Oladahn, the little son of a giantess of the Bulgar Mountains, stepped shyly forward. “I’m glad to see you back, friend Hawkmoon. And in good health, it seems.” He grinned, offering Hawkmoon a goblet of wine. “Heredrink this as a welcome cup!”

Hawkmoon smiled back and accepted the goblet, quaffing it in a single draft. “Thanks, friend Oladahn. How’s it with you?”

“Boring. We are all boredand afraid you would not return.”

“Well, I am back and I think I have enough stories of my adventures to dispel your boredom for a few hours. And I have news of a mission for us all which will bring you relief from the inactivity you have been suffering.”

“Tell us!” Count Brass roared. “For all our sakestell us at once!”

Hawkmoon laughed easily. “Ayebut give me a moment to look at my wife.” He turned and stared into Yisselda’s eyes and he saw that they were now perturbed.

“What is it, Yisselda?”

“I see something in your manner,” said she. “Something that tells me, my lord, that you are soon to risk your life again.”

“Perhaps.”

“If it must be, then it must be.” She took a deep breath and smiled at him. “But it will not be tonight, I hope.”

“Nor for several nights. We have many plans to make.”

“Aye,” she said softly, glancing at the stones of the hall. “And I have much to tell you.”

Count Brass stepped forward gesturing to the far end

of the hall where the servants were laying the table with food. “Let’s eat. We have saved our best for this homecoming.”

Later as they sat with full bellies by the fire and Bowgentle had finished recounting now Tozer had suddenly vanished, Hawkmoon showed them the Sword of the Dawn and the Runestaff, which he drew from his shirt. At once the hall was illuminated with whirling flames making patterns in the air and the strange bittersweet scent filled the hall.

The others looked at the thing in silent awe until Hawkmoon replaced it. “That is our standard, my friends. That is what we now serve when we go out to fight the whole Dark Empire.”

Oladahn scratched at the fur on his face. “The whole Dark Empire, eh?”

Hawkmoon smiled gently. “Aye.”

“Are there not several million warriors on the side of Granbretan?” Bowgentle asked innocently.

“There are several million, I believe.”

“And we have about five hundred Kamargians left at Castle Brass,” murmured Count Brass wiping his lips on his sleeve and giving a mock frown. “Let me compute that…”

D’Averc now spoke. “We have more than five hundred. You forget the Legion of the Dawn.” He pointed at Hawkmoon’s sword which lay scabbarded beside his chair.

“How many in that mysterious legion?” Oladahn asked.

“I do not knowperhaps an infinite number, perhaps not.”

“Say a thousand,” Count Brass mused. “To be conservative of course. Making fifteen hundred warriors against”

“Several million,” supplied D’Averc