The party set out from the gates. The newly waning gibbous moon shone brightly behind the filigree of branches while the rising sun cast a pale coral pink shade on the ancient trunks. Snow could not be far off for the all knew the rhyme, “when sun and moon are seen in July the days ahead will be full of clear sky. But when they are seen after an autumn eve the wind will howl and snow will cleave.” Two crows caawed and flew off east. Perhaps a bad omen but Ibbero did not seem disturbed. He knew darker, fouler things were abroad on the journey ahead as they had been confirmed by the rumours already reaching Glavendell.

Asthralain as befits a queen was at the head of the company mounted on her horse Sunswift and was robed simply in a plain grey traveller’s cloak. But this was no longer a defenceless queen. She held her face towards the east and in her left hand Hammclas the staff of stewardship supported her will. To those that could see in the brightening day a faint light emanated from its tip as her will flowed through the wood and leached away into the earth. The company moved off and the bright glint of Glowersmair (sword of songs) was briefly seen under Asthralain’s robes. Ibbero had indeed taught her well. The journey to Witchwaste had begun.