C lamadeus spasmodically grasped at his mead horn; he clenched it as if he would throttle it. Amangons was much cooler. He merely shrugged and said, "Surely we are not the only men of the Continent who have come to this island, Lot." "What are you saying, my king?" demanded Urien, rising to his feet. "Are you saying these men are responsible for the ambush in the forest?" "Preposterous," retorted Clamadeus, taking courage from Amagons's confidence. "You would do better to control the insolent tongues of your men, King of Gododdin. We wish to be your allies. Did we not offer to return to you those members of your family held hostage by Arthur? Did we not agree that an alliance between Pictland and Gododdin is advantageous? What would we hope to gain by angering you and killing your men?" "Plenty, I should think," returned Lot. His eyes blazed like a kiln. "If your lackeys managed to kill Lady Derelei, I would be faced with the threat of war with the Picts once they learned what befell their lady in my lands. And there you would be, with your offer of an alliance to help me beat back the painted hordes." He continued speaking over the loud snort from the lady in question. "If Lady Derelei lived, then you could still appear once the battle was over, offer your assistance to the wounded, hide the evidence of your involvement and present yourselves as friends of the Gododdin. Unfortunately for you, it seems, your plans went awry for Urien told me a pilgrim knight and his servant appeared from the forest and helped to chase the outlaws away." "He did not give his name, but verily we would all have died had it not been for his assistance," added Urien. "I fear you may be right, my king. For after the stranger and his servant departed, these two came out of the forest, with a host of men, offering aid to us. Having been weakened from the earlier battle, we could hardly refuse them. Where others see only footprints, you my king, see the entire army!" He glared at the outsiders, and beside him Accolon rose to his feet as well. Throughout the hall, the men of Gododdin were beginning to seethe like the tempest outside. Beneath the tables, hands went to the hilts of thirsty swords. The daughters of Lot were frightened now, as they looked at the hardened miens and glittering eyes of the men around them. Eleyne and Soredamor were contemplating if they could grab Thaney and hide under the table before the slaughter started. "You are mistaken in your assumptions, King Lot," said Amangons, as he and his companion stood. Neither of the men made a move towards the weapons at their sides, for they knew that even now, their own men stationed outside were rising up against the defenders of the fortress. The cries of alarm outside the Great Hall were effectively muffled by the noise of the storm. One way or the other they would have their alliance with Gododdin by the time the sun rose over the craggy outcrop of Din Eidyn. "We are the best friends that you have right now," Clamadeus smirked. "If you will not think of yourself, then think of your children." Eleyne was making her way to the hearth to pick up the sleeping baby and carry her to safety, when the Frankish lord moved swiftly to intercept her. Before anyone could react, he had wrapped a huge arm around her small shoulders and pulled her against him. He knew better than to threaten her life, for he would have been cut down at once if he did, but the implications were clear. Eleyne whimpered and trembled in Clamadeus's grip. Her earlier babblings about being carried off by a foreign prince seemed awfully silly now. Normally, she loved being the center of attention, but now, all she wanted to do was run away and hide. "It's all right, Eleyne," said Lot. He would have said more, but from outside there came the terrible sound of a tremendous thunderclap and the horrific popping sounds of splintering timbers. Screams of terror could clearly be heard over the shrieking of the storm. "What is going on out there?" Lot demanded, throwing the arrow aside. He made to go and see for himself, but was stopped by the menacing whisper of a blade being drawn from its scabbard. The point of Amangons's sword flicked up and hovered near his throat. "Stand down, men of Gododdin!" Amangons’s voice cracked like a whip and struck down the sounds of indignation that reverberated around the hall. "I mean your liege no harm." He smiled like a cat. "Lot, something terrible is obviously going on out there in that storm. I insist that you remain here where it is safe. I am sure your loyal retinue does not want anything unfortunate to happen to you. Let my men deal with whatever it is out there." "Deal with what is of your own making!" firey Accolon yelled. "We have been betrayed. They come not to treat honestly, but to murder us. Give us the word, my king and we shall cut them down!" Lot scowled, all his attention focused on the point of the blade that danced at the edges of his vision, like a snake about to strike. Is this how it ends for us? Penned up inside this hall like cattle? This Salian is clever enough not to openly threaten me, but his intentions are plain to see. We are to remain here, supposedly under his protection, while his savages slaughter my men outside. Once that is done, he will control the fortress and can slay us at his pleasure. Luck is not with us this night, for this terrible storm has given them far better aid than any traitor within these walls could. The King of the Goddodin looked around to see his men with their swords at the ready, prepared to defend him and his family. Facing off against them were members of Amangons's warband, high ranking enough to be permitted inside the Great Hall. We are evenly matched. If we fight, there is a chance that we will overcome them. His eyes traveled over to his daughter Eleyne, who was openly weeping now. She slapped the Frankish hand that tried to touch her hair, and its owner roared with laughter. We could win, but at what cost? I could loose my little daughters, and many good men… "Spitfire of a girl you have here," Clamadeus smirked, as he held fast to a struggling Eleyne. "What do we do, my king?" Lamorak demanded, sweat beading upon his upper lip. The hand that rested on the hilt of his sword was trembling. Murmurs for blood swirled around the hall, matching the fever pitch of the storm outside. The men were like a pack of leashed hounds, straining to fall upon the throats of their prey. Lot opened his mouth the speak, but before he could utter a word, the doors of the Great Hall exploded inward and the company inside found themselves confronted by the furious face of the storm. It opened its mouth and spat wind and rain at them, and the torches spluttered in the onslaught and many of them went out. It was then that the forgotten stranger by the hearth made his move. Swifter than thought, he rose and brought up a blade from beneath his mean cloak. It snapped up and knocked aside the Salian’s sword, as if it had been a harmless blade of grass. Caught off guard, Amangons staggered back with a curse. "'Lo, Da," said the stranger, stepping in front of his king. "What's this? I go off on one little scouting mission and come back to find you with wolves at your throat? Can't leave you alone for a minute!" He threw off his hood to reveal golden hair, tanned skin and a pair of furious blue eyes. "Gareth!!!" shrieked Eleyne and Soredamor in unison. Emboldened by the sight of her brother, Eleyne turned and bit down on the hand holding her as hard as she could. "Daughter of Helle!" spat Clamadeus, as he tried to shake her off. The princess twisted free of his grasp and ran to her brother's side. "Well done, my son!" said Lot, feeling the fortunes of the night turning now in the favor of the Gododdin. "Diloch, Da," Gareth replied, not taking his eyes off the Salians. "Arianwen is always telling me to use my head for something other than breaking down doors. My men and I came inside the gates just a little behind Urien and the Pictish girl. I didn't much like the look of the fellows riding with them, nor the wounded man that was on that red horse. So, I told my boyos to stay sharp and I'd sneak inside here and see if I could tell what they were up to." "Well now, my lords," said Lot, looking to Amangons and Clamadeus who, though cornered, remained unbowed. "Perhaps it is you who should remain here –" A terrified soldier stumbled into the hall and interrupted. "The Beast, my king!" he cried, voice hoarse with fear. "The Beast, she is here! She attacks the fortress---" Creeping around him were tendrils of a black miasma; like leeches, they seemed to suck up the light around them. Politics were forgotten, for as the company watched in horror, the tendrils of black mist solidified themselves into a giant clawed hand that reached out and engulfed the man. He screamed in fear as he was pulled back out into the void. Another roaring gust of wind swept through the hall, and extinguished the last surviving torches. The hall was plunged into darkness and pandemonium broke out…