Branishor, the throneroom, the western mountains. All were finally secured. I returned to the guildhall and immediately fell into a deep sleep. And once again I stood before that foul being, that corrupted caricature of my lady as Ellyana struggled in its grip ...

I rolled forward, slashing at the loathsome creature's legs once, and once again as I slithered beneath and past the towering being, hoping to cause enough harm to negate the advantage of size, but to no avail. As it twisted to avoid my blades the thunder roared and a deluge of rainwater fell around me. Ellyana was still fighting against its grasp with hands and feet, trying to squirm out of the grasp that held her. Its free hand lashed out toward me in time with a brilliant sheet of lightning that seemed to split dark roiling clouds asunder and I rolled again, collecting a couple of scrapes as I hit the handrail supports. I clambered to my feet, possibilities and tactics flashing through my mind.
The storm lessened somewhat as the creature stood still, holding Ellyana aloft. A curious twin-toned voice spoke - deep tones coming from afar seeming to ride on the wind, and mixed in with it, Ellyana's voice.
' This - this is what it all comes to. Hopes and dreams, plans and desires - all fade and die. All meet death's corruption and disappear. Or reform as I have done, though dark and different.' It was as if my lady was under some compulsion to speak the words in cadence with the foul being that held her, now reaching out with its other hand to twist and break, to shatter bone, to rend apart the steel and extinguish the fire. She struggled, and at that moment her own voice came to me through the wind and rain as if for a moment she'd been able to break free of what controlled her words. ' Pallas!! ... Oh, please ...' She stiffened as if once more captured and controlled and again the twin-toned voice spoke.
'So. You're the one. The rogue. I sense you in her mind, in her heart. Maybe I should tear them from her. To prove that all comes to naught.' And its hands fastened around her.
Watch, and learn. Perceive, and understand. As the creature spoke I'd been studying it as size changed, as substance seemed to ebb and flow. And I realised the link between it and the destructive force of nature. It seemed to grow, become more solid, when lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Or perhaps it was the other way about and it was the creature's growth that caused the storm to increase in ferocity. I jumped forward, aiming a flurry of blows at the being's legs and then the arm as it lashed out to strike me down. As it moved and struck out, again lightning flashed and sheets of rain hammered at me. My blades struck a few times but to no avail. The creature flinched slightly to be sure, but that seemed a reaction and not a sign I'd been able to hurt it at all.
I struck out again and again, hoping to at least unsettle the creature to the extent it would let go of Ellyana, but it simply fended me off with its free hand, still holding her high above me. The twin-tone voice rolled around me, mocking my futile efforts, and once in a while as Ellyana struggled again I would hear her voice - pleading, encouraging. And then that distant voice intermingled with my lady's spoke once more, a tone of finality carrying on the wind. 'Enough. This is over.' The creature started to wrap both hands around Ellyana, to finish her. And then her own voice as her shoulders slumped, a look of regret on her face mirroring her tone 'Pallas ... save yourself ...'
I'd not do that, never leave her. Not for that dark creature to crush her body and take her life. At the creatures last words the wind had howled, thrashing the sea into great waves that rolled around the shipwreck. Ocean spray blew across the deck and I saw the creature flinch. And at last I understood. It had first appeared near the clear fresh water at the hall, and again now its power controlled the rain. But the ocean brine ... that was a different matter. I watched a wave roll in and as it broke against the shattered hull I reached over the side, soaking my arm and the blade in my hand with the sea's saltwater. Continuing the sweep through the water I raised my arm and hurled the blade at the creature before me. It struck just below the throat.
There was a bellow of pain intermingled with a crash of thunder, and a wailing scream carried on lashing rain. A flash of lightning revealed the creature raise its head and let out a tremendous roar as foul ooze ran from the wound and a cloud of darkness emerged from the gash, curling around and clinging to the source. Ellyana clawed at the wound, trying to open it wider. My blade had gone, passing into the creature before me, but now I had the answer. I didn't need one. The water of the ocean, that was the weapon I could use to vanquish the foul copy of my lady. I've heard say that long ages past we all lived in the sea, though I can't imagine how that could be. And certainly salt water has some property to aid in healing. Maybe the sea, despite its sometimes wild appearance and sheer force, is a kindly element and gives gifts to aid us. But time enough later for such thoughts. I grabbed anything loose that was nearby - lengths of wood, pieces of chain - anything I could seize, soak in the waves as they rose against the side of the shipwreck, and throw at the towering creature. And each time something hit, the being roared and flinched away as another wound opened up.
But only small wounds. And those small wounds would ooze then close up. The first wound was still open and Ellyana was still tearing at the edges but I needed some way to inflict greater, more prolonged damage. At such moments thoughts can flash into your mind, appearing almost instantaneously and near-complete. The creature's height was changing, it would shrink when wounded then grow again as the gashes closed up. I gathered up a dozen or so pieces of wood, soaked and threw them, and the creature again diminished as a number of wounds left oozing gashes on it. As it shrank I knew I could get closer ... I ripped off my cloak, soaked it in seawater and ran straight at the thing. Its reach was less now, and I could get close enough to jump, grab a shoulder with one hand and force myself up. I wrapped my sea-soaked cloak around the creature's face just before it brushed me away, sending me crashing to the deck and collecting a few more grazes and gashes on the way.
There was a hideous scream, almost drowned in crashing thunder. Ooze spattered around my cloak as the creature clawed at it in an attempt to loosen it, but the saturated cloth did as much damage to the hand as it was doing to the head and face. It threw its head back and roared, raising both arms and setting Ellyana swinging in its grip. For a moment I hoped that this time I'd killed the foul being as it stood screaming, silhoutted in sheets of flickering lightning. I waited for a collapse or to see it crumple. But instead it expanded to twice again its former size, then shrank again. As it shrank, it faded. Through sheet after sheet of lightning I saw it shrink and fade. In between crashes of thunder I heard a scream and the sound of something striking wood ... and then it was gone. Once again it had escaped the retribution I had planned.
I clambered to my feet - near blinded by lightning, almost deafened by thunder. I looked around the deck, and as I did so panic rose within me ...
Where was Ellyana?

Once again my rest was disurbed. I was dragged from that dream, that other reality, to once more face evil in the lands. But all the while, thoughts of that withered corrupted sylvan - my own personal demon - gnawed away at me.

I've spent time farming down in the tombs of N'Rolav while Ellyana sleeps off the last traces of some slight fever. As I fought my way through the twisting gloomy passages, despatching the foul wretches that infest the place, images came to my mind of the tombs as they might have been before the halls were darkened and innumerable skittering creatures found their way in. And I couldn't help but wonder how the tombs and sepulchres would have looked when first constructed.
I made my way back to the guildhall after many marcs of chasing down the wretches, exhausted after slaughtering hundreds if not thousands of them - though as I made my way out it sounded as if there were as many there as when I started.
After tending to Ellyana I fell into a deep sleep. As I did so there must have still been in my mind thoughts of how things were, and are, and could have been ...

Ellyana laughed and played on that old shipwreck lodged on the eastern coast of Kilican. My sleeping self watched as the dying light of the 'rifter reflected from her emerald eyes, highlighted the matching colour of her dress, and sparkled off waves breaking gently around the wreck and onto the shoreline. She'd slipped off her footwear and was running and dancing along the handrails that still stood upright around the deck of the battered ship. I hoped she'd keep her footing - though as a disembodied spectator I'd not be able to help should she fall. The helpless feeling gnawed away at me as I watched her at play.
A light ran began to fall, and my sleeping self felt concern as I noticed the handrails become slick with rainwater. Ellyana too noticed the rails become slippery, and she jumped down onto the deck, dancing in the rain as she so loves to do. The rain fell harder and storm clouds gathered. A cold wind rose, lashing the gentle waves into foaming whitetops which crashed against the shore. A flash of lightning obscured my view of the scene, and Ellyana must also have been blinded for a moment.
Sight cleared and a chilling scene unravelled before my sleeping eyes. The withered caricature of Ellyana materialised on the deck, arms reaching out for her. Ellyana, the Sylvan one, owes her strength to the benign force of the beautiful side of nature:that awful withered other sylvan takes its power from the more destuctive elements. As it appeared the wind howled stronger, lightning crackled and thunder rolled. Through streaming torrents of rain it grasped Ellyana, its hands clasped around her neck, lifting her into the air as it grew to thrice her height.
The loathsome creature looked around, as if it sensed the presence of another - could it have known that although sleeping and incorporeal I watched as it appeared? And it spoke, or rather, issued a challenge 'Who would save this one? Who would stand for her whatever the cost - who cares for her above all others?'
The voice was strange, words mixing together with the howl of wind. And oddly enough also mixed in was another sound, another howl - the howl of a wolf which quickly dissipated into a whimper of fear and panic before fading into impotent silence.
I looked at the twisted thing that held Ellyana through sleeping eyes - and as it looked back at me I felt some force tugging at my body which slept in some corner of the lands. There was a sensation of stirring, of movement through the air, and a sudden jolt as I crashed onto the deck of the shipwreck. Landing in a crouch, I reached for weapons as Ellyana twisted in the evil creature's grasp, punching, clawing, kicking - all to no avail. Her voice rose, cutting through the wind's howl 'Put me down you ... let go ... someone ... anyone ... L ... Pallas!!' She called my name louder, then as her head twisted she saw me rising to my feet, and her voice softened somewhat ' ... Pallas ...'
I'll never forget the look in her eyes, the expression on her face. Even in the extremity of such mortal peril still she seemed to have total trust, absolute faith, that I could find a way to save her.
I'm no great hero, not gifted with more ability than others in the lands we call home. Though it's been said that I tend to notice things, details that perhaps aid me in using my wits as well as my weapons when the situation demands. And I bent what abilities I might have to two tasks in hand. To destroy the foul creature which held my lady in its clutches, and to save Ellyana. I'd not see her bones splintered, her neck twisted and snapped, not again.

At that moment the voice of the Crier echoed across the lands, waking me from sleep. I rose and set off to answer the call of the Iron Misstress, the duty to which we all respond, to protect these lands we call home.

The 'rifter flies less high in the sky above, and the air about us feels colder. Marcs pass, and seasons follow each other as ever, in the pattern ordered by the gods who watch over us. Winds blow leaves from the trees, leaves which have turned from green to shades of brown and gold, red and yellow.

Yet there is much to be grateful for, whatever season we find ourselves in. Each has its own beauty, its own attractions. And through all the seasons, all the marcs, we watch over and defend the lands.

And at this time excitement stirs, and plans are laid. Parties, contests, all manner of festivities will soon appear, all for the appreciation and enjoyment of revellers. A chance to meet with friends old and new, to take ease, to step back for a while from the defences. A time to remember that there is more to our lives than labour and combat, that our senses should sometimes have the chance to perceive more than the smell of blood and the screams of the dying. The words pass across the lands - in quiet tones, or accompanied with shouts of glee.

Fall Festival approaches.