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Elodi rested her hand on the cool stone, drawing comfort from the thickness of the wall. She tried to ease the tension in her shoulders, but the Archon’s confidence troubled her. Not more than a league from where she stood, an immense force mustered with the sole aim to enslave the good people of the Five Realms. Could the Archon and his armies break through and defeat them? Or would opening the gate hasten their doom? She looked out of her window to the forest. The moon brushed the treetops with a silver coating, but if sunlight failed to penetrate the thick canopy, the mere light of the moon would not persuade Foranfae to give up her secrets.

Elodi sat on the ledge and leaned back against the cool wall. If an ancient power existed amongst the trees of Foranfae, they needed it now. Surely, all their lands would fall in a matter of months, if not weeks, should the enemy overwhelm Archonholm. The lucky would die in the onslaught, leaving the unfortunate survivors to suffer a life of thralldom at the cruel hands of the Golesh. Her stomach knotted. And what of her? She forced down the panic rising in her throat and stroked the stone of the ledge. She had to be strong for the people of Harlyn. The magnificent, yet aging walls of Calerdorn would buy them little time to flee against a determined attack. Even if they could set sail, would they find shores unknown on an unpredictable and unforgiving sea? Elodi closed her eyes and imagined the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks far beneath her room in the walls of Calerdorn. She shuddered. As the ruler of Harlyn, Elodi’s foes would have devised an unpleasant, drawn-out end for her. The seas may be treacherous, but she would sooner take her chances and risk the currents dragging her to their depths, than allow the enemy to take her alive.

The tap at the door woke Elodi. She had not been aware she had dozed, but it had been a long day and she must have curled up on the stone sill and let sleep take her. She rose and went to the door. ‘Who is it?’

Her aide spoke. ‘Lord Broon is here to see you, ma’am.’

She buttoned her gown and opened the door. The man stood by Bardon. ‘Ma'am. The lord assured me you would see him at this hour.’

‘Yes, by all means.’ Elodi stepped aside. ‘Please, do come in, Lord Broon.’ She turned to her aide. ‘Thank you, and, please can you ensure we are not disturbed.’ He bowed and closed the door.

Bardon’s eyebrows rose. ‘I see the Archon gave you one of the finer rooms. Perhaps he is keen to impress.’

‘It is somewhat luxurious compared to home, but I can’t think why the Archon would want to impress me.’

‘Oh, he has his ways. He never won your father over fully, so I suspect he’s keen to gain your support.’

Elodi ushered him to a chair by the window. ‘Would you care for a bite to eat, or something to drink? I could have my maid prepare us a late supper.’

‘Wine will suffice, thank you. I’ve eaten too much today.’ He patted his stomach. ‘Not used to the portions here, I've become accustomed to the rations of Keld.’

‘I noticed there appears to be no shortage of food and drink in the south.’ She poured two glasses of red wine and sat opposite. ‘Have you had time to consider the Archon’s strategy?’

Bardon gazed into the dark liquid in his glass. ‘I agree with him on one matter.’ He took a sip and rolled it around his mouth before swallowing. ‘I doubt the Golesh will expect to see our ships sailing up the bay at Umnavarek, but whether it will work is entirely a different matter.’ He met Elodi’s gaze. ‘How about you?’

She swirled the wine in her glass. ‘Father taught me about tactics and strategy, and of course I have Wendel and Captain Aldorman to assist with the daily skirmishes involving Harlyn’s reserves, but an invasion fleet is way beyond my experience, and Wendel’s for that matter. But my primary concern is the opening of the gate. For centuries it has kept them out, and despite what the Archon says of their weapons, I’d rather we placed our faith in its strength and keep it shut fast.’

Bardon drained his glass. ‘It does seem a high-risk strategy with too many critical components. Should the ships fail to reach their destination, or the expeditionary force not win through to Elmarand, or even if they succeed, can they capture and then hold the city?’ He stood and walked to the window. ‘And, as you say, is the Archon wise to open the gate? What if these seeds of doubt he promises to sow, cannot find fertile soil amongst the Golesh?’

Elodi nodded. ‘And what if they choose not to send numbers south to retake Elmarand? Do they value the old capital? It could be a burned-out ruin for all we know.’

Bardon’s shoulders dropped. ‘Too many assumptions for my liking. If the Archon opens the gate and is confronted by a full-strength enemy, what chances do we have of keeping them out if a third of our force, the elites at that, are stranded in the south?’ He rested his hand against the wall and turned back to Elodi. ‘What strength do you command in Harlyn?’

Elodi stood and went to his side. ‘Just shy of two thousand, but barely five hundred of those could be described as soldiers. The rest are mostly farmers or from the trades.’

‘And how long to muster the full reserve?’

‘About a week. The beacons can send the call in an hour, but those in the south of the realm can take days on foot. But’ — her hand went to her mouth — ‘the command brings them to Calerdorn to be allocated to the borders. That’s where the threat traditionally manifests. But if we have to defend the south, we’ll need a new signal.’

‘It’s the same for Broon. We may have a larger army, but again, they’re ready to head north. If the Archon can’t hold the assault at the gate, and then loses the bridge, the enemy will simply split its force, strike up either side of the Kolossos, then conquer each of us at will. Alone we are not strong enough to defend, but if we join forces with Kernlow and Galabrant and send our forces south to confront the Golesh, we leave the north open.’ He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. ‘We find ourselves in a difficult position.’

Elodi took a deep breath. ‘One matter still puzzles me, something the Archon has failed to mention.’

Bardon opened his eyes. ‘Yes, I too noticed. Am I to assume you refer to who leads the Golesh?’

She nodded. ‘He talks of the hordes and their unruly nature, but if he believes they pose such a threat, surely they have a leader to devise and command the invasion.’

‘And I would stake all the riches of Broon, granted, that’s no fortune these days, it’s the same leader responsible for splitting the Seven Realms, and’ — his face paled — ‘had the power to summon the drayloks.’

Elodi froze. She recalled the embroidered gold and red braids depicting the flames spurting from their cavernous mouths. ‘I… I thought the tapestry was a work of art, and the hags more of a symbol than for real.’

Bardon slumped. ‘I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely honest with you. And for that, I offer my apologies. I used to think the same as you. Then it became a hope, then a desperate wish they were from the weaver’s imagination.’ He sighed. ‘But now…?’

She stared at him. ‘You’re saying the tapestry is accurate? These creatures are—?’

Elodi’s scalp tingled. ‘I don’t know that word.’ But as she spoke, deep down, part of her recoiled at the name.

Bardon’s eyes widened. ‘Few do, and nor should they. It’s the old name for drayloks which I will not readily repeat.’ He turned back to the forest. ‘My father spoke of such matters shortly before he passed on. I must admit at the time I took it to be the ramblings of a dying man beset with fever, but a dread has taken hold of my heart these last few months, and with the news of activity beyond the gate, his last mutterings now seem all too real.’

Elodi placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘Of what did he speak?’

Bardon returned to the table and refilled his glass. He offered more to Elodi; she understood from his gesture she would be wise to accept. He sat and leaned back in his chair. ‘There are records in the Hall of Scrolls, rescued from the fires of Elmarand, that speak of such manifestations. My father was a scholar researching the history of the first two realms. He claimed he read four recovered scrolls from Elmarand here in the archives, but I’ve since tried and failed to locate them. However, on my last visit I discovered a room under lock and key, I suspect what he read may well be secured behind that door.’

Elodi felt the chill seeping into her bones. ‘And you believe him?’

‘Unfortunately, yes I do. My father had kept it to himself, hoping these drayloks had long since disappeared from this world, and that he fretted over nothing. Back then I guess it was the least of his worries with other pressing troubles of the day and no sign of the enemy for centuries. But now the Archon speaks of an invasion… it feels all too real again.’

Elodi collapsed back into her chair. ‘What do we know of them?’

‘Little, especially about their origin. But on one issue, the tales make clear — they cannot cross into this realm unless summoned by a great power, and then only for a short time. And those who offer that invitation must have the strength to firstly control, then resist their fury if not satiated. And, if all three fought at the last battle against the Archon, the summoner would have commanded immense power to bring them at their bidding.’

Elodi set her glass on the table. ‘Yet, the Archon defeated them. We must take encouragement from his success.’

Bardon nodded. ‘Yes, but defeat may be too strong a word. He held them at bay and barely escaped with his sanity, and he didn’t, ultimately, face the one who summoned them.’

Elodi frowned. ‘But why didn’t their leader challenge the Archon? The beasts would have severely weakened him, all but guaranteeing the enemy a victory.’

‘I can only assume they would have been occupied dealing with the drayloks, therefore unable to take part in the battle in person. The act of the summons alone must have taken its toll.’ He tried to raise a smile. ‘Perhaps, if we’re lucky, the beasts slayed their summoner when they were denied their prey.’

‘Then why does the Archon not mention this person, being or whatever they are? Even if to dismiss the myths and give us less to fret over.’

Bardon looked to the window. ‘My father believed the Archon has little recollection of what happened on the Gormadon Plain. The few who prevailed on the battlefield long enough to witness the horror have long since passed away. Whether they contributed to the archives or the making of the tapestry, we don’t know. Only the Archon survives those dark days.’

‘And if these… what did you call them?’

‘Drayloks will suffice.’

‘If these drayloks survive to this day, can they be called upon again?’

‘That is my concern.’ Bardon stood. ‘We must seek an audience with the Archon, hopefully alone. After all these years, I remain wary of Kernlow and Galabrant. They’re old and stuck in their ways and, unfortunately, will believe without question anything the Archon chooses to tell them.’ He turned to leave. ‘I shall speak to the Proctor, or if that comes to nothing, the Castellan.’

Elodi hooked her arm under his and walked him to the door. ‘Will he listen?’

He exhaled. ‘I take encouragement from the Archon making his invasion plan known, be it at this late stage. Let us hope he is open to our concerns.’ Bardon’s hand paused on the handle. He looked back to Elodi. The lines on his face softened. ‘Not the easiest time for you to take the title of Lady Harlyn, but, if we can work together it will make it easier for us both.’