The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom V

Morning of the 5th day, an abandoned hut in the mountains

Zoltan wakes you up with herbal tea and a thin mushroom soup with the last of the meat. “We'll have enough for the rest of the day, after that ...” He smiles “Maybe it's a good thing that we have to make room for the delicacies of the Feast.” When you leave the hut before dawn Sivka - almost invisible in the thick fog - greets you with a friendly snort. Once or twice she pulls at the reins when Zoltan would have lead you astray and after a couple of hours you find the path to the overhang where you spend your first night. In the course of the morning the fog thickens. Zoltan urges you to touch the rock lest you might step into the abyss and as if to illustrate the consequences of falling a large moth the size of a bird of prey and with skulls on its wings silently glides alongside the path and disappears into the fog. In the afternoon you reach the plateau but you can't see past your outstretched arms.

A light wind thins out the fog as you leave the plateau. Ser Perilake is leading Sivka down a steep and narrow trail towards the scree slope. The old mare paws the ground. Small lose rocks covered in snow tumble down the slope and cause a small rock slide. She turns her head and looks at the Gilded Knight wearing a dead man's armour as if to say: Be careful.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

"Sivka is wise to hesitate." Milos narrows his eyes as he contemplates the treacherous slope. He looks for signs of any faint, packed-down path across where others have safely tread before,or patches of scree covered in lichen which may be more stable to walk upon.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

“I wish Colmán were here…” whispers the Dove Knight. Then, the memory of his dear mountain steed pushes him to focus on the ground beneath his feet. “What would Colmán do? Where would he step?” He scans the ground and tries to move as if he were led by his own sure footed horse.

A treacherous scree slope

Referee

Sir Milos points out hoofmarks on the rocks to the Dove Knight, the spoor of mountain goats who traversed the ground before and you slowly cross the slope following their steps. It is getting dark when you find a frozen lake and a cave in the cliffs surrounding it within which sits an old fireplace that hasn't been used in years, ashes upon older ashes and two columns flanking a stone slab in the cave wall. There are elfin runes and white ravens etched into the stone.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"Another night in these frozen hills." Perilake mutters. "Come Zoltan, whilst the others bring this fireplace back to life, we will see if we can find something to cook. You remember fishing in the frozen lakes of Svenrik? This time neither of us shall fall in." Zoltan smiles wryly at the jest, although he cannot help but think that in Svenrik there was a hall with furs and fires waiting for them...

As the others tend to the cave, the former squire and his master carefully traverse the cliff down to the frozen lake. The young knight leads, carving a hole in the ice with measured precision, in this practice always more the master than his mentor. There is little talk to be heard by any, but much still is said in the silence of loyalty, of gratitude, and of love.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

As they eat the once-Gilded Knight's catch before a ruby fire, Anastaz speaks abruptly. "In Jezsik, during harvest, the leaves change. All these great trees turn auburn and then lose their leaves. It's as if the wind becomes red, and the ground crinkles under your feet. The same happens in Barowia, more or less, but in my homeland, the world seems to glow. I don't know I've seen anything so beautiful since I left."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos stares into the fire with a wistful smile as he listens to the Salt Knight's story. For a moment it appears as if the red tones of his hair were returning. Perhaps it is a trick of the firelight or perhaps something deeper, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake feeds Sivka some of the last of the dried grains in their provisions, and carefully brushes the strange steed's hair. He leans in close, and whispers to the horse. "Tell me of Tizra, and the King. Tell me of the Herald, and of my son."

Referee

You find the mare nibbling moss from stones and her ears are twitching when you whisper into them. She whinnies and it sounds like bitter laughter. “My master has sent many spies into the Halls of the Elf and none returned. I am very sorry but I know nothing about your son” She snorts a sigh. “All that the King knows he learned from prisoners who may have been spies themselves” Then she leans in and nickers softly, her hot breath on your face. “He believes that Coredis has woven a wall of spells around his palace and that his right hand Seneschal Ashling is a powerful wizard. Tizra may have fallen out of favour but who knows?” She whickers doubtfully. "My master has sent me because he places his trust in you ... and in me. But I am not the warhorse anymore he once rode into battle."

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

"You still serve well." He murmurs. "Would there be some place where my brethren may find steeds? Wild and untamed, or perhaps sold in good faith."

Referee

“The wild Rusalki have horses and might be willing to sell them … but they are wicked - none more so than Stribog - and they will drive a hard bargain!”

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Leaving the Salt Knight to tend to the fire, the Dove Knight picks up a burning branch and walks toward the stone slab. He moves the flame near the runes and examines them carefully.

Referee

The runes have been carved into the stone and filled with silver and the ravens seem to stir in the flickering flame. There is a draft from the seams where the slab touches the columns and you are convinced it can be moved.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Heldris puts the burning branch down and carefully pushes the slab, paying attention to its weight.

Referee

There is a piercing screech when you push on one side of the slab and it starts to move slowly on a central pivot.

A Knight's Rest

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

As the slab moves to the side, it reveals a knight’s tomb. An elfin skeletal figure lies down, donned in crimson armour. The carving on the slab makes sense now to Heldris, as he observes the knight’s right hand holding a majestic raven over their heart, while their left hand holds a strange weapon to their side. The bird has pearl eyes and its feathers are dark as a winter night. It seems untouched by decay, as if in a profound dream while waiting for its next master. The Dove Knight mumbles a prayer to the Spirit of the Lake, even if their ear must be far away, and moves the slab back to cover the knight’s rest. The stone seems ten times heavier now, as if something were calling for air from within the tomb. Heldris strengthens his grip and gives one last push, covering the sleeping knight once more.

Referee

They sit quiet around the campfire for a while, everyone in his own thoughts and one after the other they wrap themselves into their bedrolls until only The Fox Knight remains to stand guard over his brothers.

A dream

Sir Perilake, your dream is a jumble of broken images: Floating candles on a lake, Lady Inga in your embrace. Avert with a crown, advised by Zoltan, his Steward. The Black Stone Hunter climbing the facade of a tower. The head of Tizra lies bleeding on the stone floor. Then you kneel before the elder tree you planted an age ago, its branches barren, and frost covering the boulder its roots embrace. The broken winter sun is reflected in a thousand pieces off a throne of ice that sits under the tree. You hear a voice brittle with age but with a fiery determination whispering in your ear while the image fades: “My warhorse will guide you, my servant will guard you. Be my eyes among my enemies, serve me and your son will be free.”