The Black Spear
Awakened by the noise from the manor house, Myle parts from his new found lover with a lock of her hair as a parting gift; a gesture that would have been tender and romantic, if only she had willingly consented to have her hair removed.
Meanwhile Daffyd, closely followed by Issa and Rand, charged across the darkened horse fields after the trial left by the abductors. Rand is soon left behind by his more fleet footed (and less blind) companions so heads back to round up horses and supplies. He makes little progress before the rest of Sir Gwinis’ household set the hounds on him thinking him an enemy in the darkness! Nimbly sidestepping the slashing fangs of the hunting hounds, he directs the mounted Sir Gwinis after Issa and Daffyd.
The two men upfront ran headlong into an ambush! Two lightly armed spear men leap out of the darkness at them, but Issa and Daffyd quickly make short work of them. As they clean up the resulting mess, they quickly realise these are no ordinary bandits, nor even rogue knights, but Saxons! How on earth these sea fiends had found their way to the heart of Rydychan, arguably the heart of Logres, was hard to fathom.
Sir Gwinis and the rest of the men (including Rand leading a string of mounts and their equipment) catch up the rest of the troop. Myles is desperately boasting of his sexual prowess but is cut short by the curt instruction from Petyr to keep quiet and stay focused until Sir Brychan is safe.
Sir Gwinis was not impressed to learn that Saxons were on his land, it now seeming more was afoot than an affront to his hospitality. Once again Myles brags of his night time activities, and once again Petyr advises him to keep his mind on his work until Sir Brychan is safe.
Pushing onwards the group began to make up ground on the abductors of Sir Brychan, until after several hours of travel, they encounter the uncanny sight of an enormous spear thrust point first into the ground. Its black gleaming haft if is of no wood known to the men of Chalke. The blade itself was more akin to a sword than a spear point, but with a leaf like blade ideal for a hunting spear. The raven feathers decorating it did nothing to reduce the Unseelie feel of the clearing. Nervously stepping forward a voice rings out in the darkness.
“Your Master has committed sins against us, and on the day of the third sunrise he will pay for his crimes against clan Fenrisget”
Their rage rising, and perhaps hoping to goad the enemy into making a mistake, Sir Brychans loyal honour guard begin to chant, they know full well who this enemy is now, and they know full well the name that sparks the embers of unreasoning terror in their hearts…
“wolfsbane, wolfsbane, Wolfsbane, Wolfsbane, WOLFSBANE WOLFSBANE WOLFSBANE!!”
Knowing their enemy is nearby the men of Salisbury set off in pursuit, whilst Sir Gwinis rides off to raise the men of the hundred. Riding hard the mounted troop begin at last to force the hand of the abductors.
Never one to pick his time well Myles boasting of his sexual prowess grates the nerves of the frantic Petyr past the point of breaking. The blow was pulled, and Myle even had the reflexes to partially deflect the butt end of Petyrs spear; but Petyr is a mountain of a man, and his techniques with a spear flawless. The whole party wince at the meaty thud, and even Petyr seems taken aback at what he has just done. Gasping like a landed fish Myle sinks to the ground, his bones unbroken but badly beaten.
Taking the minimum of time to bind Myles bruises, headlong they charge as the sun rises, and quickly find themselves in yet another ambush.
Black clad but lightly armed the Saxons are quickly put to sword, but the badly injured Myle needed rescuing by the more battle hardened members of the troop. As Adeon tends to the scrapes and scratches of the party, and the unconscious Myle is loaded onto a travois, and Daffyd searches the bodies. They are uniformly clad in black, and carry little to identify them, but carved into the back of each is a weird symbol, combining a wolfs head and a raven… who are these new comers? They are clearly a new breed of Fenrisget. Distracted by the chatter about the raven wolves, Adeon fails to pay attention to the first aid he is administering and drives his dagger clear through to the bone of Rands hand! Badly wounded the seasoned campaigner curses out the hapless soldier; but realises he must withdraw from the battle till he can hold his axe again.
Rand and Myle head off back to the manor of Sir Gwinis in the hopes of a Chirgeon, and the rest of the men at arms ride onwards to the aid of Sir Brychan, none of them voicing their concern that the first sunrise spoken of is now well passed…