The Second Circlet: The Old Places - 5. Segment 5:
The Lady of the Lake

They had journeyed from Ireland to Wales by sea and air. Now, they approached their destination by land and on foot no less.

Sean thought it very peculiar that with all the technological advancements in transportation that had transpired in the last hundred years, they still had to make it to this lake by hiking!

Fortunately, the day was quite balmy with actual cloudy almost-sunshine, and a wind that was not of a kind to cut through a soul like Brian Boru's gleaming sword! It was chill enough, however, to make Sean greatly appreciative of his wool jacket! Even on the balmiest days, the Welsh Uplands is not a cozy place. 14C in summer is a normal temperature in Snowdonia where this strange band of trekkers was currently and it was not summer just yet!

That this lake of Joraan's was called 'The Jewel' seemed a bit of a lark to Sean. He couldn't imagine anything about this countryside that could be so aptly named except, perhaps, as an ironic joke. It was not nearly green enough for his tastes. The relentless grey and brown of the bare stony hills made Sean think of far away desolate places as seen on BBC documentaries narrated by Richard Attenborough. He thought of places in Mongolia or even Afghanistan that might bare a similarity in charm! Aye, there may be green enough in the gouged out valleys about, but the bare hills were alien to him! Ireland did not sport such miserably high places where things did not wish to grow!

Sean tugged a healthy sip from his sparse flask of whiskey and savoured the heat of it as it slipped smoothly down his throat. As it sparked a spreading warmth from his stomach outwards, Sean shivered invigoratingly! Whiskey was a fine magic and it was all he needed at times to stave off colds both physical and mental. Any magic of any other kind he was happy not to bother with.

"Where's ya charity, Sean, me lad? Have you enough of a snuff for me too, aye?" The strangely musical timbre of Joraan's voice chimed next to him. Sean looked down and saw two eyes staring up at him that seemed to have the same green hypnotic effect that cat's eyes have when they are begging for a kipper. The charm of them was irresistible, much to Sean's chagrin since he knew that once the flask was handed down to the greedy leprechaun, he'd have no more liquid heat to melt his bones.

Sean, however, did hand down the flask and yes Joraan emptied it and handed it back to Sean . . . completely full!

"Ahhhhh, but that hit the spot and most cunningly! I certainly needed a belt. Wales always gets me . . . jittery." Joraan remarked in a way that made Sean most uneasy!

"Why for? There's naught but sparse grass and slate as far as the eye can see! What's here to be giving you the jitters?" Sean asked with an edge of worry in his voice. Moira picked up on this and turned to look at him with concern.

"That's just the thing . . . 'naught but grass and slate as far as the eye can see!' This Eastern part of Avalon was denuded worse than our Western part in Ireland. When 'Britannia' and 'Hibernia' were one land-mass, all of this region had been covered in forest! Now look it!" Joraan reflected dismally as he looked toward My'n for confirmation and comfort. But, My'n didn't seem to be paying any attention at all! Since Viviane had given him one of her smart phones, My'n had been lost in the thing never looking up once! He looked, for all the world, like the part he was playing: a bored teenager taking refuge in his social media dealings.

"Wait, twas it true then? Britain and Ireland had been one large landmass at one time in your living experience?" Moira found this incredible! This just continued to point to Joraan's immense age! To be so very ancient and yet so seemingly 'present' in the moment seemed to be an impossible dichotomy for Moira to reconcile! Her graduate studies in ancient geology and geography only pointed to a well-accepted theory that all the world's landmass had once been one huge continent called Pangea! Suspicions had always been that the islands of Britannia and Hibernia had once been connected to a preexisting micro-continent called, lyrically enough, Avalonia! After the rifting events of the ancient Earth, Avalonia had been broken up and its parts became Ireland, Wales, Southern England, the Flemish coast, and, oddly enough portions of Morocco and Spain!

"Heavens above, Moira, Darlin'! How the hell old do ya think I am?" Joraan's look of consternation made Moira giggle despite herself.

"Laugh if you like, but . . . no! I am not older than the blasted Dinosaurs! We only had stories and legends that we once told that must have had their origin in older times with elder beings far older than the Sídhe or the Fae. Possibly the gods themselves!" Joraan said earnestly.

"Gods? Which ones? There's the Norse ones, the Olympians, the Celtic ones, the Egyptian ones, and, of course, the vast pantheon of the Hindus!" Viviane chimed in brightly from nowhere. Oddly, that was the only thing that could get My'n to look up from his new toy. He had a strange look of bewilderment and consternation all rolled into one! Was he offended that Joraan had spoken of 'gods' other than the ones they both knew of in their own knowledge of such things?

" 'Gods,' Viviane, me Lass." Joraan made quote marks with his long and delicate fingers. Moira was concerned that Viviane might be looking closely and notice that Joraan and My'n only sported three fingers on each hand beside their thumbs! But, to Moira's relief, this Viviane didn't seem to notice as she was so wrapped up in her own peculiar musings.

For someone so young, she was knowledgeable about things far beyond her age! She gave off the same kind of 'strange' vibe that Joraan and My'n have, but more muted and focused. Moira wished there had been time for her to sit down with Viviane and explain their mission, or some derivative there-of so that Moira could discourage Viviane from proceeding any further with this odd fellowship. Joraan kept thwarting her attempts at getting 'at' Viviane, however! It was as if Joraan was insisting that she be brought into this ayahuasca-like fever-dream in which they'd all found themselves.

"Look alive, Troopers! Seems as if we've made it to our destination. I must say, for somethin' called 'The Jewel,' I'm a bit underwhelmed, Moria." Sean said as they finished their ascent to this walled 'crater' affair. This seemed to rise up from off the hill like it wasn't meant to be a part of the landscape at all!

"A perfect disguise, my Lad. Though none here can see it, I can feel the heat of the magic here as if I were looking into a heated oven!" Joraan seemed to instinctively lean into some kind of crouch that reminded Moira of a cat readying to pounce. Likewise, M'yn also started to act queerly. He wrapped himself tightly with his coat and squeezed his thin arms around himself as he shivered. He seemed to have the complete opposite reaction to this strange place than Joraan was having!

Then, from a quarter most extraordinary, a manifestation of the place's power presented itself in the person of Viviane! She, the very one Moira thought should have been the most confused and possibly terrified by all this strangeness, was the one to bewitch, beguile, and slightly terrify all of them!

"It is so-o unbelievably beautiful! It is magnetic! How could such a place be and no one ever knows of it to take advantage! This would be a place tourists should flock to!" Viviane said as if she were falling into a trance.

Without warning, she scampered over to an errant branch, about the size of a tall hiker's stick, and picked it up. It may have been a walking stick as, inexplicably, it looks finely polished and stripped of all bark. It was thicker at the top end with a gnarled nob crowning the staff. It then tapered down into a narrow shaft toward its foot.

Upon closer inspection, Moira recognised the stick as being made of yew wood, which would have meant that it would have to have come from someplace other than the current environs. There were no yew trees anywhere near the site for many miles! But then, Viviane did something inexplicable with the staff: she lifted the stick by its narrow end effortlessly, as if she were picking up a mere feather by its quill! Then, most queerly, the staff managed to balance itself straight and horizontal to the ground, balanced only by its narrow end on the tips of Viviane's middle and index fingers! The staff then seemed to defy gravity itself entirely as it turned of its own toward the cleft in the encircling ridge like a large dowsing rod. This seemed to be the 'entrance' into the Jewel-lake's gulch.

"Talár duí! Tatán duí! Mírilli kageál!" Viviane called out in a loud and ringing voice, startling everyone!

Her voice's echo seemed to grow louder as it panned around the dell like some kind of strange sonic effect from a high-end sound system, Sean thought to himself! He was gobsmacked! At one point he even ducked a bit as he swore he could hear the echo pass right over his fool head! It was, as if, whatever was carrying the sound was invisible and dive-bombing him like some daft songbird defending his nest! What the bloody Hell just happened? More to the point, who that bloody Hell was this lass that could make such a haunting utterance?

As soon as the echo of Viviane's call ceased its echoing, a bizarre stillness filled the dell. Then, all were amazed, including Viviane, at what they all saw transpiring before them!

A mist, that none had seemed to notice before, began to lift from inside the crater containing the Jewel-lake. Upon its lifting, the mist revealed what it had been hiding. Beyond the cleft in the hills leading into the Jewel's culvert, another world appeared as if from nowhere! Within the rounded valley, all about the glittering lake, a seemingly primeval forest appeared rich with great broadleaved trees, huge feathery ferns, and thick vines that crawled up the wide trunks of the trees. Inside the dense forest there was, surprisingly, no darkness but a warm green glow that must have been the sun's doing as it filtered through the great canopy. This, in itself, seemed bizarre since it was a typically gray and overcast Welsh day though on the brighter side. But, to further deepen the seemingly enchanted nature of this forest, there was, within that verdant glow, the coloured lights of tiny sprites suspended in the mist-heavy air under the trees. They danced, twinkled, and winked on and off as if in invitation.

Joraan fell to his knees as if the sight of the hidden forest had bewitched him by stealing the strength from his legs! Unconsciously, he pulled the hood off from his head, baring his pointed ears, and then covered his gaping mouth with his bare three-fingered hand! This distracted and then concerned Moira that Joraan and M'yn's true nature would be exposed to the new addition, Viviane. But, then Moira checked herself and the shock that had obviously numbed her logical sensibilities. What on earth could surprise this young lass any more than what she had just done? The existence of Leprechauns should be a trivial matter as compared to the realisation that one wields magic like from some Harry Potter story!

"What just happened?" Viviane asked in a barely audible whisper as she sank to the ground in a daze. Understandably, being the source of such a queer occurrence could only shock a person!

Recovering from his own stupefaction, Joraan addressed Viviane rather directly on the question, "You are of a unique bloodline, Viviane. This must be why the Powers have guided you to us on this our quest. You are obviously a descendant of the Menathori, the 'Wise Ones' as the men of old once called them. Your kind are exceedingly rare and it can only be by the hand of Providence that you've been lead to us now." Joraan rose and walked toward Viviane, bare of head and hand. His bewitchingly alien appearance caused her eyes to widen even wider.

". . . Link?" Viviane blurted. Joraan knew she was referring to a video game character that looked eerily similar to many a Sídhe he had known in his time.

"Ah, ok! I understand now. This is a dream built upon that curry I must have picked up at the train station. Aye, that must be what this is. I must say, Link, you look even better in person!" Viviane said trying to convince herself that this could not be a reality.

" 'Wise' indeed!" Joraan rolled his eyes.

"Joraan, if you please," He admonished

"Link always looked more akin to Sev, the cardsharp I used to play. He would always cheat at cards by playing with his enchanted deck. He could get away with just about anything by looking innocent!" Joraan said, using his usual derisive acceptance of modern pop culture to defuse fear while, at the same time, pressing the point home that this was all very real and in the waking world.

"Uh . . . alright. If you say so." Viviane cringed as Joraan came to sit in front of her, his hypnotic green gaze attempting to ensnare her as easily as it had the other two children of men. He found . . . he couldn't! So, he changed tactics. He reached for the staff Viviane had used to dowse the reality of the Jewel. Oddly, he found it exceedingly heavy and his efforts were such that it caused Viviane, ever desiring to be helpful, to push it closer to him so that he could see it better. She did so with no effort at all!

Joraan looks peculiarly at Viviane, which causes the girl to stand up and move away from this figment of her gamer's imagination. She held on to the sides of her arms as if trying to hold herself together. Joraan could sense the drawing of a protective shell about Viviane. It was such that she would soon be unable to bear being in their company much longer or lose what was left of her failing sanity.

It was then, out of a most unforeseen quarter, that the light of clarity and truth broke across the dell to capture all of their attentions.

"Welcome, my friends. I am most gratified that I needn't have waited long for your coming. I was promised an audience with you and so this promise has been fulfilled!" The voice seemed to follow the same echoing course that Viviane's spell took. It panned about the dell like a living thing but found especial resonance in the ears (or minds) of each of those gathered together before the Jewel.

M'yn sensed it first and his backflip away from the entrance into the Jewel's culvert was most unnatural to all human eyes! Even Joraan seemed shocked by the manoeuvre! It almost seemed that M'yn flew through the air for a moment! Its result was that he landed quite a distance, at about fifty meters, behind the cohort.

But, then the manifestation took everyone's attention away from M'yn and his seemingly hyperbolic reaction. From the depths of the Jewel's forest, a radiance came! Like filaments of light, this 'something' flowed out from the entrance of the forest, out through the 'gate' in the surrounding hills of the Jewel, and began to coalesce before them.

Though sorely tempted, Moria and Sean held their ground and did not bolt as their instincts seemed to be urging them to do . . . quite compellingly. Viviane simply stared in a transfixed state of childlike wonder. Joraan looked on with, what seemed, a greater sense of appreciation or, at least, of recognition of what was happening before them.

"Impossible . . . !" Joraan muttered. This caused Viviane to break her trance and look quizzically upon Joraan. "W-what is?" Viviane dared ask.

The answer resolved itself as if something was bringing it into focus through some weird holographic, three-dimensional visual effect.

The glowing mists solidified into the form of a woman dressed in a long flowing, sparkling gown of blue-silver. The gown seemed dressed with sequins or, even, diamonds since it sparkled and twinkled so before the fellowship. The figure was humanoid but of a kind taller, sleeker, and more beautiful than even the most fetching daughter of mankind. Her face was full, but with high cheek-bones that angled up through her ears. These were as sharply pointed as Joraan's if more delicately done and smaller than his. All her exposed flesh seemed to glow with a luminance all its own!

Finally, her image was completed as the 'train' of her gown lifted of its own and spread out about her back like four shimmering gauzy wings that made one think of a giant dragonfly's!

Joraan found his hand suddenly filled with the handle of his glaive as he rose to begin a desperate defense of his charges before what he knew to be a Fae witch! He immediately suspected a trap, though he wondered why this Fae had taken to using the beautiful form of her kind of old: the look of her Faeish kind before the Great Corruption and betrayal of the hated Morgana! This one appeared as one of the bright 'Shepherds of the Forest' that seemed like such a distant memory from Joraan's youth! A memory so distant that it might as well be from a half-forgotten dream of childhood!

Sean and Moira stood with mouths agape as they stared with saucer-wide eyes at the apparition appearing before them. Viviane was visibly trembling not only in fear of this unknown spirit but also of her knowing that it was she that had conjured it!

But, of all the reactions from the fellowship none were as quietly extreme as My'n's. Joraan only noticed him when he heard someone fall over onto the ground after giving out a agonised keen! Joraan wanted to move to My'n's side and see if he had fallen under some kind of attack by the witch, but he dared not take his eyes off the Faery woman! The glaive was unsheathed, but, suddenly, it glinted in Joraan's hand with rare green shards of fiery light he had never seen it emit before! Despite his training never to let loose his grip on the weapon from his hand once drawn, Joraan reflexively dropped his glaive onto the ground as if it had burned him!

Before him, the glaive began to hum and glow with a power completely unknown to Joraan! In one-hundred lifetimes of men, Joraan had held aloft this glaive furnished to him by his king and father, Ser! Ser, in turn, had been passed the glaive by his father who had it passed to him by his father, etc. It had been passed on in this way, father to son, through generations reaching as far back as the beginning of all things! Never in all of that time had there been any legend attached to the weapon to suppose that it could resonate with such magic!

It could only be that the Fae had bewitched it, somehow, to keep Joraan from making use of it against her! Foul demon-sorcerous that she is, she could not fight this out with honour! She had to resort to tricks and twisted spells to smite them down into their ruin!

"Already, the Claíomh Solais calls to her sister blade! Indeed, the time is short as foretold by the Supreme One! For the resonance to so scream out in its call, the need must be far direr than I dared fear!" The Fae Witch seemed genuinely dismayed by the mystifying words she uttered. But, Joraan did catch one term he could hang some sense upon and that being her referring to 'the Supreme One'! That could only mean one person if this is, indeed, a Fae Witch confronting them! This 'Supreme Bitch' must have sent one of her sorcerous minions to deal with them when her warrior could not! It could only be Morgana the Witch referred to!

Joraan reached behind himself and felt the three throwing-blades he needed suddenly gripped between his knuckles. They were pure iron and, even though their touch burned Joraan's skin slightly, he made ready to use them in combination with his telekinesis to strike the Witch! Joraan would do this before she could invoke some Fae curse to weaponise the environment around them! The blades would probably not kill the Witch, but they might distract her long enough for Joraan to get his people away and to safety!

But, just as Joraan was readying to let fly his iron darts, there came an almighty roar from next to him! Joraan instantly found himself on his back with this darts knocked from his hand that was now pinned to the ground by two of My'n's own!

The usually gentle and quiet Sídhe now had a ferocious grimace on his face and had, effectively, pinned Joraan to the ground my straddling him and locking his legs behind Joraan's knees! Now both of Joraan's hands and legs were pinned! My'n's strength was formidable and his weight was enough to prevent Joraan from trying any flips or locks to get loose from My'n's full-body grip!

"Let me up ya fool! Can't you tell a Fae Witch when ya see one? She'll kill them if we don't stop her!" Now it was Joraan who was growling and attempting to use all his strength to break My'n's hold!

"NO! MY'RAH YOU'LL NOT TOUCH! EVERRRR!" My'n was now scaring Joraan! This blood of his beloved's! This only remaining member of his people other than himself! This gentle Sídhe that Joraan had come to . . . love . . . He was now a savage stranger in Joraan's eyes! Joraan tried to 'Send' to My'n to convince him of the danger only to be 'Send-Punched' in response which nearly knocked Joraan unconscious! A 'Send-Punch' was when another Sídhe, out of anger, not only would block a brother's telepathy, but redirect it back at the Sender with a 'punch' of emotional and mental pain! Depending on the focus of the riposte, a 'Send-Punch' can merely 'knock away' a Sender's rapport or send them into neural shock!

"Unhand me! Have you gone daft?" Joraan exclaimed, but when the words had no effect on the feral M'yn, Joraan had to switch to more 'persuasive' means of freeing himself. Joraan let go with a Send-Punch of his own! The Sending was filled with just a fraction of the pain Joraan's seemingly endless ages of loneliness had given him. The Sending was potent enough to cause My'n to reflexively release Joraan so that My'n could use his arms to block his eyes from the agonising images that suddenly flooded his mind! This allowed Joraan to roll away and right himself into a crouch.

Joraan adopted a very 'Fighting Irish' looking boxing defensive stance. It was so stereotypical of a Leprechaun pose that Sean couldn't help but chuckle despite the seeming gravity of the situation. He knew he shouldn't have, but . . . watching the two little people spar had been more than a bit entertaining. He obviously had no idea how dire the conflict was between the two Sídhe.

Moira clucked at Sean for his seeming lack of understanding at how dangerous Joraan could be when in combat, but she held off. He'd find out soon enough, Moira supposed. Truth be told, she was far more preoccupied with the Being named 'Mayra' who looked positively horrified by the vicious display of the two sparring brothers. Moira felt she needed to be the voice of reason once again and sought to put an end to this foolishness! Enough was on the line that this kind of behaviour was going to cause dire consequences later. How she knew this, she didn't know. Where her voice came from that actually stopped the two belligerents she also did not know!

"Be still, the both of ye! I'll not be havin' anymore of this nonsense! BE STILL!" her voice rang as loud as Viviane's had, but with a more commanding ring and with fewer echoes.

The command sent both ancient Sídhe onto their butts in shock, both of them staring with saucer-eyes like two errant children when their mother has had enough! Viviane was likewise shocked and was giving Moira a queer look while nervously tousling her own hair. Sean was nearing a giggle fit, sniveling like a schoolboy at two other schoolboys who'd just been caught stealing biscuits.

The Being, though, looked on Moira with a mysteriously knowing smile. It was, in no way, sinister, but it did send Moira a chill. It also awakened her, again, to the fact that a Fae was standing right before them! Beautiful or not, after what Joraan had said about all Fae, this Being was a clear and present threat to everyone!

With newfound courage born of necessity, since Joraan had clearly lost his mind, Moira spoke directly to the Being before her. She decided to ignore the name My'n had given her and his beyond-bizarre outburst in her regard.

"What is your business with us? We've dealt with your kind before, mind you, so we'll be having none of your whips or chains!" Moira said a little more firmly than she needed to. It was enough, though, to stop the Fae Witch in her tracks, apparently. She looked worried as well as befuddled! It was strange how human her expressions were as compared to the mask of hate burned into Moira's mind from her last encounter with a Fae. Moira also found it strange that this one was, undoubtedly, the most beautiful being she's ever seen! She seemed a real fairy from a fairytale! A 'good' fairy, if such a thing even exists in reality.

"I mean you no harm ever or at all, Heir to the Western Flame. I can understand your trepidation, but why, may I ask, would you equate me with 'whips and chains'?" The Fae Being asked with perfect inquisitiveness bereft of any guile Joraan could sense. What Joraan actually felt was a purity in spirit coming from the Fae that seemed almost like a long-forgotten scent! An impression of something old and deep in his memory where children's dreams weep to be given time to play.

"If you are indeed of the Fae then we have more than enough cause to fear you or what you are capable of. Even in my nightmares, I've seen that your people can take on any guise they choose to corner and entrap a soul! A beautiful Black Stag, for instance! But, your sister in blood took no form other than her own to attack me with. If not for Joraan, I would be dead now! You may be lighter and fairer than she, but that could only mean you are far more dangerous too!" Moira stood her ground and was a pillar in Sean's eyes! She truly sent forth an air of regality! Certainly, she must be dread afeared of the beautiful 'Fairy Witch' in front of them, but Moira stood her ground nonetheless! Sean decided to lend his shade to Moira's back and stand as guardian to her as was his instinct and pleasure!

Mayra took notice of this and her befuddlement faded to be replaced by yet more recognition and happiness. Her smile sent M'yn to glow inside as her smile always had that effect on him. He was beyond thought, now, and he felt a strange stirring where Tyrex waited, curled like a snake. An unfastening of restraints and devices of imprisonment that had long held Tyrex ensnared and enslaved.

'Mother told me you were dead, May'rah! Mother told me the Sídhe had murdered you in your slumber!' Tyrex thought to himself.

His mother had lied! She had lied to him! What now? Why go on? His mother was his world! She . . . insisted! Now, she had lied to him?

"I see you have acquired your bright-eyed paladin already, Moira of the Ferns! It is well! It is as the Angel has told me: Providence readies you and brings you now before me." Mayra intoned with knowing resonance.

"I still hear nothing to be answerin' my questions. Who and what are you? If you mean us no harm then why do you meet us here and block us on our path to where we have all been bidden to go?" From anyone else, Mayra would have found Moira's tone impertinent. Moira was addressing the Last of the True Fae upon the earth, after all! Mayra had been the last Shepherdess since before human civilisation had come to exist! Yet, she found in Moira's commanding presence an earnest fear and regard for those with her. She was not being imperious out of vanity . . . but out of need! Moira had the true bearing of a queen! One that is commanding when commands are needed, not to placate a swollen ego. It was an Arthurian trait!

"As have all these gathered here, I have come to serve you, Moira of Brien, Fernchild, and Heir to the Thorn of the Western Isle! " The Fae said.

"I am Mayra, once Mayrex, once a citizen of mighty Oberon of Avalon. I am the one that remained: the only one. I am the one that defied the Usurper and was cast out before her wrath could undo me!" The Fae, 'Mayra' said in terms non but Joraan could fathom. Not even Tyrex inside of M'yn understood! If this was indeed his May'rah, then how is it she remained alive for all of these ages? How is it she wasn't hunted down by Sídhe and Men to put her down as they would have done to all Fae as his mother insisted had been the case?

"I am the last of the true Fae upon the Earth. I was the last Caretaker, but now I am given another mission . . ." All tensed as Mayra gestured and drew out from her palm what looked to be a glittering sword alight with fires and sprites of green and gold! It looked like the kind of sword the Queen of England uses during knightly investments, only far brighter and more fair than even that crown jewel! With another gesture, she sent the blade drifting of its own to settle at Moira's feet. All jumped in fright as with a ringing clank the sword violently righted itself onto its point and drove itself into the ground. Beneath the ground, a rumble caused Moira to stumble back awkwardly into Sean's arms as the earth breached a huge black stone into which the blade had embedded itself.

"But first . . . a test to be sure! As Lady of the Lake, I must burden you with a task to make this 'official'." Mayra said almost teasingly as she gestured toward the sword in the stone.

"Don'na tell me: I have to draw this blinking sword from this bloody rock, aye? I'm Irish, not Welch! This is an English thing! We have none of this nonsense in Irish lore!" Moira huffed and the Lady found that humorous.

"Irish, Welsh, English: all are under the same doom since, by the powerful ley lines tying these islands together, they are all one and the same Avalon! The doom befalls all here and the appointed time has come again for the Sword in the Stone to be taken up and used to save this realm once again." Mayra insisted.

"Take you up the sword of your people, Moira! Take you up Excalibur and bring an end to Morgana who, once again, threatens your kingdom in this most desperate hour!" Mayra pointed emphatically at the sword and then at Moira.

Moira's face grew taught as a nameless dread trickled down her spine. She suddenly felt the cross of destiny weigh heavily upon her shoulders!

She looked at the sword and wondered how any of this could be real. But, when she took hold, for the first time, the glittering gold handle of the great sword it felt so real in her hand. So . . . right!

With no effort at all she tugged and the Sword of Kings, Excalibur, unsheathed itself from the rock as if being drawn from its scabbard!

It felt so light in her hand, so light in fact that she felt a need to raise it over her head with one hand. At that, the sword rang with a bell-like tone as the sun broke through the clouds to touch the bright metal of the holiest of blades in the British Isles! Above them, all clouds parted and the bluer than blue skies of Wales, so rarely seen, shone with cobalt splendour above all the assembled Circle. All looked on the sword Excalibur with wonder, for none, since the time of the last war with the Fae, had any seen a day like this!

In this old place, a new day had dawned and, unbeknownst to all present, the new day would see the beginning of the end of the world as we know it!