ian had lain after drinking from the fountain. Months had passed in Camelot, but in the Green Silences it was but minutes. Yarrow snarled. "Heart's Ease! You destroy your clan, and then use the lore of your people to ease you own suffering. No more!" He took out a dagger, and slashing his left palm, let the blood drip slowly down into the fountain. "T`si im T`si! Blood for blood, I swear this on my clan's honor." The blood splashed onto the vision in the water and a black stain began to form. "No more hearts ease for you Ian, this I promise you... "

Far away, in Camelot, Ian Blackthorn sat up in bed, and in his mind he saw a black ship sailing over a moonlit sea.

Ian Blackthorn 12/98


The Seeking II - A Sister's Gift

Skye sat at the desk, a look of disbelief on her face, she shook her head, her red-gold hair shifting about her shoulders, a lock falling into her face. She impatiently pushed it back and snapped at the younger woman standing there, "Aidan... what mean ye, 'urgent family business'? I cannae, there is a holiday party here this eve. I am the hostess and ye expect me not to go?"

Aidan St. James simply shrugged as she replied in a voice very closely mirroring her sister's, "Skye, ye've known this day would come and now it has. Wi' Da gone, the druid is calling for ye, 'tis my coming of age day." Skye sighed and looked at her sister's face intently, reading the anguish in her leaf-green eyes. She looked at the stack of returned invitations and again felt torn. Finally she stood, resignation on her face. "Aye Aidan, I knew this day would come and I will nae leave ye to it alone. Ian will hae to handle this party". Skye led the younger woman into her bedchamber and prepared a pack of clothing to take on the journey, all the while hoping her husband would understand.

**********

Skye smiled warmly, viewing the lovely girl who was given to her as a sister, her luminous green eyes also taking in the druid princess standing next to her. The druid stepped forward and extended a hand, "Skye, I presume? Ye look exactly as Aidan described ye. Ye've done a wonderful job bringing her to womanhood."

"Nay, Your Highness, I had naught as much as ye believe to do wi' it. Aidan hae always had a mind of her own, as do all we O'Malleys. 'Tis Aidan and Ma who are to be feted this day."

"Nonetheless" the druid smiled, "She names ye as the recipient of her gifts. Skye, ye know she be not completely human, but half druid. 'Tis why she is St. James and the rest of ye O'Malley. And 'tis why, upon the day of her birth she was betrothed to a druid prince, to carry on the line. She has known of this all along and is in agreement. Be ye?" At this, the elder O'Malley nodded. "Also as half druid, she has gifts... gifts which ye hae already seen evidence of, and gifts that upon this day, she can transfer to one she chooses. Aidan hae chosen ye."

"Me? Gifted? Nay, I am but a simple human lady. I hae the knowledge given my by Da and Ma and that be all I need." The beautiful druid laughed and then replied, "Aye, 'tis well and fine, but what of that elven ranger ye married? Would not gifts aid ye in yer marriage? And in raising the bairns ye'll hae together?" At this, the ice blue eyes of the princess locked onto Skye's and posed the question. "Ye can choose to nae accept them, of course, but ye'll nae e'er hae this chance again."

Skye stopped, considering. She had secretly always wanted to at least possess some sort of gift, some magic she could use to aid those around her. Wordlessly she stepped forward, nodded, and lowered her head in supplication. The princess placed a hand on Skye's head, her skin very white against the gleam of copper, and recited an ancient incantation almost as old as time itself. Skye felt warmed with a pure heat and light she had never experienced before, and the sound of rushing blood filled her ears. Just as she felt close to fainting away, the hand was removed, and the druid stepped back.

"I have given you your sister's gift. From this moment forward ye hae the power of Mindspeak. Whenever another gifted one is near, merely form the sentence in your mind, without speaking it aloud, and they shall hear you. Aidan is so gifted, and your link wi' her will be the strongest of all."

Skye chuckled, realizing how surprised her husband would be... if only he could hear her. As that thought formed in her mind, the druid smiled and nodded. "Aye, Ian is so gifted... as is his brother, the dragon. Quite the family ye've married into. Ye'll now be able to speak wi' them both, wi'out ever saying a word aloud. Be careful though, for sometimes, you may nae wish your thoughts heard aloud."

As Skye prepared to leave, thinking the gift over, the princess continued, "You hae also been given the gift of Second Sight. In showing you pictures of future events, it should aid you greatly in a search you will be undertaking soon, and should also keep your family safer than without. But Skye, this gift comes with a condition..." At this the druid stopped, making sure the Irish woman's full attention was upon her.

"Condition?" Skye asked, now quite skeptical.

"Second Sight cannot be used to cause a death, Skye. If that were allowed, all of those Second Sighted would cause chaos, becoming assassins and such. Imagine how easy their distasteful task would be, if they could predict where a target would be, before they themselves even knew. So, the gift is conditioned against such." The druid again paused, looking at Skye intently, more serious than she had been at anytime before on this eventful day. "Should ye use the gift and cause death, not only will ye lose your Second Sight, but your primary sight as well, forever living a life in darkness."

Skye gasped, her mind whirling. The thought flashed through her mind to ask the druid to take these gifts back, but another thought intercepted it, and Skye knew it was too late. She took a deep breath and nodded once. "I hear and understand ye, Your Highness. I will guard my sister's gifts well." The druid smiled gently and placed a hand on Skye's shoulder "I believe ye will, Skye. If anyone can, 'tis ye."

Stacy Reynolds Oosterink 12/98


The Seeking III - The Black Ship

It glides across the water... a black ship sailing upon a moonlit sea. He stands and watches it sail, and even though a part of his mind is screaming its not possible, he starts to run across the silver waves, only able to just barely touch the shadow of the craft before the next swell forces him to slow and fall a step behind. Then one last wave rises up before him, the tall mast of the ship the only thing visible of it as he slides and falls on his back...

Ian sat up slowly in the bed, careful not to disturb Skye as he slipped quietly away to sit at the window casement. By now the dream was an old acquaintance, so he was long past the stage of suddenly sitting bolt upright and waking his wife as well. But tonight, he mused, as he rubbed some frost off the pane to let a single shaft of moonlight fall into the room, tonight was a different matter. For as he and Skye were lying in each other's arms, she whispered to him of hearing a story, told by an elf with hair so fair it at first made her think he was an ancient.

"He was tall, Ian, and haughty, and called that little Renee woman a fool because he said she dressed like one. And when the imp asked him for a story, he told her one about an elven princess and her mortal lover and the half-elven son who killed his mother. I dinnae remember you had told me all about what had happened, and I was so frightened... " He took her into his arms again, and kissed her fears away for a little while, and soon sleep had claimed them both. But now the dream had woken him again.

Ian cleared more frost off the pane, and enough moonlight came through to cast his shadow on the floor. He padded silently over to a chest, wincing slightly when it creaked as he opened it, but a quick glance thrown towards the bed showed Skye was still fast asleep. Ian moved something's aside, and there, on the bottom of the chest, lay a small baby blanket, the only thing left to him of his vanished twin daughters. Picking it up, he moved back to sit on the edge of the window casement once more, and brought it up to his nose and inhaled with a gentle smile. Peach blossoms. Huney had loved natural scents and the children's clothes had always had a slight trace of them, her way, she said, of letting them know she loved them always.

The coverlet was frayed in one corner, and carefully, mindful of what Skye would say if he ruined it, he unraveled a length of thread and wrapped it around one finger. Setting the blanket aside, Ian held his hands out into the silver light streaming through the window. Softly he chanted some words in Sithryn as he gathered his Will. Within his cupped hands, moonlight rose like silver water. As he bent his head to breathe gently upon it, a picture formed upon its surface. A city, tall spires reaching for the sky, built in lines so graceful and mystical they could only be of elven make. And beyond, a deep blue harbor, and at a dock, a black ship.

Ian focused his Will further, this time concentrating on the ship, but a few seconds told him all he needed to know. The girls were no longer aboard. Ian turned his attention back to the city and the skyline once more appeared. As he looked at the western end, the thread around his finger suddenly tightened. He redoubled his attention. He sat like this for several minutes more, then with a few more whispered words opened his hands, the moonlight dripping silently to the floor in glistening strands. All he had been able to tell was that his daughters were somewhere on Isle, in the western quarter of the capital. He sat for a few seconds more, holding the blanket and rubbing it, then walked over to the chest and put it away. He at least knew that the girls were alive, and he had an idea where to go looking for them. It would do for now.

In a white marble fountain filled with clear sparkling water, a shadow grew. The size of a gold coin now, and with flecks of blood red amongst the dark black, it bided its time... and grew... and waited...

Ian Blackthorn 2/99


The Seeking IV - Ambush - Part 1

"I hate this place!"

Ian glanced over his shoulder at Marcus. They'd been on patrol the day after Corwin's wedding. After a brush with some redcaps near the Dark Tower, Ian had decided to bring them all home by the Road. He summoned an opening and the 30 men had all fallen in behind him two abreast, Ian riding a bit ahead to keep them on the right path. He no longer had to sing to keep it stable, an improvement according to Marcus, and he had gradually learned the golden path that stretched along the Road was actually made of strands of many colors. The strand that led to Camelot, for example, was dark green, and the one to Amber a slightly lighter shade, since green seemed to stand for safe places. Red strands, he had found after some cautious investigation, led to danger... and black... well, he didn't want to think about what he had learned about black paths. But in all the time he'd used the Road to transport himself and troops, he'd never once heard Marcus say it made him uneasy. Until now.

"Marcus, is something wrong?"

The lieutenant shook his head and spat on the ground, if it was truly ground. "Don't know. Something doesn't feel right."

Ian shook his head, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his face and began turning his head around. He barely had time to register a startled look on his aide's face when he felt something clang against the bracer on his right wrist, and a shock caused his arm to tingle. A fleeting glimpse of a dagger falling away told him Taralon's bracer had deflected a blade its owner had flung at his eye.

Ian cursed slightly then leaned forward over Horse's neck as he drew his longsword and looked about. They were at a crossroads, red and black threads moving off in either direction. He heard Marcus bark out some orders, then there was an impact. Horse moved backwards, the mists swirled... and the Road and his men were gone. Ian drew rein, steadied Horse, and turned to face the attackers.

Ian Blackthorn 2/99


The Seeking V - Ambush - Part 2

All along the column, riders swung out of their saddles and stretched. Corporal Timmons took a strip of dried meat out his saddlebag, cut off a piece and handed the strip to Marcus. Beside them, a young soldier named Manders looked about him nervously. "What are we going to do? Why are we waiting?" Timmons looked at the boy. "You want to be the one to tell the Lady we rode off and left him right away?"

Manders gulped and shook his head. "N-no! But what if he doesn't come back?"

"Then," Timmons drawled as the other veterans guffawed," we eat the horses."

Ian turned Horse and faced his attackers. Ranged against him were two riders of a sort he had never seen before. They were short, swarthy men, wearing helmets with a single spike on the top and carrying spiked shields in one hand, small curved blades in the other. Slung over their backs were small curved bows, and each sat astride shaggy ponies. While Ian was looking at them his opponents looked back. A widening of eyes told him that they might have been as surprised by his appearance as he was by theirs, perhaps by his size and the size of Horse. Behind them was a cave opening in an otherwise sheer rock wall, and, judging by the updraft that lifted Ian's cloak a few inches, behind him was nothing at all.

"Not good, not good at all!" he thought as one made a move for his bow. With a muffled curse he urged Horse into movement. The big gray bolted the few feet towards the ambushers, then as Ian applied pressure with his knees, he swerved to the side. The half-elf swept his blade down on the fighter reaching for the bow, opening a cut along the forehead and then swept it back towards the other rider.

Meanwhile, Horse lashed out with his bared teeth, nipping at the smaller horse's neck. There was the sound of a horse screaming in pain and the wounded rider fought for control as his mount bucked. The second rider ducked under Ian's blade and sliced at his side, striking the chain mail shirt Ian chose that day and driving some loose rings into Ian's side. The big man swore, steered Horse to the side with his knees again, and traded several blows with his smaller opponent.

Finally, he rose up in his stirrups and took a hard overhand swing. The curved blade flashed up to meet the longsword, but this time it broke with a loud metallic snap and Ian's sword split the man's face open. A quick backhand slash took the brigand in the throat and he slid lifelessly from the saddle. Yet there was still the first man to account for... and his bow. Turning quickly, Ian saw the other had steadied his horse and drawn his bow, but as he sighted along the shaft to shoot, a dark shadow fell across them all.

From behind, swooping low as it flew against a background of snow covered peaks, came the biggest damn bird Ian had ever seen. The other man had time only to utter a guttural curse as horse and rider were seized by talons bigger than both of them. A thunderous beat of wings, a loud shriek, and all were gone, except for a single black feather longer than Ian's longsword. He gave a long breath, then quickly slid down to examine the fallen man. A quick search of the man's purse yielded up some strange coins, at least none that Ian recognized. He sat back on his heels for a second. He had to hurry, no telling how long before the giant bird would return for desert.

Then as he moved the deadman's cloak aside, a slight clinking sound caught his attention. Something was sewn in the hem. He tore the cloak open and a small silver coin fell into his hand. On one side was a silver rose, a yarrow tree on the other. It was a Sithryn house token, a coin traditionally given to House retainers as proof of their employ. And this one belonged to his uncle, Yarrow. He slipped the housetoken into his own purse, set his foot into his stirrup and mounted. As he did, a raucous cry behind him told Ian the raptor was returning for more prey, so he rode a few feet into the cave, raised his hands, and called forth the Road. Just as he stepped into the mist, the surviving pony bolted past him, and then they were both gone from the cliff.

Several hours had passed on the Road, and Timmon's jest to Manders began to look like it might come true. A good natured debate over whether spitting on the ground here would produce imps was cut short when the patrol heard the damn silver bells. Rhiannon's bells, Blackthorn had warned them, and never to be sought out if they wished to return to their loved ones. "Aye, Captain... but what if SHE seeks us?" Marcus had muttered. Then he and the rest all heard the sound of a horse running full out. They barely had time to make ready their weapons when a small shaggy horse burst out of the mist, knocked a few men aside, and just as quickly vanished in the opposite direction.

And then, out from the direction the panicked horse had run, rode Captain Blackthorn. Marcus knew he'd not have to face Lady Skye with bad news this eve. Blackthorn sat, bare blade resting across that big gray brute he called a horse's neck, and favored Marcus with a slight grin.

"Well, Lieutenant, all the horses accounted for?"

"Aye Captain! And," he said as he and the others mounted up, "so are all the young `uns." A ripple of laughter ran down the line as Manders blushed. Blackthorn nodded, turned his horse, and the patrol fell in behind as he led them away for home.

Marcus spat on the ground, imps or no. "I still hate this place."

Ian Blackthorn 2/99


The Seeking VI - Mezumiiru

This is the tale the Sithryn tell:

In the days of the beginning, before the Children of the Flame were born, there were the Sithryn, and there were their gods, whom they called Norns. These were not the Norns of the Vikings, but rather fair and tall, and as far above the Sithryn as the Sithryn are above the humans.

Now, there was a Sithryn maid named Mezumiiru, a daughter of the House of Oak, and one day her eyes chanced to fall on the Norn who was the Sun. She sat and sat in her garden, watching him stride across the sky, and at night, all she could think about was him. Everyday she watched, and every night she dreamed. And then one night, as she slept, she dreamt the Sun came to her, and held her, and made love to her, and in her dream she cried tears of joy.

The next morning she woke and found it had not been a dream, and soon thereafter she bore the Sun a child, and from this child came the House of the Sun, who ruled the Sithryn. And for many years did the Sun visit Mezumiiru in the night when the world did sleep, and she bore him seven more children, all founders of the other seven great Houses of the Sithryn. But after the last child was born, there were no more, and as is the way of things, the children all grew and left to live their own lives and loves. And even worse, the Sun god came to her bed no more.

Mezumiiru wept.

She wept night and day. She could not stop. At last she went out into her garden, and sitting on a rock in its midst, she wept until her tears formed first a rill, and then a brook, and then finally a stream. The Sithryn claim the skies themselves were so moved by the grief of Mezumiiru that they too began to cry, and did not stop. Now the stream became a river, and the Sithryn and the rest of the Norns were troubled. At last she stopped, and the Sun, who had been moved by her grief, made her his wife, and took her up into the sky. She became the Moon, and they chase each other across the heavens, meeting in each other's arms at dusk and dawn.

Now the river in time once more became a stream, and the Sithryn called it Hearts Ease, and the children of Mezumiiru did build a marble pond into which it runs but never overflows. It is called the Pool of Mezumiiru, and the women of the Sithryn birth all their children beside it. The waters are said to have powers to ease grief and suffering, and the clans all revere it, for the magic it was born of is the most powerful of all.

... from THE BOOK OF GREEN SILENCES

Ian Blackthorn 2/99


The Seeking VII - Failure

Meldir was a practical man. That was why he groveled on the dirt floor of the tent as the god Yar`voth entered and stopped. All the headman could see of the tall divinity was, as usual, the boots. Meldir did not speculate on why a god wore boots. It was not his job. His job was to keep himself alive. That was something he could understand. He hoped the god would not be TOO angry at his news...

"Forgive me, oh great one! The men we sent to kill the evil Black One on the Path of the Gods has failed. They did not return. Only the shaman sent to open the gate, and one pony."

There was a moment of silence that was then broken by a glass of wine being poured. Meldir chanced a glance at great Yar`voth. The god reclined on a chair, his face as cold and devoid of emotion as the statues in the ruins of Meldir's homeland. The nomad hurried his report. "The shaman did not go with them. Only the pony returned, wounded by some beast. The spoor on the saddle tasted like bird--"

"The spoor... tasted... " The god's face now turned paler in... anger? Yes, Meldir thought, definitely in anger. The god was angry. It was the bird spoor. Birds must be sacred to him, and the shaman had committed an offense to the god.

"I will punish the defiler, milord."

"NO! Not here! There is to be no blood shed here!"

Meldir nodded, banging his head on the dirt floor and made his way crawling backwards out of the tent, pondering the god's order.

Yarrowvathallion sank back into his chair, fighting the wave of nausea. Of all the human tools to choose from, he had picked these! He had found them lost in a blizzard on a plane the Sithryn had ruled a thousand years before, and brought them here to the plain at the heart of the Green Silences. Fierce and loyal, and yet... he shuddered as he remembered Meldir's words. After a few moments, the Sithryn lord had a chance to reflect on the night's work in the Great Hall of Camelot. It had elicited the response he had expected. "Good! Let them be alert, guard the hall and the children. I already have what I want" He drank his wine, and then went off into the night.

Meldir thought long and hard into the night on the words of the god Yar`voth, and had a revelation in the hours before dawn. Shortly thereafter, the offending shaman was staked out so that the birds could feast upon the flesh of the desecrator. The execution took place three miles outside of the Forest of Green Silences.

For Meldir was, after all, a practical man.

Ian Blackthorn 2/99


The Seeking VIII - Quentayvathallion

... and the Sithryn lived in peace for many years.

Quentayvathallion was Lord of the House of the Silver Rose at that time, and the Sithryn flourished, their towers stretching into the sky to try to touch their mother Mezumiiru the Moon, and they were proud and strong.

One bright morning Quentayvathallion and his two sons rode by chance by the sea. Looking out to sea where something flashed on the waters, the Sithryn Lord asked his sons to tell him what each saw there.

The eldest looked out at the foam with wonder, then smiled and said, "It is the Children of the Sea, coming to dance upon the shore with the Clans of the Sithryn."

Quentayvathallion shook his head grimly. "No, it is not."

The younger son looked out at the light, and then turned to his father. "It is the Children of the Stars fallen to earth." But Quentayvathallion shook his head again, and his sons looked at him in sudden dread.

"Then tell us what you see, father!"

"I see the sunlight flashing on the swords and shields of warriors in great ships. I see a fire come against the Sithryn, and we must fight for what is ours."

Then he took the great horn of his House, and blew three times, and the hosts of the Sithryn assembled. And the tides ran red with the blood of the invaders, and the shore with the blood of the Sithryn. But the ships kept coming, and the warriors spread across the lands of the Sithryn like a wildfire, leaving naught but ashes in its wake.

And thus came the humans... the Children of the Flame.

Ian Blackthorn 2/99