Sir Richard Grayson: Emerald Dawn

Title: Sir Richard Grayson: Emerald Dawn (An Elseworlds Saga)

Author: Syl Francis

Rating: PG

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Summary: When Sir Richard reaches his eighteenth birthday, he becomes the target for evil men and brazen women seeking easy wealth. It's up to Castle Wayne's wise Seneschal, Alfred, the Duke of Pennyworth, Lady Barbara Gordon, his true love, and of course, his guardian, Bruce Lord Wayne to ensure Richard's safe passage into his majority. To make matters worse, the legendary island kingdom of Avalon is under assault by the dark forces of an age-old enemy.

Acknowledgment: My thanks to Fencing Online for their helpful FAQ and glossary of fencing terms; also, to the New Bedford Whaling Museum online listing of Shipboard Terms. Any and all gross errors are strictly the author's. And special a thanks to all who took the time to read the endless drafts and were gracious enough to offer input.

Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright.

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Sir Richard Grayson: Emerald Dawn

(An Elseworlds Saga)

By Syl Francis

"There's a divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough-hew them how we will." (Hamlet V, 2)

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Prologue

It is said that somewhere in the mists of time lies the small island kingdom of Avalon, the jewel of the North Sea. Some say it is the stuff of legends, a tale to entertain children on a cold winter's day. Still others say that it exists today in a time and place not unlike our own where familiar heroes live and fight for justice. Regardless whether one believes in the verity of its existence, our story begins as the peaceful realm is about to be visited by an age-old evil that awakes from a centuries-long sleep . . .

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Chapter One

"Good night, Sir Richard!" Mavis the tavern maid waved from the window of her boudoir. Her sister, Elspeth, quickly joined her. "Good night! Hurry back!"

Sir Richard waved jauntily at them from his fiery steed, Nightwing. He pulled Nightwing back on his haunches, then with a final "Tally-ho!" charged into the gathering night. Castle Wayne's Seneschal, Alfred, the Duke of Pennyworth, would have his hide in the morn if he failed to return before the gates were lowered for the night.

His guardian, Bruce, Lord of Castle Wayne had left strict orders. His young ward *would* heed the nightly curfew, as did all the good citizens of Castle Wayne. Richard looked at the eastern horizon and suddenly spurred Nightwing to even greater speed. The evening star was just visible; it was later than he'd thought! If he missed curfew, he wouldn't have to worry about Alfred, *Bruce* would take care of him.

As he rounded the final bend on the road to Castle Wayne, Richard saw that they were just beginning to raise the drawbridge.

"Let's go, Nightwing!" he yelled. He took off his rakish hat in a flourish and used it to urge his loyal steed to even greater speed. Nightwing suddenly seemed possessed of an almost supernatural speed. As he increased his pace, it appeared as if rider and horse were literally flying. Nightwing's gait was so incredibly smooth, Richard couldn't feel the ground below them. In a flash, Nightwing went airborne and they successfully leaped across the distance that separated them from the partially raised drawbridge.

As they landed safely and rode under the quickly descending gates, Richard was met with whistles and wolf calls from his fellow knights who were on sentry duty.

"Did she have a sister?" Someone called out.

"Aye. That she did," another replied. "And she probably had a husband, too!" This was accompanied by raucous laughter.

Richard merely waved, not slowing until he reached the stables. He dismounted quickly and began walking Nightwing around the exercise ring. After that last surge of energy that Nightwing had given, Richard had to ensure that his trusty friend was sufficiently cooled, before he bedded him down for the night. After a few minutes, Richard removed Nightwing's saddle and blanket, brushed him down, and taking his bridle, Richard led him to the watering trough, and finally to his stall.

Richard gave Nightwing an extra helping of oats to show his gratitude. He also pulled out an apple that he'd palmed from the Hogshead Tavern that night.

"Here you go, boy," he said softly. Nightwing eagerly took the proffered apple and nuzzled his young master. Richard laughed delightedly. "You old fake . . . you knew what those two were up to all the time, didn't you? That's why you were waiting for me!" Nightwing snuffled into Richard's shoulder, then bobbed his head up and down, giving the idea that he understood.

Richard smiled and patted his companion affectionately. "The sentry who implied that I'd been with a married woman will never know just how close to the truth he actually was." Grinning suddenly, Richard held his closed hands out on either side of him. Nightwing immediately recognized the game that they'd been playing since he was a young colt. He began to sniff at Richard's closed fists; then finally moved to dig into his master's leather jerkin. Richard laughed and took out an extra large carrot.

An intolerant whinny came from two stalls down. Nightstar, personal war-horse to Lord Wayne and Nightwing's sire, had announced his displeasure at the youngsters' late arrival.

"Greetings, old timer . . . Yes, I know we were foolish, but as you can see neither of us is any worse for wear. Here, I brought you a treat, too." Richard pulled out a second apple that he'd managed to hide from Nightwing's eager nose and held it out to the older stallion.

Watching Wayne's beloved steed munch happily at the unexpected treat, Richard absentmindedly stroked his white star blaze and sighed. Ever since he'd reached the age of eighteen, and in the eyes of the locals had arrived at his majority, the women of neighboring hamlets had been after him. Thankfully, his father's Last Will and Testament had been specific. John Lord Grayson had wanted his son to be placed under the guardianship of his good friend, Bruce Lord Wayne. Furthermore, Richard wouldn't come into his full inheritance until he reached the age of one and twenty years.

Lord Grayson knew that young gentlemen made handsome targets for both evil men and brazen women in search of easy wealth. Therefore, even though legally he'd reached the age of consent, Richard willingly honored his father's memory and took a vow of fealty to Lord Wayne. He remembered the solemn ceremony some nine years past. A ceremony marred only by the all too recent deaths of both of his parents while in the service of the King.

****

"I swear by my sword and my honor that I am your loyal vassal, to serve you faithfully until such occasion as you choose to release me." Richard stood in the Great Circular Hall of Castle Wayne before a gathering of the Clan Chiefs; he was dressed proudly in his full Grayson regalia, the proud Grayson tartan of crimson, gold, and emerald casting a bright swath of color in the gloomy interior of the great hall. The motto, "Constant and True," was etched in Gaelic on his shield.

A mere lad of nine, Richard was now the hereditary Chieftain of Clan Grayson. His holdings included his ancestral home, Graetheson Court, which was located on the rocky cliffs of Solway Firth. The surrounding Lowland areas of Dumfrieshire and Strathclyde were also part of the Grayson lands. Graetheson Court's proximity to the Northern Wastelands made it a vital strategic holding in King Orrin's realm, the island kingdom of Avalon, the jewel of the North Sea.

Therefore, in obedience to his father's last will, Richard swore fealty to an Outlander, a non-Clansman. The other Clan Chiefs might have privately disapproved, but publicly they supported the wishes of Lord Grayson. Richard knelt in the traditional supplicant's position, head lowered, his sword held before him hilt forward as an offering to his new lord.

Lord Wayne solemnly took the sword, then held out his right hand. Richard kissed the Wayne signet ring to seal his oath. Completing the ceremony, Wayne lightly tapped Richard on each shoulder and stated formally: "I accept your fealty, Sir Richard, Lord Grayson. Rise and serve me until such occasion as I choose to release you from your oath."

****

A quiet whinny from Elinore's stall woke Richard from his musings. The usual stable sounds of stamping hoofs and rattling halters added a soothing symphony to the quiet surroundings. Elinore's time was drawing near. This was her first foal, and both Richard and Nightwing, the proud father, were anxiously awaiting the blessed event.

"Shh-h, Lady Elinore," Richard said gently. He entered her stall where she lay on her side. Elinore delicately raised her head at the sound of Richard's voice. He knelt next to her and gently stroked her neck. "Shh-h, beautiful lady . . . pretty mother . . . " Richard continued speaking nonsensical endearing phrases.

Lord Grayson had had a magic touch with horses, something about his whispered sorcerer's blood. Some said that he was descended from the band of wandering Romany sorcerers who used to inhabit the foothills and countryside surrounding the Trossachs, the mountains that ran along the southern boundary of the Caledonian Highlands. Whatever it was, Richard knew instinctively that he had his father's gift with horses. A voice behind him expressed agreement.

"You *do* have your father's touch, Dicky."

Annoyed, Richard looked up towards the sound of the voice. There was only person who dared call him by the hated nickname, Lady Barbara, the daughter of Captain Sir James Gordon, Captain of the Castle Guards. Richard felt the usual confusion that her presence always seemed to place him in. He ducked his head quickly to hide the sudden flush that had spread across his cheeks. He pretended to be closely studying Elinore's mane.

As usual, Lady Barbara was dressed in a skirt and bodice made of simple homespun linen; she wore a white apron over it that was stained from her daily household chores. Richard knew that the apron had been as white as fresh-fallen snow when she'd put it on first thing that morning; however, Barbara worked as hard as any of the household servants even though she was not required to do so because of her station.

"Good e'en, Lady Barbara," he said. He'd *almost* called her Lady *Babs*, a name she despised as much as he hated *Dicky*; however, Richard was raised to be a gentleman, and a knight *never* insulted a lady, however well deserved. Of course, Barbara Gordon is no lady, he added darkly to himself.

"Have you decided on a name for the wee one, yet?"

"Aye," Richard said, disarmed; Elinore's foal was currently his favorite topic of discussion. "Bruce and I have decided on *Elaine* if the foal's a filly, and if it's a colt, then *Nightwind*." Barbara smiled her approval.

"What do *you* think Lady Elinore?" Elinore whinnied in gentle approval. Barbara and Richard exchanged amused glances. Barbara's eyes suddenly took on an impish twinkle.

"I hear you've been paying a visit to Hogshead Tavern this e'en," she said. She was looking at him saucily askance. Richard sighed. Here it comes, he thought.

"Aye, you heard correctly," he admitted reluctantly.

"So how is Bullock the Tavern owner?" she asked innocently.

"He is in good health," Richard replied.

"Oh, really? Did you see him then? I'd heard that he was in Gotham Town these past two days, selling and buying wares. I heard not of his return from his travels."

"Nay, I saw him not," Richard admitted. "But his good wife Mavis did inform me of his excellent health."

"I see . . . so it was with Mistress Bullock with whom you spent this e'en?" Richard began to shake his head in denial, then perversely changed his mind. Lady Barbara was heartily enjoying his discomfiture, and he had had just about enough. He suddenly gave her a devilish smile with a suggestive twinkle. Placing his hands behind his head, Richard lay back casually on the soft hay in Elinore's stall.

"Aye, in fact, her sister, the maiden Elspeth, was there as well. We spent quite an interesting afternoon together, the three of us. Before I knew it, it was time to return to Castle Wayne. But I assure you, my lady, that a young gentleman could not hope for two lovelier wenches with whom to while the idle hours."

Barbara's green eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed in obvious anger. "Sir Richard, son of John Lord Grayson, you are a disgrace to your knightly vows!" Barbara turned on her heel and stamped out of the stables.

Richard grinned.

In fact, Richard had indeed spent an *interesting* afternoon with Bullock's good wife, Mavis, and her maiden sister Elspeth. Which is why he'd left the Hogshead Tavern in such a rush; Mavis' intentions soon became all too obvious to the young knight. Richard liked and respected Bullock, the owner of the Hogshead, and had actually been there that evening to speak with him.

As Barbara stated, Bullock had been out, but Richard had not discovered that fact until almost too late. Mavis had tried to place him in a compromising position by misleading him into believing that Bullock was in the upstairs bedchamber and that he wanted to see him.

Upon entering the bedchamber Richard discovered, not Bullock, but Elspeth lying in bed completely unclothed. Nude. Totally. Richard was almost frozen in shock. When Mavis suddenly locked the door behind her, and Elspeth flipped up her covers invitingly, Richard sprang into action.

He literally flew out the second story window, somersaulting in mid-air and grabbing the flagpole that hung from the building's facade. He allowed his momentum to swing him around the flagpole once. As he completed his revolution he whistled for Nightwing, released his grip and flew towards his horse.

He'd timed his release so that he landed on Nightwing as his horse galloped below him. He quickly settled into his seat, spun Nightwing around, looked up at the window and gallantly waved adieu to the two women who'd tried to compromise his honor.

If he'd known that turning eighteen would be this nerve-racking, Richard thought glumly, he'd never have insisted on a birthday celebration! Now it seemed as if every unmarried maiden (and married woman) knew that he'd reached his legal age and could enter into a betrothal contract. Well, he wasn't ready to become betrothed to anybody! Why didn't they pick on someone their own size--like Lord Wayne? He was unmarried . . . and wealthy! He owned the part of the realm that the King didn't, or so the saying went.

Anyway, the only damsels whom Richard had met so far were silly and giggled constantly. It seemed to Richard that the mothers were even worse: they insistently pushed their awkward daughters towards him, forcing an introduction, which invariably ended with the gawky young girl looking like she wanted to be swallowed whole.

Truth be told, the only girl who didn't seem to swoon at his feet was Barbara; however, she was a few years older than he and loved to lord it over him in a superior manner. Anyway, she apparently couldn't stand him personally, and would just as soon run him through with her father's saber as look at him. Not that he'd ever ask *her* for her hand.

Although, he admitted privately that she *did* have lovely green eyes. And she was an expert rider, as well as an accomplished swordswoman. And, she hardly ever giggled, except at *his* expense, he added, his eyes narrowing.

The church bells rang the hour: seven o'clock! He would be late for the even repast if he didn't hurry, and Alfred was a stickler for promptness! He slipped into his seat while Fra Haly gave the blessing. Haly had been the Grayson family's personal confessor. He had officiated at Lord and Lady Grayson's marriage nuptials and at the baptism and christening of their only son. Richard was extremely fond of him.

" . . . Father, as we thank you for this fine evening repast, we ask you to guide young Sir Richard through his life's journey so that the decisions he makes are wise ones." Richard cringed at the mention of his name. "We ask this in your name . . . Amen."

The table responded with a round of "Amens." Sir Wallace looked over at Richard and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Sir Roy joined in the pantomime and soon both young knights looked ready to collapse in laughter. Richard rolled his eyes upward. He glanced to the other end of the table where Lady Barbara usually sat with her father. She was talking animatedly to someone whom Richard did not know. A visitor to Castle Wayne was a rare enough occasion to warrant investigation.

"Sir Richard!" Wayne's booming voice could be heard reverberating around the great hall.

"My lord!" Richard responded, instantaneously on his feet and facing his lord.

"Nay, Richard . . . please, remain seated," Wayne said placatingly. "I wish to introduce you to Master Jack Rapier. Master Rapier brings us glad tidings from their majesties, King Orrin and Queen Diana. They shall be paying us a visit within the next moon tide."

"That is indeed good news, my lord. 'Tis an age since last I saw my aunt and uncle," Richard replied.

"Aye, it is," Wayne answered. The occasion of the last royal visit had not been cause for celebration; instead, their majesties had escorted home the remains of Richard's parents in solemn procession. The Graysons had lain in state for five days. Mourners had traveled from throughout the kingdom to pay their last respects to the queen's much beloved sister and brother-in-law.

Since Wayne had been designated Richard's guardian, the ties binding Castle Wayne to the royal court had become further strengthened. Moreover, as Wayne was unmarried and childless, and because he felt a fatherly affection for his ward, he had recently named Sir Richard his sole heir as well. While Wayne's decision went over quite well with the local populace, it only enhanced Richard's feelings that he was just so much beef on the hoof waiting for some lucky wench to dig her meat hooks into him.

Wayne's fingers moved in the secret signal. Richard responded in kind, "Message received." He looked over in Alfred's direction; the loyal Seneschal gave the barest nod. Excellent! There was need for the Nightriders! Richard felt the adrenaline course through his veins. He turned towards the food on his plate. He ate whatever was placed in front of him, but couldn't remember any of the delicacies that Cook had so painstakingly prepared.

He heard laughter coming from Barbara's location. Barbara looked unusually flushed tonight; her complexion glowed in the dim lighting streaming from the hundreds of candles suspended over head. Her Titian hair, tied back in a hair net delicately comprised of white pearls, was seemingly alight with the fire of countless suns. She had changed for dinner, of course, and was now wearing a beautifully brocaded formal gown that had an embroidered bodice of the softest meadow green, which enchantingly set off her eyes.

Master Rapier leaned over and said something to her that brought a breath-taking smile. Richard felt a sudden stab of jealousy course through him. Who was this kingsman, Rapier? He'd never *heard* of him! The anticipated excitement of the evening's activities left him.

"Would ye care for any more of the turkey breast, Sir Richard?" Richard came out of his reverie and looked up at the beautiful brown eyes of the buxom serving maid, Bess. Bess was one of the many unattached girls who were constantly offering up their wares to the young knight. So far, he'd been able to resist her advances--basically because he was terrified of her and had somehow managed to always see her first, thus allowing him time to escape in the direction opposite to that which she was going. Besides, there was something about her that made him distinctly uncomfortable.

Bess leaned down until her well-endowed decolletage was at his eye level. Richard felt his whole body flush hotly.

"Uh-h . . . breast? Uh-h . . . I mean . . . turkey . . . no, I-I'm full, Bess . . . I couldn't eat another . . . breast . . . " He swallowed, then looked up at her horrified that he may have said or done something offensive. Instead, Bess was giving him a smile full of secret promises. Her eyes . . . her eyes bothered him. Despite their promise of forbidden pleasures, they seemed cold . . . almost calculating.

"I'll be in the east gate stables later this e'en," she whispered. With that, the young serving maid began to clear Richard's table setting. A couple of times she lightly brushed against him, causing him to jump nervously. He sneaked a peek over at Barbara and to his utter dismay, he saw her eyes targeting daggers at him.

Richard caught the knowing looks that Wallace and Roy were sending him. Then, like a dark shadow descending on his very soul, he *felt* Lord Wayne's eyes on him. Richard looked at Wayne and caught a glittering look of disapproval in his eyes. Richard was well versed in this look; he'd seen it enough times when Wayne directed it at some hapless highwayman who'd dared to practice his art on Castle Wayne lands. He knew it well enough to know that he didn't want it turned on him.

Richard wondered that if he wished long and hard enough whether the ground would suddenly open up and swallow him. Now he knew how all of those awkward girls felt when they were thrust on him by their mothers. This was turning into just a wonderful evening, he thought.

As Richard sat there forlornly wishing he knew how to perform the disappearing act that Wayne's magician, the Great Zatar, had perfected, he again felt a pair of eyes on him. This time however the sensation he was receiving wasn't Wayne's disapproval or Barbara's jealous anger; instead, a feeling of cold, abject malevolence seemed to descend on him, a sensation of such intense malignity that Richard felt it as a shroud settling over him in suffocating folds.

Richard began to dissociate as he often did when he couldn't separate the physical reality around him from the metaphysical regions that seemed to draw him forth. He looked around the great hall as if in a dream. Wallace and Roy were both leering at Bess, laughing good-naturedly as she sidestepped their drunken advances. Barbara was tossing her head back, finishing off her goblet of mead in an almost defiant manner. Lord Wayne was leaning over and speaking in quiet undertones to Alfred who nodded sagely.

Finally, Richard's eyes came to rest on Rapier. Rapier had his right arm resting on the back of Barbara's chair. He was leaning closely to her, smiling charmingly, easily, whispering in her ear. Barbara's face blushed prettily and she quickly dropped her eyes. She seemed suddenly nervous and moved slightly away from Rapier, apparently to put distance between them.

Rapier gallantly moved away from her. Then, to Richard's surprise, Rapier turned around and looked him fully in the eyes, holding him in his mesmerizing gaze. Time seemed to stand still. Richard suddenly blinked and the firmament resumed its normal place within the celestial spheres. Rapier gave him a knowing smile, then stood.

"Lord Wayne . . . Lady Barbara . . . fellow knights of the realm, and ladies . . . I propose a toast . . . to their Majesties . . . King Orrin and Queen Diana . . . long life and prosperity!" All rose and responded heartily.

"To the King and Queen . . . long life and prosperity!" They tossed back their goblets, then as one threw them at the great fireplace. "Here, here! Long live King Orrin and Queen Diana!"

"My Lord Wayne, I have had a long and tiring journey. I beg your indulgence and request to retire for the night to my guest chambers," Rapier said.

Wayne nodded his acquiescence. "Alfred shall see to your needs, Master Rapier. Sleep well."

"Thank you, my lord. Your hospitality has been unsurpassed. I bid you good night." Rapier turned and followed Alfred to his guest quarters. Following Rapier's lead, Richard stood up as well.

"My lord, I too have had a long day. I beg your indulgence to excuse me from the rest of the evening's festivities and allow me to retire to my private chambers." Wayne nodded. He gave Richard the sign meaning midnight sharp at the usual rendezvous. Richard acknowledged the message then headed towards his apartments. He had a little over three hours before he had to meet Wayne; therefore, he'd use the time to bathe and refresh himself. It had been a long, arduous ride from the Hogshead Tavern.

He wondered what dark activities required the services of the Nightriders. The Dark Knight and his squire Robin were becoming legendary in these parts. Of course, no one really believed in their actual existence, just folktales invented to excite and frighten children at night. There were those who insisted that the Nightriders rode out of the shadows on their thundering steeds, and others who swore that they swooped in from the sky--like bats in the night. Whatever the impossible tales, they were all in agreement in one thing: the Nightriders rescued the helpless from the forces of the dark that rumors said were encroaching into Avalon.

Richard wondered if there were indeed forces from the nether regions wending their way into King Orrin's kingdom. Legend said that during the Time of the Dark, when the kingdom was held in thrall by the evil hand of the wicked sorcerer Mordant, the Romany sorcerers had banded together with the Emerald Guardians for one last devastating battle and had defeated the baneful mage's dark armies.

However, the powerful magical energies that had been released by both sides had destroyed much of the realm, resulting in the destruction of what had once been the northern mountain range, which had bordered the two lands. Now only a vast wasteland of unbroken desert lay for hundreds of miles as the crow flew. For two centuries no one who had ventured into these regions had returned.

Some said that Mordant had not been killed, but simply lay dormant, waiting to be awakened. Others said that it was merely legend, the stuff of dreams.

Whatever the truth, Richard knew that what he had seen these past few months weren't dreams. Perhaps they were the stuff of his worst nightmares, but they weren't dreams. He still had the battle scars to prove it, he thought ruefully. This was why Lord Wayne imposed a dusk to dawn curfew on the inhabitants of Castle Wayne and the surroundings outlands.

There had been an inexplicable number of disappearances in the past few months, accompanied with a growing sense of dread. Most of the missing were little more than children: Young maids who'd never known a man's bed; boys who'd not yet undergone any changes into manhood. Needless to say, many of the surrounding populace were beginning to pack their few belongings and move into the relative protection of Castle Wayne.

Reports were flying in from Lord Wayne's borderland scouts that a vast Dark Legion was assembling beyond the Wastelands. Even more frightening were the unconfirmed stories that Mordant had awakened.

Richard looked down at the family heirloom that hung from his neck. A many-faceted emerald jewel surrounded by a ring of bright red rubies set on a simple gold backing, the Emerald Eye was said to endow its wearer with the powerful sorcery of the Romany clan. Unfortunately, his father had died before he'd passed the Eye's secrets to him. While Richard greatly prized the family amulet, it was his father's uncanny wisdom and knowledge of the secret arts that he wished he'd been given. Without that knowledge, the Eye was little more than mere decoration.

Richard sighed. He'd best hurry if he were to make the midnight rendezvous.

*****

Chapter Two

As he entered the Nightriders' secret headquarters, Richard saw that Wayne was already liveried in black from head to toe: the Dark Knight. He was obviously waiting impatiently for his ward. Richard nodded and hurried quickly to Alfred who waited with his Robin regalia. Like his guardian, Richard was dressed entirely in black, except for a single bold girdle of red around his trim waist. A half-cowl to mask his features completed the transformation.

"About time! I was ready to set off on my own," Wayne said curtly.

"My apologies, Bruce," Richard replied properly chastised. "Alfred, I can manage . . . why don't you ready the horses?"

"Done, Sir Richard," Alfred said drolly. Richard grinned boyishly.

"What would we ever do without you, Alfred?"

"I shudder to speculate, young sir," Alfred said without batting an eyelid. He gave Richard's long flowing cape a gentle tug as a finishing touch and stepped back. He gave his young charge a nod of satisfaction. Richard stretched, testing his light mail to ensure ease of movement. Satisfied, he nodded at Wayne, who without a word, turned on his heel and headed towards the secret passageway to the stables.

"With their Majesties paying us a visit within the fortnight, we must ensure that the countryside is safe for travel. These unspeakable horrors that we encountered on the last new moon . . . I don't know Richard . . . I just don't know." Wayne shook his head. Richard looked at his Lord in shock. For Wayne to admit that he was at a loss for an explanation or an idea of how to solve a problem showed the extreme gravity of the situation.

"My Lord, if these are evil creatures from the Time of the Dark, perhaps the way to fight them is not through swordsmanship, but rather through sorcery. Surely, the Great Zatar can help in this area?"

"The Great Zatar is a stage magician only, lad. He knows not of alchemy or any of the occult arts. To the best of my knowledge, no one has practiced these arts since the great Mage Wars. Legend has it that it took the combined energies of all the Romany sorcerers and the Emerald Guardians to defeat Mordant. Such power was unimaginable then and is unimaginable now." Wayne paused to allow Richard the opportunity to contemplate such awesome forces.

"When I was a wee lad, Alfred used to entertain me with bedtime stories of a great blinding flash that was reportedly seen a four-days ride from the borderlands. This was followed by a great emerald cloud in the shape of a mushroom that rose high into the sky. As the cloud dissipated, it obscured the sun for several days. Those were strange days indeed." Wayne gazed unwaveringly at his young ward.

"I know of no one who commands such destructive power today, lad. Nay, I *pray* that no one commands such a power . . . and yet, if we are to survive the coming of Mordant's Legions . . . I can only pray that we may find one who does. Meanwhile, there is little that we can do now. We must ride each night and patrol the countryside until King Orrin's visit, and investigate all reports of strange sightings, regardless of their seeming impossibility. And if by some chance we run into another of these creatures, then we must capture it at all costs. We need physical evidence in order to petition the King on the danger we all face."

Richard nodded solemnly. He began to feel strangely dissociated from his surroundings. The story that Bruce had related seemed familiar, like something from a half-remembered dream. He fingered the Emerald Eye unconsciously. It felt hot to the touch. As he reached Nightwing, the world suddenly began to spin in a mad kaleidoscope. Strange images began to assault his senses and quickly overwhelmed him . . .

****

. . . He wakes. He is standing in the middle of a mounted battle, surrounded by the sounds of steel on steel, and the screams of the wounded and dying. The helpless neighs of injured horses tear at his heart. Next, he finds himself half a league behind the lines. Suddenly, the King's archers run past him. Their urgency is apparent, yet they move quickly in disciplined formation. Infantry, carrying 18-foot pikes in the upright position used for marching, follow them. Finally, a long train of wagons bringing up the rear echelon arrives.

To Richard's surprise, the occupants of the wagons emerge with quiet determination. He can almost *feel* the power that emanates from the men and women who as one begin to climb to the top of the ridge overlooking the battle. Some are dressed in the colorful garb of the Romany; others are dressed in dark hooded robes. Subdued lighting hides the robes' hue. Without uttering a word, or pausing to rest, the group of thirty finally reaches its destination.

They first scratch a circle on the ground and then a hexagon inside the circle. Three men and three women each take an emerald jewel and place it at each point of the hexagon. Another, dressed entirely in emerald robes takes what appears to be a green lantern and sets it carefully in the center of the hexagon.

As one, each man and woman carefully stands outside the circle, removes the emerald talisman that hangs from his or her neck and holds it solemnly towards the center. Then they begin to chant: "In brightest day, in blackest night . . . "

****

". . . No evil shall escape my sight . . . " Richard whispered. He felt the cold compress on his forehead and winced away from it. The images swirling in his head faded quickly from memory, until he had nothing left except a vague feeling of urgency.

"He's coming to, sir!" Alfred's voice sounded worried and relieved at the same time.

"Thank God!" Bruce said, sounding concerned. "I don't know what happened, Alfred. One minute we're mounting our horses, the next he's lying on the ground unconscious!"

"Bruce . . . ? Alfred . . . ?" Richard whispered, dazed. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Alfred asked. Richard shook his head confused.

"Did I fall in battle?" he asked. Wayne's face came into his line of vision, his mouth quirked in a half-smile.

"I'm afraid not, lad; we didn't even make it out of the stables. How are you feeling? Can you sit up?" Richard made a mental assessment of his faculties. He felt all right.

"I believe so, my Lord," he said nodding. He attempted to sit up slowly, but paused midway. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, but quickly passed. Alfred worried over him like an old nanny. "I'm all right, Alfred," he protested, "really." Alfred leaned back and sighed. How so like young Lord Wayne at his age. Still a boy, but trying so hard to be a man.

"Very well, young sir. If you're certain that you're feeling well, then I shall retire to my rooms. With your permission, Lord Wayne." Wayne nodded.

"I believe that you have hurt his feelings, lad," Wayne gently chastised after Alfred left.

"I did not mean to do so, my Lord. I would never knowingly cause hurt to Alfred. He has treated me as his own son since the day I arrived at Castle Wayne. How should I ever make it up to him, Bruce?" Richard's face looked stricken. Wayne gave him his usual half-smile.

"I believe, Richard, that just allowing Alfred to fuss over you will cast balm on whatever troubled waters you may have stirred. Do not worry, lad. Alfred loves us both and treats us *both* as if we were still in need of a wet nurse. I'm just glad you're here . . . this way I'm not the sole recipient of his ministrations." Richard laughed and felt better. He'd make it up to Alfred in the morning. A sudden thought struck him.

"Bruce, how long was I out? Do we still have time to patrol the castle holdings?" Wayne gave him a wide grin and nodded.

"Aye, lad. Dawn is still a good five candlemarks away. We have plenty of time to patrol the nearby forests. Are you up to it?" Richard grinned in turn and tossed off the bedcovers.

"What do *you* think, my Lord?" Richard quickly pulled on his riding boots and fastened his spurs. He grabbed his saber and crossbow from where they'd been carelessly tossed in the corner. Almost as an afterthought, he carefully slid a razor-sharp stiletto into his right boot. "Let us away!" The Nightriders quickly hurried down the secret passageways to their waiting horses.

****

They rode swiftly and silently through the deepening gloom of the forest trails. The last time they'd encountered one of the nightmarish horrors from the Time Before, they'd met it along a similarly darkened road. These forest paths were also the favorite haunts of some much more human evildoers. Since the Nightriders had begun their campaign to strike terror into the black hearts of local highwaymen, the roads that crossed through Castle Wayne lands had become much safer to travel.

Tonight, the roads were practically empty. So far, after almost three candle marks, they'd met up with one lone rider who seemed to be in a hurry to get home. They'd stopped the frightened traveler, and when they questioned him, it was all Richard could do to keep from laughing aloud. It was Bullock, the tavern keeper, returning home from his trip to Gotham Town.

"It's been an uneventful trip, praise God," Bullock informed the two masked riders. Although clearly frightened initially, when he saw that they intended him no ill, he answered their questions easily and openly. "I was successful in my business transactions while there . . . soon, I shall be adding a new wing and several guest rooms to the inn. Mayhap by midsummer next, I shall be able to accommodate even the king's entourage!"

Bullock sounded proud of his accomplishments and Richard couldn't blame him. A self-made man was most unusual and largely impossible during these troubled times. Of course, when one owned a tavern on land that had been deeded by a Wayne ancestor for services rendered in the past, that landowner was ensured protection by the current Wayne heir as well as a tax-free existence for perpetuity.

"Thank you for the information, friend," Wayne said. "Godspeed home . . . and do not worry . . . the Nightriders watch o'er the lands of Castle Wayne tonight!" The Dark Knight and Robin waved farewell, then the spun their horses and continued their mission.

Within the half candle mark, they ran into the first sign of trouble. A carriage had been waylaid by a small band of outlaws. Richard shook his head in amazement. Even with their growing reputations as the Nightriders, there were some that still believed they could prey on helpless travelers through the Wayne holdings.

"When will these brigands learn?" Richard said exasperatedly.

The sudden scream of a woman propelled the Dark Knight and his squire into action. Richard spurred Nightwing into a full gallop. The stalwart stallion responded immediately, eager for action. Wayne and Richard drew swords almost simultaneously, and emerged from the dark woods like demons from hell. Their black capes billowed wildly behind them; their cowled faces were grimaced in almost ravenous anger.

The startled outlaws turned and quickly prepared for battle. Two held their helpless victim between them. Suddenly, she slipped from their grasp, and with almost a catlike growl, she slashed at their faces with her nails. Caught by surprise, they fell back, giving her the opportunity to escape around the carriage. As she ran, she suddenly kicked out at one of the outlaws who'd reached out to grab her. He doubled over, holding his groin where she'd kicked him with her booted foot.

"Helpless victim?" Richard wondered aloud. "I don't think we're even needed here, my Lord!" Wayne turned and gave him a feral grin.

They quickly descended on the outlaws, their swords flashing in the moonlight. As the right-handed Richard slashed out with his saber, he brought up his crossbow with his left, aimed and released the deadly bolt, which he'd already set to fire. The quarrel flew true to its mark. He heard a scream, but by then he'd turned his full attention to his opponent. He saw an opening in the brigand's left side, and thrust with his saber. His victim's eyes opened wide in shock, then glazed over when death took him.

Richard pulled his saber free, and turned to face the next challenger. He was suddenly struck from the side and thrown off his horse, losing his weapon in the process. He recovered his feet almost instantaneously, executing a reverse somersault, thus narrowly escaping being skewered. Two outlaws hurriedly descended on him from opposite directions, brandishing dirks. One grabbed Richard from behind while the other moved to run him through.

At the last possible moment, Richard kicked up with his powerful legs, stunning his attacker. He then bent forward, throwing his captor over his head. The assailant's weapon went flying and Richard caught it in mid-air with a flourish. Not skipping a beat, Richard turned on his attackers; he leaped up, and in a lightning fast blur spun around and kicked out with his legs straight. Within moments both men were lying facedown in the pre-dawn dew covered grass.

By then, the rest of the outlaws decided that what had looked like easy prey was no longer worth the cost. Their attack had become a desperate retreat galvanized by a grim desire to escape with their lives.

To Richard's surprise, he saw the lady they'd "rescued" fending off two attackers simultaneously with a cat o' nine tales. The brigands retreated slowly in the face of her deadly onslaught. As one, they turned to run, splitting in two directions. She quickly lashed out at the nearest outlaw, catching him by the throat with her whip. She pulled back viciously, bringing him down.

The second one was getting away! Quickly recovering his saber, Richard gave a piercing whistle and started running. Nightwing quickly cut in next to him at a canter. Richard grabbed the pommel, swung up and over, and settled easily into his saddle. Nightwing snorted his approval. Richard grinned and spurred Nightwing into a full gallop in pursuit of the second outlaw before he made good his escape.

The Dark Knight meanwhile had bested his opponents against three to one odds. He was busy tying those who still posed a threat, and rendering medical aid to those who needed it; however, most of the wounded were almost beyond any earthly help.

As Richard chased after the fugitive outlaw, he again spurred Nightwing and was instantly gratified with a sudden burst of speed. They came up quickly on the running figure; Richard released his stirrups and went flying, landing squarely on his target.

They both went down in a tangle. The outlaw recovered first and kicked out at Richard, connecting solidly with his chin. Richard saw stars momentarily and tasted blood; still woozy he dived after his opponent, refusing to let him get away. As the outlaw turned to swing with his fist, Richard ducked, quickly placed his hands on the ground, and kicked straight up with both booted feet. He connected with the outlaw's soft abdomen. His opponent went down, clutching his stomach.

"Do you stand down?" Richard demanded, his breathing coming in short gasps. The outlaw didn't reply. Richard drew his sword, and held its point to the outlaw's chin. He gently raised the brigand's chin with the point of his saber. "Do you stand down?" he repeated. The frightened outlaw's eyes opened wide in terror. He tried to answer, but no sound would emerge; he swallowed and tried again.

"Aye . . . I do," he managed to croak. Richard gave him a rakish grin.

"I thought you would. Get up . . . the Dark Knight awaits your audience." The outlaw's eyes seemed to open even wider.

"No please! I beg you!" Unmindful of Richard's blade, the prisoner crawled pathetically to Richard's feet and hugged his boots. "Please! Do not turn me over to that devil's spawn! Please! I heard he eats the hearts of the highwaymen he's accosted!" His outright alarm surprised Richard. Devil's spawn? That was a new one. Heh. Wait till I tell Bruce!

"On your feet. You've nothing to fear from the Dark Knight; on my honor, I swear that he *does not* eat vermin!" It took them almost ten minutes to return to the carriage and the others, however, because Richard's prisoner kept collapsing in fear. Richard's patience was sorely tested by having to pick him up every few moments; he almost decided to just run him through to put him out of his misery. He'd probably prefer a quick death to facing the Dark Knight's justice.

When they arrived at the carriage, Richard was practically carrying his prisoner, whose use of his legs had finally failed him. Relieved, Richard threw him in a pile with the other outlaws. Five prisoners, one wounded grievously, and four dead; this was a terrible night's work indeed. Sometimes the mission that the Nightriders had taken upon themselves sorely tried his very soul.

"Lady Selina . . . a thousand pardons, but my squire and I cannot reveal our true identities. To do so, would render us useless in our vow to bring law and justice to the outlying lands between Castle Wayne and Gotham Town. Rest assured, lady, that we are friends and not brigands." Richard rolled his eyes at this speech. God's Blood, but Bruce was laying it on a bit thick! He walked over to where they stood and crossed his arms waiting. Bruce saw him standing there impatiently.

"Robin, may I present the Lady Selina Kyle, first lady-in-waiting to the Princess Royal." Richard's ears pricked at this. The Princess Royal was his first cousin, Donna, whom Richard loved as dearly as a sister. Both she and her brother, Garth, the Crown Prince and heir to the throne, were extremely close to Richard.

Now that he thought of it, he seemed to recall Donna mentioning in one of her latest missives that a Lady Selina had recently joined her inner circle. Apparently his good aunt the Queen, had selected the lady not because of a family tradition, but because of her fighting skills. His Aunt Diana no doubt felt that his beautiful, yet somewhat headstrong, cousin *needed* a keeper!

Richard chivalrously kissed the lady's proffered hand. "*Selina* . . . according to legend, the goddess of the moon. 'Tis indeed a pleasure to meet such a beautiful moon goddess on a moonlit night such as this." Lady Selina laughed gently.

"I had no idea that the Dark Knight and his squire were such gallants! These brigands killed my driver, a loyal servant who's been with my family since before I was born. You gentlemen rescued me and for that I shall be forever in your debt."

"The pleasure was ours, my lady," Wayne protested.

"Indeed. We hardly did anything," Richard added. "If we hadn't arrived, it probably would've taken you about five more minutes to dispense with the riffraff." Lady Selina laughed lightly. Her laughter reminded Richard almost of a cat's contented purring.

"Robin, let's load the prisoners and the wounded into the carriage. We'll leave word with the castle guard as to the location of the dead. Have a couple of the prisoners properly wrap the bodies in their capes to keep them from becoming carrion food." Richard nodded and moved to carry out his orders.

As the eastern horizon lightened, the exhausted party arrived outside the gates of Castle Wayne.

"Dawn is almost upon us, Lady; therefore, I'm afraid that this is where we must part company," Wayne said reluctantly. "You'll be safe here. The morning watch will lower the drawbridge within the half candle mark." Wayne looked intensely into her eyes. "Should we never meet again, Lady Selina. Fair thee well."

"Fair thee well, Dark Knight," Lady Selina said quietly. The Dark Knight and Robin turned their steeds quickly and disappeared into the morning mists.

****

Chapter Three

"Richard Grayson!" Barbara's voice pierced his dreams. "The sun is halfway up towards its zenith and you are still a bed!" Richard tried burrowing deeper into his bedcovers. These were instantly pulled off. The morning chill quickly woke him.

"Lady Barbara, it's the middle of the night," he groaned. Barbara quickly drew the curtains and the bright sunlight suddenly streamed in, blinding him. "Argh!" He turned away from the white light. "What are you doing in my chambers at this unholy hour? Are you trying to kill me?"

"That's a tempting thought," Barbara replied. "However, father sent me to fetch you. Apparently you are late for your private fencing lesson with the Captain of the Guard."

Richard sighed. He'd had little more than two hours sleep and felt thoroughly exhausted. He noticed for the first time that he was lying in bed in his undergarments without any type of cover. Lady Barbara was in his bedchamber and he was practically naked!

He quickly grabbed his bedcovers and hiked them up to his chin.

"I respectfully request that you leave my chambers immediately, Barbara Gordon!" Richard protested. "'Tis most unseemly that a virtuous young maiden such as yourself should be in the chambers of a king's knight!"

"Oh, pish posh, Richard Grayson! I helped your dear mother, Lady Mary change your nappies when you were still a wee babe in arms. There's nothing you have that I haven't seen all ready!" Barbara stood in the center of Richard's chambers with her arms crossed, a look of utter contempt in her flashing eyes.

Richard's own eyes narrowed at the challenge. "Oh, is that right?" he said. He immediately threw off his covers and jumped out of bed. They stood staring at each other for what seemed an eternity. Richard deliberately approached her, instinctively assuming the predatory stance he utilized in a sword fight. Barbara suddenly swallowed.

Richard was only wearing a white muslin breechcloth intended as an undergarment. His perfectly proportioned physique, marred by four not quite healed welts across the rib cage, gave him the appearance of a young Greek god. Barbara's cheeks blushed crimson . . . she could see right through his breechcloth!

"Oh!" Barbara yelped, and hurriedly turned her back, intending to rush out of the room; however, Richard was too fast for her, grabbing her from behind.

"What's your hurry, my Lady?" Richard held her by the arms, her back to him; he'd spoken in low suggestive tones. "I thought that I had nothing to show you that you hadn't seen already in your much greater experience. Perhaps you would care to share some of your *knowledge* with me? I am after all your junior by five years; I lack your education in certain . . . nonacademic . . . subjects."

As he talked, Barbara could feel Richard's hot breath on her neck. She felt herself being willingly drawn into his hypnotic spell, a fly to a burning taper. He gently ran his hands up her arms, caressing her neck lightly with his cheek. Abruptly, Richard turned her to him, locking her arms behind her.

She'd tried to raise his ire with her taunting words yet again, and this time she'd succeeded! In a fit of pique, Richard held her a bit tighter and more roughly than his normally good-humored nature would have allowed. He'd always liked and respected Barbara. Most of the time he thought of her as an annoying older sister, but lately there were times when he caught himself staring her and suddenly feeling as if the earth had ceased to turn on its axis.

Then there was her searing tongue, which always left him the loser in their ongoing battle of wits. Well, it was *his* turn.

"I don't have anything show you, do I?" He asked, his voice deceptively mild. "We'll see about *that*, my dear caustic lady!"

Richard kissed her fully in the mouth. Because Barbara stood an inch taller than he did, Richard found himself having to stand slightly on his tiptoes; however, as Barbara willingly succumbed to his increasing pressure, she seemed to melt into his arms, their bodies becoming as one. What had started out as a cruel joke to goad her into a fit of anger, turned into a passionately burning kiss that neither of them expected. Barbara responded with a ferocity that she'd never suspected was within her; while Richard's rising hunger ignited the hidden desire that had long smoldered just below the surface.

As their communal sense of propriety suddenly settled over them, they each became aware of what they were doing. They immediately broke apart, neither able to breathe. They stood a handswidth apart and gazed in mutual shock into each other's eyes.

"My lady," Richard gasped, horrified at his conduct. He immediately kneeled and bowed his head. "I beg your forgiveness . . . I wouldst fain cut out my own heart as bring thee dishonor. You are and ever have been my true and dearest friend . . . a sister of my heart."

"Please, Sir Richard," Barbara cried, her face covered in disgrace. "Let us not bring mention of this shameful moment again. We were both in the wrong." She turned to go. "I should not have teased you. You are no longer the wee lad with whom I used to play in the nursery. You are a knight and should be treated with the dignity afforded your station. If anyone should ask for forgiveness, it is I." She paused at the door. "Father expects you at mid-morn."

Richard nodded in acquiescence. The soft closing of the door jerked him back. He couldn't believe what he'd almost done. His knightly vows of chastity, chivalry, and honor almost cast carelessly off. "Oh, fie on all that!" He said angrily. "I deliberately tried to hurt Barbara. That is unforgivable! She may have the sharpest tongue in all of Avalon, but there isn't a dearer lady anywhere." He sat on his bed and held his head in shame.

A soft knock on the door roused him.

"Yes, who goes?" he called.

"'Tis Alfred, Sir Richard. I heard you moving about and wondered if you'd care to break your fast?" Richard was in no mood to be coddled right at this moment, but remembering his rude behavior of the previous night, sighed and bid Alfred enter.

As Alfred laid out a lovely morning meal, Richard went into his accompanying chamber to refresh himself. "I must be an utter wretch to have brought pain on two of my dearest friends within the space of only a few hours," he muttered.

Richard quickly hurried through his morning routine. He dressed in simple homespun woolen breeches and shirt; over this he threw on an open jerkin made of soft calf's leather. Lastly, he pulled on an old pair of scuffed boots. Past experience had taught him that when fencing against Captain Gordon, the wise man dressed in clothes he didn't mind getting torn and bloodied.

Alfred took one look at his young charge and raised an eyebrow in silent disapproval. Richard blushed guiltily, but held his ground. He'd lost too many silk shirts in the past to relish the loss of another. Alfred gave a long-suffering sigh but didn't say anything. Today's youth, he tsked.

Finally, Richard sat down to his breakfast. He would have preferred to slap a piece of cheese between two slices of bread, but Alfred hovered over him, insisting that he eat a hearty meal so to best meet the day's challenges. Richard smiled gamely and forced himself to swallow the various sweet breads and fruits that Alfred placed before him.

****

Less than a candlemark later, Richard was leaping, dodging, and otherwise moving as quickly as his athletic skills would allow. Captain Gordon took no pity on those of noble blood, and if his current opponent just happened to be the only living nephew of her Majesty the Queen, so much the better. Gordon's task was to ensure that his noble charge did not become the *late* nephew of the Queen.

Richard's weekly lessons with the Captain of the Guard took almost as much out of him as his nightly fencing lessons with Lord Wayne. While Wayne was twice the swordsman, introducing all manner of unique fighting skills along with his own superior swordsmanship, Gordon had the advanced experience of having fought in several campaigns in the service of the Crown. King Orrin was the third ruler under whom Gordon had served faithfully and with distinction.

"Sir Richard, you show improvement, lad!" Gordon complimented easily. Richard noticed that Gordon wasn't even breathing hard. "You've finally managed to parry the thrust to your weak side. I've tried to break through your left twice now, and each time you've successfully beaten back my attack! Excellent riposte, lad!" Richard grinned at the compliment to his immediate counterattack following his parry of Gordon's feint.

Gordon was trying to distract Richard into listening to him talk and thus lose track of the job at hand. Well, it wouldn't work this time!

Never mind that it's worked each time before, Richard amended chagrinned.

Time to try something new. Richard began his attack. He started by lunging at the fencing master, extending his sword arm and threatening with his forte. Gordon easily counter-parried, quickly moving around the opposite side of Richard's foil. He saw Richard's open side and moved in for the win. This was what Richard had been waiting for.

Richard planted his lead foot, then leaped up splitting his legs outward and upward; thus quicker than the eye could follow, when Gordon lunged forward, his sword sliced empty air. Richard's forward arc cleared over and above Gordon's head, catching the elder swordsman flatfooted. As Richard landed lightly, he immediately turned and assumed an *en garde* stance. Chivalry dictated that he wait for his opponent to recover and resume the game.

"How's that for a balestra, Captain Gordon?" Richard asked amusedly. He referred to a fencer's use of a forward hop or leap. "You *did* mention during our previous lesson that the wise swordsman knows how to incorporate a certain change of pace." Gordon gave Richard an exasperated look.

"Aye, lad, that I did. But my intention was not to have you turn this gentleman's sport into a circus sideshow."

"But Captain, you said it yourself . . . I'm but a *lad*! I *love* the circus!" Richard said grinning.

"Gentleman's sport!" Barbara's derisive voice broke over their conversation. "'Tis nothing but a means for boys to play at being men by inflicting as much pain and damage on one another!" Both men stood down temporarily and turned to Gordon's daughter.

"Barbara! Mind your tongue, girl! Or I'll have Sir Richard here challenge you to a duel with epees instead of foils."

The epees in the Wayne armory were used as dueling swords, and were each thus hewn to a deadly point. Captain Gordon used the foils as training tools only, and thus these ended in a blunt point. "Father, an epee in Dicky's hands is a danger solely to himself!" Barbara's countenance flashed a challenge in Richard's direction, daring him for a rebuttal. It seemed to Barbara that when he gazed back at her, Richard's eyes glinted like the icy blue waters of his native Solway Firth off whose shores his ancestral home lay.

Richard set his lips in a straight line and bit down hard to keep from responding in anger. Why must she provoke him so? Why must she always say things that were meant to cause him to look the fool? Richard turned away without answering and faced Gordon for their last go-round.

He had to get away from here. He had to get away from *her*. He looked over by the railing and saw that Wallace and Roy were grinning broadly as they watched the proceedings. So, she had played to those two again.

"Captain, I have an audience with Lord Wayne this morn. Let us finish the lesson so that I may arrive at the appointed time." Gordon nodded. They each assumed an en garde position then began their final bout. Richard's anger continued to fester. Gordon feinted and Richard bit. It was over in an instant. Richard nodded stiffly to Gordon.

"My thanks, Captain, for your time and continuing patience over my poor form and slow-wittedness. Now I must keep my appointment." A young page arrived to take Richard's fencing equipment. Richard turned stiffly and began the short trek back to the castle's main residence.

"Richard!" Richard paused at Barbara's call. "A word please." Richard waited where he'd stopped, not turning around. She approached him tentatively. "We have to talk," she said softly.

"What is there to talk about, milady? You said it yourself. The less that is said of my shameful conduct the better. Now if you'll excuse me, I have duties." Richard made as if to continue, when Barbara angrily grabbed his sword arm. Richard instinctively seized her wrist. Thankfully, he caught himself before he threw her head over heels.

"You should know better than that, Lady!" he hissed harshly. "You're a trained swordswoman! Your father's daughter! I just came off the training circle . . . you *know* what I'm capable of!"

"Indeed I do, Sir Knight! Therefore, if you won't speak to me civilly, you'll answer to *this*!" To Richard's shock, Barbara grabbed his sword by the hilt unsheathing it, and she immediately lunged at him. His battle instincts took over. He instantly dove and rolled; he then kicked out and swept Barbara's legs out from under her. Caught off guard she yelled in surprise, losing the sword in the process.

As she went airborne, Richard easily sprang up. Moving as if in slow motion, Richard caught the sword in his right hand, and before Barbara could hit the ground, caught her by the waist with his left; he hauled her none to gently to her feet. As time seemed to resume, she shoved him away in humiliated anger. Richard did not let go quite that easily.

"Next time you draw a sword against an unarmed opponent, milady, ensure that *unarmed* means no longer dangerous." With that he released Barbara, spun on his heel, and continued on his return to Castle Wayne, resheathing his sword in the process.

Watching his retreating back, Barbara spluttered, unable to respond. "Ooh! You . . . you . . . ooh!" Barbara spun on her own heels and stomped away, going in the opposite direction that Richard had taken.

Wallace and Roy had observed their actions and exchanged amused glances.

"How many children do you s'pose they'll have?" Wallace asked in mock seriousness.

"At least a baker's dozen," Roy responded. "Assuming they don't kill each other first." Both men slapped their raised fists in hearty amusement, and laughing took their turns at the practice ring.

****

"They've moved their itinerary up," Wayne said. "That's why Lady Selina traveled this distance alone."

They were in Wayne's private study, which overlooked the mouth of the Tyne. A balcony jutted outwards, on the edge of the sheer cliffs that dropped straight down to the rocky, churning waters of the North Sea below. The walls and floors of the study were elegantly covered with handcrafted tapestries depicting both scenes from history and from daily castle life. This was Richard's favorite room and he came here often to read and meditate.

"I was visiting friends in Gotham Town when the King's messenger arrived by ship. Their Majesties requested that I travel to Castle Wayne immediately to inform you of the change of plans. I did not have the time to hire an escort, so I decided to chance the short distance here." She paused sadly, dropping her eyes. "Because of my impatience, my retainer Roland, a dear and loyal friend, was murdered by those brigands!"

"You have our deepest sympathy, milady," Wayne said. "Richard, we must immediately send the Honor Guard to meet the Royal entourage. They should be about three days to the South of us by now. Probably staying at Fountains Abbey along the River Skell. Queen Diana is good friends with the abbey's Monsignor Aislabie. I want you to lead the Honor Guard," he added meaningfully. In other words, Wayne wanted his trusted squire, Robin, to be there in case of trouble. "Alfred, you know what to do. We must prepare a feast fit for a king . . . I know that you and the household staff will not disappoint. Richard, take Sir Wallace and Sir Roy with you . . . I want you to have our fastest swordsman and finest archer at your side when you meet their Royal Majesties."

Richard nodded; dismissed, he and Alfred left to prepare for their required duties. The Lady Selina elected to remain a moment longer.

"My lord, may I extend my warmest thanks for your hospitality. The Dark Knight and his Squire Robin surely saved my life last night, but your warm welcome to a weary traveler--"

"Milady, please . . . it is my honor and my pleasure. Being situated in the North Country upon the Tyne River, Castle Wayne's location between the Wastelands and Gotham Town to the North and the Midlands and Metropolis to the South, makes us the traveler's haven. T'would be unseemly of myself or my staff to not welcome all travelers on their long journeys." He gazed intently into Lady Selina's eyes. "Although sometimes there are certain travelers whom we welcome more than others."

Selina's eyes lit at his meaning. "Indeed, my lord," she murmured.

****

Barbara walked slowly, almost pensively through the castle gardens. For once the fragrance from the cultivated blooms did not enchant. She'd been such a fool! What was *wrong* with her? Drawing a sword on *Richard*? Probably one of the finest swordsmen in the realm? And this morning . . . when he'd *kissed* her! She'd responded . . . passionately, eagerly!

She'd *kissed* Richard . . . little Dicky! Whom she used to watch carefully because of his tendency to wander off the castle grounds as a wee lad. Nay! He was no longer Dicky . . . no longer a wee lad. This morn she'd seen only too clearly what a fine figure of a man he'd grown into. She blushed again at the searing memory of Richard standing before her practically unclothed.

"'Tis too late," she murmured. "In all likelihood, I have rightfully earned Richard's eternal scorn. I am a fool."

"Nay, milady, you are not, and I would challenge the scalawag who wouldst dare cast calumny on your good name." Barbara spun at the sound of his voice. Richard approached her slowly, the moonlight glinting off his mail. Barbara saw that Richard was dressed proudly in his full Grayson livery. "I ride south and west at the candlemark, Barbara. I could not leave Castle Wayne without first putting to right that which has come between us."

A mere arm's length separated the two young people by then.

"Richard, I--!" Barbara began, but Richard interrupted her.

"Nay, milady . . . I must speak first," he said. "I have been a knave and a scoundrel. I would not blame you, should you choose never to speak to me again. My behavior today was inexorable and unforgivable." He took her hand in his and turned a beseeching glance upon her. Barbara gasped as Richard then lowered himself to one knee, his head bowed. "But I *do* beg your forgiveness, nevertheless, Lady Barbara. I beg to be allowed return to your good graces . . . and I swear on my honor as the hereditary Chieftain of Clan Grayson and all of Dumfrieshire and Strathclyde that I shall be your sworn champion from this day forth."

"Oh, Richard, there's no need of that!" Barbara said smiling through tears, pulling him up. "The Clans Gordon and Grayson have been allies for generations. We are kinsman and kinswoman on our fathers' sides . . . some five generations removed." They stood with barely a whisper separating them. "More importantly, we have been dear friends since childhood. You have been the brother of my heart--"

"--As you have been the sister of mine!"

"--As you are now the heart of my heart," she whispered, their lips moving closer.

"--Soul of my soul," he finished. They kissed, a soft chaste kiss, ethereal as the moonlight in which they stood. When they parted an eternity later, it was as if to a world reborn. He tenderly caressed her cheek, his touch feather soft. "Before I leave, may I ask your father for your hand?" He held his breath in anticipation of her answer. At her eager nod, his face lit in reflected joy, and just as suddenly fell.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly.

"My guardianship," he explained. "I may enter into a betrothal contract, but I can't marry or come into my inheritance until I'm one and twenty." Barbara smiled.

"'T'would seem, good sir, that you and I are about to enter into the world's longest betrothal." Her smile turned impish. "It wouldn't do for me to marry a mere lad, would it now? I mean it seems only yesterday that I searched hill and dale for you after you'd yet again wandered out of the castle gates." Richard laughed softly.

"What do you mean *wandered*? I *never* wandered! I always knew what I was doing . . . I got you to come looking for me, didn't I?" They both laughed softly. Catching the glint of moonlight on her hair, Richard caught his breath. "Heart of my heart . . . soul of my soul . . . beloved sister yesterday, betrothed tonight . . . I love you, Barbara Gordon."

As he spoke, Richard slowly gathered her gently in his arms, and kissed her once again, deeply and yearningly, a kiss that would have to last them for the upcoming days spent apart.

****

Chapter Four

Richard rode at the head of the column on Nightwing. Wallace and Roy rode on either side of him. As usual, they were finding amusement in teasing Richard unmercifully.

"Even when we were children she always liked him best!" declared Roy.

"Aye! I remember that time when we stole into Cook's larder and ate the peach preserves," said Wallace. "I received such a tanning, that to this day I still think twice before I sit down!"

"And our studies . . . Barbara *always* helped him with his Latin more so than she did us!" Roy added.

"Especially in conjugations. Remember *ama*, *amas*, *am--" began Wallace. Annoyed, Richard pulled back on Nightwing's reins and interrupted him. He made an abrupt slashing motion with his gauntleted hand.

"Enough! You two missed your calling. You should have been court jesters. Now, you'd best mind your tongues," he added deadly serious. "The lady said *yes*! Any remarks made now, even in jest, are a direct insult and invite a challenge." He looked at them both in turn, his hard blue eyes narrowed. "Do you I make myself clear?"

Both Wallace and Roy swallowed.

"Of course, Richard!" "You only have our best wishes!" "Aye! The Lady Barbara is a gracious beauty." Richard nodded sharply.

"I'm riding back to check the column," he said. "Take over, Wallace!"

Wallace saluted smartly. He turned to Roy and said sotto voce, "I don't know what married life to that hellcat is going to be like . . . but I suspect that it will not be dull!" They both threw back their heads and guffawed. Wallace added, "Take the point, Sir Roy, before we say something that will result in our being skewered at the end of a Grayson claymore!"

"Aye, Sir Wallace!" Roy gave him a mock salute and spurred his horse to ride on ahead.

The column rode at a killing pace. Richard could not chance the royal party being overcome by any of the dark forces, which he and Wayne had encountered previously. Therefore, they made record time arriving at Fountain Abbey after being on the road less than sixty hours. When they cleared the hill that overlooked the abbey, Richard sent Sir Roy on ahead bearing the Wayne Honor Colors to inform His Majesty of their arrival.

Within a few minutes, the Wayne Colors, a black bird on a field of midnight blue, were hung from the gates as a sign of welcome. Three figures suddenly ran out the gates and began waving. Richard's sharp eyes made out Roy accompanied by her Royal Highness, Princess Donna; the third figure he couldn't recognize from this distance. Richard waved in salutation. Turning, he called the column forward.

"Dicky! Dicky!" Donna waved happily from the side of the graveled path as the Wayne Honor Guard rode proudly through the front gates. Richard waved and smiled, too glad to see his beloved cousin to feel annoyed at the use of the childhood nickname. Next to her stood . . . Richard did a double-take . . . the Minnow?! This fully-grown *man* couldn't be the same Prince Garth, that he remembered from childhood. Why he was as tall as Richard now!

"How now, cousin?" Garth waved grinning. "Yes, it is I . . . the Minnow . . . I've grown a bit since last we met!" The children had nicknamed Prince Garth, the Minnow, as much for his diminutive size as for his love of swimming. Richard shook his head, shot his two cousins a friendly wave, then concentrated on leading the column in a parade to present to his King.

Their Royal Majesties stood on the balcony overlooking the graveled path leading to the abbey's monastery. The column paraded smartly below, demonstrating superior horsemanship. As one they came to a halt directly below the balcony. Richard rode Nightwing to center front. In a single motion, he drew his sword and saluted his King and Queen.

"Honor Guard . . . present arms!" As one, fifty sabers flashed in the late morning sun. Holding his saber at his right shoulder, Richard turned Nightwing and rode down the column inspecting the line. He returned to center front and again saluted smartly with his saber. "Your Most Gracious Majesties, I bring you greetings from your most humble and loyal servant, Bruce Lord Wayne! This Honor Guard is presented to your Majesties to escort you on your safe journey to Castle Wayne. Do you accept this token of Lord Wayne's servitude?"

King Orrin solemnly nodded his acceptance. Queen Diana spoke for them.

"We accept this token of Lord Wayne's servitude with gratitude. But who is this handsome knight who serves as Captain of the Honor Guard? Surely this isn't my beloved sister's son . . . my own dear nephew, Dicky Grayson?" Richard thought he heard a snort, quickly smothered, coming from the ranks. Women! Why must I always be the butt of their jokes? Still this was his queen. Richard smiled weakly and bowed his head.

"Aye, Your Most Gracious Majesty. It is I, your nephew, Sir Richard Grayson." Queen Diana smiled then blew him a kiss. This time Richard heard a few more coughs and snorts from the ranks. He felt his ears burning hotly.

"Sir Richard, you may dismiss the guard . . . the monks will show them to their quarters and the stables. Please, when you're finished with your duties, join your uncle the king, and myself here in the guest quarters!"

Richard bowed his head in acquiescence. "Sergeant of the Guard!" The sergeant rode quickly to the head of the column. "Take over, sergeant. See to the horses and the men."

The noncom nodded. "I shall personally bed down Nightwing, sir . . . Never in all my life have I ever seen a finer horse than he." Richard grinned. If the sergeant were trying to get in his good graces, praising Nightwing would certainly do the trick. Richard dismounted and tossed the reins to the noncom.

"Give the old boy an extra helping of oats, Sergeant. He's certainly earned it!"

As the sergeant led Nightwing away, Donna came running up the path, her arms opened wide in welcome.

"Dicky! Oh, Dicky! I'm so happy to *see* you!" she cried. Richard ran up to her and spun her around in his arms.

"And I you, cousin!" he replied smiling. Garth came up to them and slapped Richard on the back.

"Dicky, well met, cousin! When are you going to leave that godforsaken North Country and come back to civilization and reside with us in the royal palace in Metropolis?" Richard released Donna and shook Garth's proffered hand.

"Never, cousin! For there is no more wonderful country in all the realm than that of the North . . . unless of course, you consider my ancestral home in the Lowlands." Garth rolled his eyes. He'd heard *this* before! Garth might love Richard like a brother, but he believed him to be *so* provincial!

"What news from the North Country, cousin?" Garth asked. "Do you still sit by the fields and watch the corn grow? Still spend your live long days moving rocks from a farmer's field to mend the decaying walls of Castle Wayne?"

"Aye, Your Highness, the corn grows green in the warm spring sun. Thank you for asking; your loyal subjects will rejoice in gladness when they hear of the immense interest you show about their daily toil. As for the walls of Castle Wayne . . . they have stood nigh unto twelve generations of Waynes. You need not worry, my prince, that this is the year the Wayne battlements will tumble."

Garth cleared his throat in embarrassment. Richard grinned at his royal cousin's obvious discomfiture.

"Oh, as for news . . . well, my dear cousins, I bring only the most joyful tidings. Roy! Wallace! Come, let us join my dear uncle and aunt in the guest chambers, for the news I bear are for my dearest friends and family to share!"

****

Queen Diana kissed her nephew on both cheeks at the news.

"I'm so happy for you, dear Richard, and I know that your mother and father would have heartily approved. They both thought the world of Barbara, and I wouldn't put it past my dear sister Mary that she might not have even secretly planned the whole thing."

"Oh, Mother, really," chided Donna. "How could dear Aunt Mary have planned such a thing? Dicky and Barbara were years apart then; why Barbara used to mind us children whenever we visited Graetheson Court. I remember clearly how Dicky used to drive her to distraction, always sneaking out of the castle gates!"

"Even back then our cousin was getting women to chase shamelessly after him," said Garth amusedly.

"Aye, Your Highness! Richard has all the maids in the North Country sighing in their sleep," said Roy helpfully.

"But now that I'm betrothed to the fairest maiden of them all, Roy," Dick said good-naturedly, "they'll likely turn their broken hearts in *your* direction for mending."

"Oh, really?" asked Donna icily, her chin tilted haughtily, narrowed eyes glaring at Roy. Richard and Garth exchanged amused glances. The relationship between Donna and Roy could best be described as a dog with fleas. They found each other to be a constant source of irritation, but they nonetheless loved to scratch the itch. Roy raised a single eyebrow in his usual smirk.

"What can I say, Your Highness? The ladies find me irresistible!"

"And what of me?" protested Wallace. "Am I to die of a lonely old age? Richard, you must send me my fair share!"

"Fair share of what?" The gathering turned towards the newcomer.

"Uncle Barry!" Wallace cried happily. He quickly crossed the drawing room and hugged his favorite uncle in greeting. "Well met, Uncle! How fairs my dear Aunt Iris?" Sir Barry smiled broadly, happy to see his nephew. Seeing the royal family in the room, he immediately greeted his sovereigns formally.

"Your Majesties, forgive the intrusion . . . but when I heard that my nephew was here on the Abbey's grounds--"

"No apology needed, Sir Barry," Orrin said. "The Queen and I know what it is like to greet a much beloved nephew." Orrin smiled at Richard when he said this. "Besides the Queen's Champion is entitled to interrupt the Royal Family in order to carry out his duties." Sir Barry had the reputation of being the fastest swordsman in the realm and as such had earned the title of Queen's Champion.

"And where is that speedy rascal, Roy Harper?" Sir Oliver Queen made a sudden appearance. Sir Oliver was the King's Champion and the finest archer in the entire realm. He'd raised Roy since infancy and taught him everything he knew about archery and weapons. Roy's expertise was second only to Sir Oliver's.

"Oliver! How now, King's Champion?" Roy greeted easily. "I heard up in the North Country that you missed a shot some three months past. Is there any truth to this vile rumor?"

The others held their collective breaths. Richard could suddenly hear the Guards' horses whinnying in stables, almost two hundred yards away. Sir Oliver's sky blue eyes narrowed instantly.

"I shot ten consecutive arrows into a target three hundred yards away. Each arrow sliced through the previous arrow in the bullseye . . . but one . . . one was struck by a sudden gust of wind and hit the target a hairsbreadth off center. Thus, it merely grazed the previous arrow, rather than fully slicing it."

Roy crossed his arms and studied his guardian unsympathetically. "I see . . . and what have you done to correct the error since then?" Sir Oliver's face was by now set in a deep grimace. He advanced on Roy, then when he got within an arm's length, he suddenly broke into a belly laugh and grabbed his ward by the waist, lifting him like a small child.

"Roy Harper, you rascal! I thought proximity to that old cold fish, Wayne, would cure you of your saucy tongue. I see I was wrong!" Oliver laughed happily unmindful of the Royal family's presence. "Let me look at you, lad!" Oliver held Roy at arms length. "You've grown since last we met. Aye, you're a good handsbreadth taller. And skinnier . . . don't they feed you over at Castle Wayne? Or are they too busy catching your arrows in mid-flight?"

It was Roy's turn to look discomfited. "How did you--?"

"A little night bird told me," Oliver said enigmatically. Oliver was referring to an incident that had reached almost legendary proportions in the North Country. Roy had aimed a blunt-tipped arrow at Lord Wayne in jest, and without turning, Wayne had reached his hand out at the last possible moment and caught it in mid-flight. Roy was still trying to live it down.

"He *caught* it, Oliver! Without even turning . . . he *caught* it!"

"I see . . . and what have you done to correct the error since then?" Oliver asked unsympathetically. Guardian and ward looked into each other's eyes and burst out in hearty laughter.

"Now that that's over with," Barry said, shaking his head, "how goes it, Richard? What tidings do you bring from the North Country?"

****

Chapter Five

The watch fires burned steadily along the encampment's perimeter. Richard walked in the darkness outside the welcoming light cast by the flames. As Captain of the Honor Guard, his duties seemed endless. On the first night of a bivouac he preferred to check all security measures personally rather than entrust the duty to his seconds. He'd sent Roy and Wallace to scout the countryside ahead. They were overdue, but not long enough for alarm . . . yet.

Richard knew that he was covering his nervousness by walking the perimeter and checking on his night watch, for the third time since they'd pitched camp. He came on Post Three. Richard liked to set his outer listening posts according to a six-pointed star in order to maximize his listening capability. He whistled softly and waited for the appropriate challenge.

"Constant!" hissed the sentry.

"True," replied Richard. Richard had selected a simple challenge and response phrase, his family's own motto: Constant and True. However, he'd already decided that it'd be best to change it on the morrow; he'd only picked it because he'd been unable to think of anything else at the moment.

Richard approached the sentry who was standing his post quietly, yet alertly. Richard smiled in satisfaction when he saw that it was John Dunrobin. They had been pages together in Castle Wayne before the Graysons' untimely deaths prematurely elevated Richard's status. One day he was a page, the next he was sitting out his nightlong vigil prior to taking his knightly vows. Dunrobin had remained a loyal friend throughout these years.

"Sir John, well met this moonless night," Richard said softly in greeting. "Anything to report?"

"Nay, Sir Richard," Dunrobin's smile flashed in the gloom. "If anything with two legs crawls in yonder night, then it is comprised of shadows and air. I've heard nothing save the night owl and the occasional rabbit." Richard saw with approval that Dunrobin held a crossbow cocked and ready to let fly.

"Very well, John. All other sentries report much the same as you." Richard's pensive tone alerted his friend.

"Is there something wrong, Richard?" Richard stood there in the night gazing out at the endless darkness. Everything was quiet. Everything was fine. Intellectually he knew that, but he had a feeling he couldn't shake . . . a feeling of impending dread. Something was coming. He could feel it as surely as he was standing there. Dunrobin's light touch on his shoulder startled him back.

"What--? Oh, no, no," Richard denied, shaking his head. "There's nothing wrong." He smiled and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "Just jumping at *shadows and air* I suppose. I'd best turn in. When Roy and Wallace return from their reconnaissance, please send them directly to my quarters." Dunrobin nodded and saluted smartly.

****

Richard sat at his field table writing a short communique to Wayne. When finished, he sat and stared pensively at the long, dancing shadows on the canvas walls of his tent cast by the single burning taper. Thoughts of Barbara kept coming to the fore of his consciousness: Barbara standing over him, hands on hips, scolding him for sneaking out of the castle compound yet again; Barbara throwing her head back, laughing joyously during last year's Maypole Dance, her hair entwined with fresh spring flowers; Barbara looking up him in the moonlight, her eyes expressing her love.

Richard smiled at the images and immediately took out a second sheaf of parchment, sharpened another quill, dipped it in ink, and began writing a short note to her. He'd send both missives by horse messenger at first light. As he wrote, Richard looked at the furnishings in his tent without really seeing them. He normally traveled lightly while on campaign. The interior of his tent was quite Spartan by the standards set by most nobles. He had a single cot, field table, and chair. He shared a squire with Wallace and Roy, because he hated to be fussed over by assistants.

The squire in question, Garfield walked in at this moment and cleared his throat.

"Will that be all for the night, Sir Richard? May I get you anything else prior to your turning in?"

Richard looked up and smiled. "Nay, and thank you for asking, Garfield. You'd best turn in, lad. We'll be breaking camp before first light, and you know how much Sir Wallace and Sir Roy require your careful ministrations in the morn." Garfield grimaced. He did indeed.

Unfortunately for the poor young squire, while Richard preferred to do as much for himself as possible, Wallace and Roy felt no such aversion to personal attention. Whereas all Richard required of the young lad was hot water in the mornings and evenings for shaving and washing, the other two required their meals brought to them, assistance in dressing and undressing, and just about all manner of pampering that the nobility took for granted.

Similarly, while Richard insisted on brushing and polishing his own boots, as well as, cleaning and oiling his own equipment, Wallace and Roy required that Garfield have theirs all ready before sunup.

Naturally, the young squire was exceptionally devoted to Richard. It was Richard who took the time to show him his knightly duties, spent time with him whenever possible in the fencing circle, and held him spellbound into the wee hours with tales from the Time of the Dark. Young Garfield was still a few years from his knightly vows, but he knew after whom he would model himself.

****

The shouts woke him. He was standing barefoot outside the perimeter of the encampment dressed only in a flimsy nightshirt. Wallace was holding him by his sword arm. Instinctively, Richard grabbed Wallace's wrist and in a single motion threw him head over heels. As Wallace landed on his posterior, Richard finally snapped out of his dream.

What was he doing out here? Others were soon running out towards them. Their Royal Highnesses' countenances showed deep concern. Both appeared in various states of hasty dress.

"Richard! What goes? Are you all right, cousin!?" Garth and Donna called out, their voices tinged with worry.

"Wallace! Here, let me help you up," Richard said offering Wallace his hand. As his royal cousins came up to him, it was all Richard could do to shake his head in confusion. "I do not understand. The last recollection I have is of going to bed. The next thing I know, I'm standing out here and tossing poor Wallace onto his backside."

"I'm all right, Richard, but we've got to get you back to your tent! You'll catch your death out here!" Wallace sounded just like Alfred, Richard thought amusedly, nodding distractedly. The guards who'd been alerted by Wallace's shouts, returned to their posts once satisfied that their captain was all right.

****

"Sleepwalking?" Orrin looked concerned. "This does not brook well, Richard. Your father was said to walk in his sleep when there was sorcery afoot." Richard looked at his uncle uncomprehendingly.

"I don't understand, Sire. I've ne'er heard tales of my father walking in his sleep." Orrin looked at his Queen; she nodded her head slightly. "Richard, it is high time you know of your Romany heritage." He paused. "But perhaps it is best that the Queen tell you herself." Diana raised a single eyebrow at her husband, but closed her eyes in acquiescence.

"Dear Richard," she began. "You have been raised by Lord Wayne for your own protection. The relative remoteness of Castle Wayne, Lord Wayne's own superior prowess as a swordsman, Captain Gordon's service to the Waynes and the Graysons . . . all of this added up to a safe haven for one whom we believe to be the last of the Romany sorcerers and the Emerald Guardians." She paused to let the news sink in. She needn't have bothered; she held Richard's attention completely.

"Your father, John Grayson, came to my village as a small boy. Even then, he was already remarkably gifted. He could call down the rains on parched lands, talk to animals as if he were one of them, and most importantly, he could will the Emerald Eye to do his bidding. You may imagine our astonishment to discover that not only did the Romany blood run strongly in one so young, but that an Emerald Eye had survived from the time of the Mage Wars."

"I don't understand, Your Majesty," Richard interrupted. "Why did father arrive in your village in the first place?"

"Because, dear nephew, my village is the last stronghold of the Amazon warrior women of legend. Generations before the time of the Great Mage War, our paradise island home in the Middle Sea was destroyed by the Macedonian legions. The last survivors found their way to Oa, a small storm-tossed island off the northeastern coast of Caledonia. There they were made welcome by a small enclave of the Order of Emerald Guardians. As warriors we promised our swords in the service of the Guardians because of their hospitality." She smiled.

"They turned us down . . . however, their Abbot, Father Jordan requested that we help others in distress and to offer safe haven to those in need. When Mordant's evil spread through the realm, the Emerald Guardians asked us to go out amongst Man's realm and seek others whom might be of assistance in the continuous war against the Forces of Darkness. The Guardians had already recruited the last of the wandering Romanys who lived in the foothills that separated the Caledonian Lowlands from the High Country to the North. They knew that once they faced off against Mordant's power that they would not be returning; however, they assured us that when the need arose again, others would follow." Richard and his cousins were spellbound by her story.

"About five and forty years ago, a small lad, barely knee high to a badger, wandered into our village. He was hungry, lost, and alone. He said that he and his family had been at sea returning to their home in the Lowlands, when their vessel was set upon by a sudden storm. The storm was unnatural in its make, for the lad sensed a malevolence in it that shook him to the very core . . . What frightened him even more so was that he *felt* the evil malignancy was after him. His presence was endangering the lives of the other passengers, including his beloved mother and father. Therefore, this small, frightened boy gave the ultimate sacrifice. He threw himself overboard in order to save the others. As soon as the vessel was beyond his reach, the storm abated, and the sea calmed." She shook her head in amazement.

"The lad managed to survive four days and nights out at sea. He was eventually washed on our shores and somehow dragged himself to our simple fishing village. We can only surmise that an outside power somehow saw to his safety. After a few days, he managed to regain sufficient strength to relate his tale to us. Naturally, we immediately dispatched a courier to his family's estate to inform them of his survival. Meanwhile, the lad began to wander through our small rugged island, exploring its many secrets. Eventually, he discovered the Emerald Guardians' monastery, and inexplicably drawn to it, he also found the Emerald Eye which now hangs around your neck." Richard unconsciously grabbed the Emerald Eye and felt its comforting warmth.

"Somehow, the Eye spoke to him. He was able to see beyond our physical realm to other nether realms. He knew that Mordant was coming soon, within a generation, and that we had to prepare. He also knew that he would not live to do final battle with the Evil One, but that another more powerful than he would emerge within the generation . . . his own son. You Richard . . . the last true scion of a Romany sorcerer with the heart of an Amazon warrior . . . the last of the Emerald Chosen." Diana paused dramatically.

"On the day of your Christening when we, your family, welcomed you into the service of Our Heavenly Father, your father's amulet began to glow. It quickly enveloped the interior of Melrose Abbey the traditional cathedral where all Clan Grayson heirs have been christened for generations." She paused in remembrance.

"A voice . . . and yet not a voice . . . spoke. It . . . he . . . she . . . addressed you . . .

****

"Richard John Grayson, you are the final hope of all Mankind . . . you are the Emerald Chosen . . . on you rests the power of the Emerald Warrior . . . Who is the Chosen's Champion?" Bruce Lord Wayne stepped forward.

"I am."

"Yes . . . you have been well chosen, Bruce Wayne . . . in you burn the fires of loyalty, integrity, and honor . . . rough hewn to perfection. You are the Dark Knight selected to protect the Chosen, the Emerald Warrior. You must prepare the child for the coming war against the Forces of Darkness. Within him lies the power of a thousand suns to cast Light upon the gathering Darkness; however, he must survive to his majority because the Dark seeks to extinguish the Light."

"I don't understand. How can *I* prepare him for such an event? I am but a man . . . " Wayne protested.

"And that is why you are the Chosen's Champion. For why should one who will wield the powers of the Old Gods take up the mantle to protect mere mortals if he doesn't learn to love what he fights for? It shall be your task to teach him to love his fellow man and to desire above all else to be Mankind's protector. For only then will the Emerald Warrior within awaken ready to do battle against the Heart of Darkness."

****

Diana continued her tale.

"Outside, the mysterious voice's pronouncement was greeted by the thundering rage of the Evil One. The skies turned black and opened as if in anger! It was if nature herself had been turned against us. We knew then that you had to be protected at all costs. Lord Wayne, your godfather and your father's best friend from childhood, swore fealty to the Crown and the Graysons by agreeing to take over as your personal guardian until the need arose when you'd be called upon to use your long dormant mage powers. The Emerald Eye calls you now, my dear nephew. It is time that you look inward and call forth that which is within you."

Richard sat stunned. Unconsciously, he fingered the Emerald Eye; as always, he felt a warmth spread from his fingertips and lightly envelop his entire being. He wanted to disbelieve his aunt's words, but knew deep inside that they were true. Almost effortlessly, he felt himself being drawn inwardly . . . the royal field headquarters began to dissolve around him, along with his cousins and his aunt and uncle . . .

****

"Welcome, Emerald Chosen," the solemn voice greets. "'Tis time." He opens his eyes. He is in a darkened corridor; he wishes for a light and suddenly a green glowing ember appears above and to his right. He blinks in the unexpected brightness. "Do not be afraid, Chosen . . . what you will witness are but shadows and air . . . they can neither see you nor hurt you. You will witness that which has past . . . and that which is yet to be."

"Where am I?" he asks. No answer is forthcoming. He follows the corridor to its end. He comes upon a closed door. He tries it but it is locked. "Now what?"

"Go through the door, Chosen," the voice whispers. "Simply will your body to walk through . . . the door has no substance; it is a mere shadow."

"The door has no substance," he whispers. "It is a shadow . . . my hand passes as through nothingness." As he says it, he tentatively reaches his hand out, and it quickly goes through the door up to his forearm. He pulls back in sudden panic!

"Be not afraid, Chosen. You are protected by the Emerald Eye . . . the power of the Emerald Warrior . . . and your own Romany blood." He takes several calming breaths, surreptitiously reaches for the Emerald Eye, then boldly steps through the door. He finds himself on the other side.

And immediately turns his head away in horror!

For he has walked into a place of unspeakable abominations. The missing children are here . . . each undergoing some torture more abhorrent than the previous. A child of no more than two summers lies on a table, slit from sternum to lower abdomen. The child's lifeless eyes stare out at him, reflecting the terror undergone his last few days in this realm. A creature in blood red robes carefully collects the child's blood in a vat; another almost lovingly removes his heart and each of his internal organs.

NO-OOO! He screams in his mind! NO-OOO! Please . . . my God . . . dear God in heaven . . . please! No more! No more!

He looks around in desperation. They can't *all* be dead! They can't! They CAN'T! He suddenly feels the glowing spark of life . . . weak but still alive. Over there! By the far wall . . . a young girl . . . about twelve. Her eyes are dull; the life force is weak within her, but it is there. He sees that she is hooked to some vile machinery that is pumping her life's blood from her very veins! He reaches to disconnect the evil contrivance, but his fingers go through it.

NO! Please, help me . . ! What can I do . . ? Please, let me help . . ! I've got to help her . . ! Help me help her . . !

He is on his knees in supplication to the heavens above . . . to the disembodied voice . . . to the Emerald Eye . . . to his beloved mother and father . . . to anyone who will listen to his heartfelt pleas.

"Are these shadows of the past? Or are these poor children even now being destined to meet this unspeakable fate?" No answer. "Please! I must know! Can I still *stop* this? Tell me . . . I beg you . . . tell me . . . "

The voice echoes softly in his head. "You cannot change that which has past . . . but you still have time to stop that which is yet to be."

He feels eyes upon him. He slowly raises his head and sees the hapless girl-child's eyes focus and look straight at him . . . she sees him . . . she can see him.

"Dear God in heaven, you can see me . . . " he says horrified.

"Help me," she whispers. "Please, help me . . . " Her blue eyes glaze over. Her life force expires.

He screams.

****

"Richard! Richard! You're here . . . you're safe!" Donna's voice cut through the screams. Who was screaming? Whoever it was sounded like an animal being tortured. Why didn't somebody make him stop screaming? Why . . ? The screaming suddenly stopped. He couldn't breathe! He couldn't see . . . Why was everything so dark? What was happening?

He opened his eyes; they teared against the sudden light.

Roy and Wallace were each practically sitting on top of him. Garth was trying to hold back his arms. Wallace had the looks of an ugly bruise spreading from his left eye down his cheek. He was firmly holding his hand over Richard's mouth. Coming to his senses suddenly, Richard stopped thrashing and attempted to take slow, measured breaths; he soon began to calm down.

Dazed, he looked around at his concerned family and friends. Wallace carefully removed his hand.

"What happened? What's going on?" Richard's friends looked relieved at his change in demeanor. Roy and Wallace began to climb off, when suddenly the nightmares that he'd witnessed came back to the fore. His face took on a horrified haunted look. Roy and Wallace immediately took up their positions again.

Richard didn't fight them this time. Instead, he turned his head away from them and began openly weeping unashamedly. With a cry, Donna shooed everybody away from her beloved cousin and took him gently in her arms.

"Oh, Richard . . . whatever it is, let us help you. Please, dearest cousin, you're breaking my heart. What can we do to help?" Richard held onto his cousin and cried helplessly in her arms. He hadn't sobbed this hard since news of his parents' deaths reached him all those years ago. Eventually, the storm passed and he lay quietly in her arms for a few more moments. Finally, swallowing and gathering his inner strength, Richard broke their contact first.

"Thank you, my dearest cousin . . . I shall never forget your kindness in my hour of deepest, darkest despair. But I have indulged in personal grief too long. It is time." Richard looked sadly at his beloved aunt and uncle. He stood slowly, then walked toward his King and Queen and kneeled before them.

"It is time, Your Majesties. Mordant even now crosses the Lowlands, burning and killing everything that is within his path. Within the fortnight, Graetheson Court will fall to his fires of destruction." Donna gasped.

"Oh, Richard . . . No! Not Graetheson Court! Your home!"

"Aye, Your Highness . . . she falls, but do not despair. Homes can be rebuilt. It is the coming loss of countless human lives that causes me grief; however, that which is to be that has yet to happen, may yet *not* be! And that is what we must prevent, Majesties. The loss of countless innocent human lives . . . the loss of the most innocent amongst us . . . the children!" At the look of horror on the faces of their Majesties, Richard nodded sadly. "Aye, Majesties . . . Mordant seeks human sacrifice . . . and the sacrifice he seeks is that of the blood of our innocent children."

Queen Diana, Amazon warrior-princess, gasped in shock. She quickly turned to her husband, who gently took her in his arms momentarily until she could regain her composure. "What can we do to help, nephew?" King Orrin asked.

"Uncle, we must break camp immediately and head North. We must send word to Wayne Castle and to the main body of your forces, which are still garrisoned in Metropolis that we are at war. Mordant crosses the Lowlands within the fortnight and amasses his Dark Legions a full three days ride north of Wayne Castle!" Richard paused and looked intently at his aunt and uncle.

"And I . . . I must learn the secrets of the Emerald Eye between now and when we face Mordant and his Armies of the Night."

****

Chapter Six

Richard stood in front of Roy and Wallace; he'd selected Roy to ride to Castle Wayne and Wallace to ride south to Metropolis.

"You will each be given four of our fastest horses apiece . . . three of the steeds are to be used as remounts." He gave them each a hard glare. "You are to ride at full gallop . . . You will stop to change horses only when the one being ridden is so spent, it collapses."

Roy and Wallace looked at him in shock, but nodded their heads in grim understanding. The lives of countless people . . . countless children . . . were being entrusted to them. They had to be willing to sacrifice their horses in order to carry out their desperate mission . . .

Roy's arrival at Castle Wayne was met with shock. The horse he'd been riding was nearly spent. It was his last; he'd lost the third horse well over four hours ago. As they rode through the castle gates, his loyal steed, as if realizing he'd accomplished his mission, collapsed.

As his horse fell under him, Roy released his stirrups and jumped clear. He rolled a few times and finally came to a stop. Exhausted he crawled slowly to where Wind had fallen. As Wind whinnied to his master, Roy gently lifted his head and stroked him one last time. Wind gave a final whinny and died.

"Thank you, old boy . . . You're the real hero today. You and your three companions. You each gave your life so that innocent lives might be saved." He bowed his head in silent prayer. Then shaking himself back to reality, Roy stood unsteadily and began walking toward the Castle's main hall.

"Sir Roy!" Roy turned at the sound of his name. "What is the meaning of this? You rode a horse to death? Lord Wayne shall hear about this outrage!" Captain Gordon had walked up him, shouting in anger. Roy nodded his head tiredly.

"Aye, Captain Gordon, Lord Wayne will hear of this vile deed, and of others even more so. I have messages from Sir Richard and their Majesties that require Lord Wayne's immediate attention."

Gordon looked disbelievingly at the young knight. Then reluctantly nodded his head. Roy Harper might be young and reckless at times, but he had never mistreated an animal in Gordon's recollection. No, these must be dire tidings indeed.

"Very well, Roy," Gordon agreed. "Let us away to the main hall." Roy nodded.

****

The message from their Majesties galvanized Castle Wayne into action. Wayne immediately ordered Alfred to set up a hospital. Lady Selina seemed to know something about the healing arts and had volunteered to stay and help. Wayne's experience with war was that the sooner the wounded were transported to clean facilities the greater their chances of survival. His staff surgeon and apothecary's assistant would accompany them to the front lines. There they'd set up a field hospital, but as soon as the wounded were stable enough for traveling, they'd be sent back to Castle Wayne for recuperation.

Wayne also ordered temporary housing for the inevitable refugees that war always displaced. Castle Wayne's location between the armies to the north and the capital city to the south would make it a refugee's safe haven. Field hands were working around the clock bringing in whatever feed and food crops that were ready for storage. In some cases, they were harvesting crops that hadn't reached maturity. These would be set up in special drying areas and hopefully would prove useful as feed, perhaps.

"That is, if Castle Wayne still stands after the coming battle," Wayne said grimly. He stood on his balcony overlooking the Tyne. All those years ago when he'd accepted the guardianship of his best friends' son seemed to have passed in a blink. Wayne's whole existence since Richard's arrival at Castle Wayne had been devoted to the training of the young man whom he'd grown to regard as his own son. "Will you be ready, Richard?" he wondered aloud, then amended, "*Are* you ready, son?"

****

"Don't be ridiculous, Barbara!" Gordon said. He was distracted by the countless details that needed checking out. "You are *not* going into battle! Just who do you think you are? Some kind of Amazon warrior? You are a Gordon! And Gordon women support their men from the sidelines. Now run along and help Alfred set up the hospital. I'm busy!"

Gordon stomped away, marking his checklist as he walked. Barbara stood in the middle of the mass of confusion of men, women, and children who were pushing, pulling, or otherwise hauling carts, horses, other farm animals, and all manner of materials.

"Hey, miss!" "Please, make way there, milady!" "Lady Barbara, what are you doing in the middle of the street? You'll be killed for sure!" Barbara turned despondently and began walking towards the main hall, when she suddenly stopped. This caused a chain reaction behind her that resulted in several carts being jammed together, men and women shouting in anger, and finally a fistfight breaking out. Barbara, however, was oblivious to the whole thing.

Smiling suddenly she lifted her riding skirt and ran to the main hall, quickly making her way up towards Richard's apartments. She hurried down the hallway that led to Richard's private quarters. Hearing voices coming from the opposite direction, she snatched her kerchief from her neck and began dusting the paintings that hung along the hall. She kept her back to the two women who passed by her.

"And he is just so handsome with his raven hair and blue eyes," sighed one.

"Aye, but he is promised to another now," despaired the other.

"But not for lack of trying on *my* part, I assure you," the first one said. "I practically removed my bodice in his presence, and you know what the young gentleman said?"

"No! What?" prompted her companion.

"My lady, I'm sure you'll catch your death out here, dressed like that. Please, take my cloak . . . I have another!" She laughed. "What could I do but take his cloak? I *still* have it!"

"Well, at least you have something of Sir Richard's. All I have left are my dreams . . . " Their voices quickly faded down the hall.

Barbara snorted after they were safely out of earshot. She'd been a witness to many of these young maids' overtures upon Richard. At the time she hadn't understood why they'd so greatly annoyed her; or, perhaps, she had known but was unable or unwilling to admit it to herself. When she thought of Richard now, it seemed as if she'd been in love with him all of her life. Her feelings for him had changed so gradually and over such a long period of time, that she couldn't recall a single moment when she didn't love him.

She smiled radiantly in sudden happiness. Barbara couldn't blame any of those poor girls anymore for throwing themselves so brazenly at her Richard. If she hadn't been hiding her true feelings for him from herself, she might've offered herself up to him a long time ago, too. Now, every time Barbara thought of Richard, her whole being just seemed to light up with an inner glow. If this was love, then everyone should experience it; it was just too wonderful for words.

Her soaring spirits suddenly came crashing down. If only they hadn't discovered their mutual love on the eve of war. In a state of despair, Barbara sneaked into Richard's quarters. She quickly made her way to his wardrobe. Opening it, she looked for anything that might prove as a suitable disguise for her. Richard and she were the about same height, but it went without saying that his clothing would be rather large for her. Nevertheless, she began to rummage through his wardrobe.

Barbara quickly found clothing that would suit her needs: the simple homespun woolen trousers that Richard preferred for every day use and an overly large linen shirt and leather jerkin that laced from the front. She found the sleeves for the shirt and quickly laced them to the shoulder eyelets. The too large shirt and jerkin would help hide her gender from curious eyes. Luckily she was wearing her own riding boots already; she'd been exercising her horse that morning when she'd accosted Captain Gordon.

Barbara caught her reflection in the dresser mirror. "I look like a maid dressed in men's trousers," she groused. She looked thoughtfully at her waist-length hair. A pair of cutting shears lay on Richard's dresser. "Should I do it?" she asked herself aloud. She shook out her hair to its full length. "*Could* I do it?" She carefully curled a strand in her finger. "Richard will think that he's gotten himself betrothed to a lunatic!" She shrugged in resignation. "He'll think that anyway when he sees me dressed in his trousers!" She grabbed the cutting shears with new determination. "He'll probably drop me off at Arkham Asylum in Gotham Town personally!"

Voices outside immediately froze her in place. She saw the door handle move. Ohmygod, they were coming in here! She quickly climbed into the wardrobe and crouched as low as she possibly could. Who else would come into Richard's chamber while he was away? Who besides Alfred, anyway? And neither of the voices she heard sounded even remotely like Alfred.

On an impulse, Barbara cracked the wardrobe's door slightly open. The voices were clearer. Male and female. Oh no! thought Barbara. Please don't tell me that I'm about to witness two lovers sneaking a liaison in Richard's rooms? They were not in line of sight to her so she couldn't see who they were.

"I tell you this is ridiculously dangerous! Do you know what they can do to us if we're discovered together?" the woman's voice sounded angry.

"Yes, my dear. They'll suspect that we were having some sort of tryst," he said, unconcernedly. As he spoke, Barbara thought that the man's voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place the woman's voice. She listened carefully as he continued.

"And why shouldn't we? You are a serving maid who has willingly offered herself to any man looking for a tumble in the hayloft!" At this announcement the male moved into Barbara's line of sight. It was Rapier! The King's messenger who'd arrived almost a week past now. But who was the woman? At that moment, Bess walked into her line of vision.

What were Rapier and Bess doing in Richard's chambers? And why would getting caught together be dangerous for them?

"You're a fool, Rapier. Now what is so all-consuming important that it cannot wait?" Barbara noticed that Bess' spoken English had improved considerably. She no longer sounded like a mere serving girl. Bess looked at Rapier impatiently. Rapier's eyes narrowed in anger. He grabbed her violently by the arms and held her closely to him.

"I'll tell you what's so important. The Dark Lord wants something that is close to Sir Richard in order to use against him. Something that he has worn close to his body . . . like the Emerald Eye, although that's out of the question now, since he never removes it. The Dark Lord is not happy with you, my dear. You said that you'd be able to seduce Richard and obtain it. It seems, however, that Sir Richard finds you completely resistible."

Bess' beautiful features contorted into an ugly mask of hatred. Rapier grinned mockingly.

"Our Lord frowns on failure as you know; however, perhaps you can still make it up to our Master, by obtaining a suitable substitute . . . say, a religious medal or crucifix. You know these young knights . . . They actually believe in all of this chivalrous nonsense about how their knightly prowess is due to a direct intercession of their Heavenly Father." Rapier shrugged unconcernedly. "Even a handkerchief or a glove could work."

"Very well," Bess said, pulling herself free from Rapier's grasp. "You search the wardrobe, while I look on his dresser for any jewelry that he might have worn recently." At Bess' words, Barbara immediately crouched further inside the wardrobe. She saw a cloak hanging neatly on its hook. She took it and quickly covered herself, then burrowed even deeper into the clothing. Her heart pounding rapidly, her blood rushing in her ears, Barbara held her breath and sat as still as she could.

"Ah, what about this?" Rapier called to Bess.

"What about what?" she asked annoyed.

"His cloak. He surely must hold it carefully about himself during cold winter days."

"Don't be a fool, Rapier," Bess replied scornfully. "A cloak is worn as the outermost piece of clothing. The chances of it touching Sir Richard sufficiently for our Dark Lord's necromancy to work are very slim." Barbara felt a sudden surge of relief wash over her.

"Perhaps you're right, Bess," Rapier said. "But then, it is an extremely becoming color. Let me see how it looks on me!" He pulled the cloak off of Barbara and stopped surprised. He stared into Barbara's startled green eyes, and slowly began to grin. "Well, well, well . . . what do we have here?" he asked amused.

"What? What do you have?" Bess asked. She moved in closer and gasped in shock.

"I think I have just found exactly what our Dark Lord ordered . . . something very near and dear to our young Sir Richard . . ! The Emerald Chosen's Chosen!" Rapier began laughing at his own cleverness. Bess soon joined him.

****

Wallace stumbled on the uneven dirt road. He'd lost his last mount about ten miles back and had been on foot since daybreak. He took a sip from his water-skin. The contents were woefully low. His water had to last him several more hours. Metropolis was still another full-day's walk. He couldn't fail; the fate of Avalon depended on him. And the children . . . Richard had told him about the children . . .

"Fare thee well, Wallace," Richard said looking up him. "God speed!" Wallace saluted smartly then set off for Metropolis. He'd left feeling so proud and confident, so self-assured of success, but now he was in a near state of despair. King Orrin needed his garrison. His deplorably undermanned army was marching north to engage an inhuman enemy.

He *couldn't* fail . . ! He *wouldn't* fail . . ! His legs faltered . . . his knees gave way . . . darkness consumed him . . .

****

As consciousness seeped slowly back, Barbara assessed her situation. She felt herself being jostled uncomfortably. She was moving, then, probably in a carriage or a cart. She carefully slitted her eyes open. She was enveloped in total darkness; the air felt quite close and uncomfortably hot. She deduced that she was probably under some kind of tarpaulin. She was bound hand and foot and gagged as well. She felt like a plump goose about to be offered up for a Twelfth Night feast.

She fought like a wildcat, but was no match for the both of them. Rapier quickly placed a cloth over her mouth and she instantly lost consciousness. Her neck, legs and arms were stiff and cramped. She must have been like this for several hours at least. Had she been missed yet? Was anyone searching for her? She suddenly thought of Richard. Would she ever see him again?

She remembered the reason for her capture: They wanted her to get to him. Barbara began praying fervently that she never saw her betrothed again.

****

The savory smells of home cooking wended their way into his subconscious. Spices . . . thyme, rosemary . . . Aunt Iris used to cook her chicken soup with these spices. He felt suddenly homesick. He hadn't seen his aunt in several months. He opened his eyes. He was in a simple one-room cabin, lying on its sole bed. He looked across the room. An older gentleman sat on a rocking chair, quietly enjoying a pipe. A young girl stood by the hearth, diligently stirring a pot, then checking on the contents of a pan lying in the burning embers, then stirring and tasting from several more.

She seemed impossibly young to be able to orchestrate such a complicated symphony. He watched quietly for a few moments more, enjoying her virtuosity. Then, noticing his parched throat he asked for water. Or at least, that's what he had intended to do. What he actually did was utter an incomprehensible croak that startled his two benefactors.

"Here now," the young girl said smiling. "He's awake, Grampa! Would you care for a drink?" He nodded his head eagerly. She hurried to the table and carefully ladled water from a bucket into a cup. As she held the cup to his lips, Wallace noticed that it was chipped. It had a thin gold filament around the rim and a series of delicate pink flowers encircling it. He didn't see any other cups in the open. Could this be their only one?

Wallace didn't care at the moment. He was so grateful for the water, he gulped it down in two swallows. "Please, may I have some more?" She nodded eagerly and soon returned with a second cup of water. Wallace sat up and carefully took the prized cup in his hands. He drank a bit slower this time, savoring the feel of the soothing water in his mouth and throat. When he was finally finished, he thanked his hosts.

"Where am I," he asked. "How far am I from Metropolis?"

"You're in Metropolis," the girl replied. "Or, at least, in the outskirts. Grampa and I found you about a half-day's ride from town. We put you in our cart and brought you home with us." She shrugged. "We figured that you must've been on your way into town anyway."

Wallace smiled gratefully. "I am most beholden to you and your grandfather, Miss . . ?"

"Oh, I'm no Miss, sir . . . I'm just a serving girl who takes care of her Grampa. Me name's Freyja." She curtsied shyly. Wallace smiled, stood and bowed a bit unsteadily.

"I'm honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Freyja. I am Sir Wallace West, currently in the service of Bruce Lord Wayne. I am on urgent King's business, Lady. Please can you show me where the King's garrison is located? I have never been to the capital city before."

Freyja blushed furiously. "May I, Grampa?"

Wallace spoke up. "Please, sir . . . I am on urgent King's business! I must away immediately to the King's garrison. Will you help, sir?"

"Aye," the old man replied nodding. "I served under King Orrin's own grandfather, Good King Athelwulf, when he fought against the Roman incursions. He was a good king, that one . . . united the Angles and the Saxons and successfully repelled numerous invasions from the mainland!" He turned to his granddaughter. "Freyja, take young Sir Wallace to the garrison. Lad, whatever help lies within our power to give is yours."

"Sir, I don't even know your name. Please, I must know to whom I am indebted!"

"My name is Eadred Athelstan . . . a goodly Saxon name, I wager. My great-great grandfather sailed the seas with the Norsemen," he added proudly. "But the Old Saxon ways are dying, lad. We no longer sail on dragon ships to discover and conquer new lands; we are farmers, or as in my case, an old cobbler who sits by the fire dreaming of the old days, waiting to die." He turned sadly away and sat back down in his rocker.

Wallace didn't know what to say. He looked at Freyja who was looking sadly at her grandfather. He reached his hand out and touched her arm tentatively. She turned tear-brimmed eyes to him, then just as quickly looked away.

"Let us hurry," she said. "The sun will set shortly."

They left quickly.

****

Chapter Seven

"Missing! What do you *mean* my Barbara is missing?" Gordon shouted. Wayne returned Gordon's glare steadily.

"Exactly what I said, Captain Gordon. Lady Barbara has not been seen by any of the household staff since mid-morn today. When is the last time you spoke with her?"

"A little before mid-morn," Gordon answered, shaking his head. "I was too busy to notice the exact angle of the sun. She approached me with this nonsense about accompanying us into battle. I told her to run along, and help Alfred set up the hospital."

Wayne's attention pricked suddenly when Gordon mentioned that Barbara wanted to join the frontline troops.

"Captain, I do not wish to cause undue alarm, but if Lady Barbara's intention was to join the troop, it's possible that she might have found a way to succeed." Gordon shook his head, not understanding.

"The household staff who saw her this morning, said that she was in the corridor immediately outside Richard's apartments. They didn't think anything of it at the time, but they said that she was busy dusting the portraits in the hallway."

Gordon shrugged his shoulders. "So? Barbara is not adverse to doing common household chores."

"No, but those portraits were dusted just yesterday." Gordon's eyes widened. "Furthermore, Alfred went into Richard's chambers to see if there was any equipment or clothing that Richard could use while he's on campaign. Alfred had intended on packing some to send him when the castle garrison departs. There were several items of clothing missing . . . Items that Alfred *knows* Richard didn't take with him, because Alfred helped him pack earlier!"

Gordon felt his shoulders sagging.

"Lord Wayne, you don't think that Barbara might've left already? Dressed in men's clothing?"

"I'm only saying that it is a distinct possibility," Wayne replied.

****

As King Orrin's forces moved north, the remainder of Castle Wayne's garrison prepared rapidly for deployment. Captain Gordon recruited every able-bodied man in the district capable of wielding a weapon. Volunteers from throughout the area were reporting hourly. Lord Wayne was a popular master who oversaw his keep both fairly and compassionately. There was many a family who had managed to make it through hard times because he always evenly distributed food and other necessary items during times of need.

Refugees were streaming through the castle gates in increasing numbers. Most stopped just long enough to rest and beg for supplies before they continued on their journey south to the Capital City of Metropolis. Many had abandoned their homes with little more than their clothes on their backs. They told tales of the wholesale slaughter of entire villages, of burning, and pillaging. However, the worst tales involved the disappearances of the children. Stories were being circulated like wildfire of children being rounded up like cattle and being taken for whatever evil necromancy Mordant had devised.

Furthermore, word had spread of the razing of Graetheson lands. Young Sir Richard was extremely popular amongst the locals; he was openly friendly, and many were the times that he had personally helped out in the fields during haying season. And even though he could have his pick of any young maiden in the district, he never forced his attentions on any of them, much to the maids' chagrin but to their parents' gratitude. He was a true gentleman, who treated all with equal dignity . . .

"We ride day after the morrow before first light," Wayne said. He and Selina stood outside on his balcony under a canopy of stars. "I'm leading the advance party . . . archers, foot soldiers, mounted knights . . . the remainder of the garrison. Captain Gordon will follow with the rear echelon in another two days. He hates it, of course, but I need someone strong enough to control all of the noncombatants who will be accompanying us."

"Noncombatants?" Selina asked.

"Aye, Lady," Wayne said sighing. "Unfortunately, a full-scale war cannot be fought with only trumpets and swords. For every soldier I have in battle, my marshals estimate at least four noncombatants are required to support his every need: blacksmiths, cooks, physicians, priests . . . the list is endless. Also, the new recruits need to be trained in a very short period. Gordon is the only person in whom I would entrust the lives of so many farmers and tradesmen. He will ensure that each man is given the ability to survive at least the first few minutes of battle. After that, it's up to God and each man's own desire to live to see the next sunrise!"

He paused, smiling. "Gordon will lead his raw troops a bit slower in order to train them as they march. I envy them not. He is as enraged as a mountain lion in not accompanying the lead party! I'm afraid that he will definitely make his feelings known to our new soldiers during their training sessions!"

Selina's eyes smiled at the image of Gordon terrorizing the trainees. Then changing the conversation, she asked worriedly, "Any news of the Lady Barbara?" Wayne shook his head. His hands grasped the balcony's railing. Selina saw his shoulder muscles bunching under his brocaded overcoat. Wayne stared out upon the dark waters of the North Sea for so long that Selina wondered if he'd dismissed her. Finally, he spoke in his normal low tones without turning.

"I've known Capta