"We must proceed with caution here."

Culhain shot the druid a questioning look and halted the small group. They had only gone a few miles from the previous night’s campsite and he was eager to get on. "What's the problem Gwern? Is there something we need to avoid?"

"We'll be fine as long as we move quickly and quietly. There is a minor portal just up ahead to the left. The Morrigan has been strengthening her hold on the minor stone circles and often uses them for transporting her forces. Recently we've been noticing more sentinels who've been picking off our druids and small scouting parties."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard so many words from you in one go Gwern."

"Where the hell did she come from?" Muttered one of Culhain's men as Steren appeared from behind a nearby tree.

She grinned at him and moved alongside the druid. "He's right Captain. There are a small group of Harpies roosting in the trees by the ring. If we detour slightly to the right, there's a deer trail we can use to get round them."

"I'm not afraid of a few singing buzzards," growled Dresta.

"No-one's saying you're afraid Dresta." Gwern faced the hulking warrior. "But sometimes there's a time when stealth and caution is required in place of brute force."

"I suggest we take the trail Steren has mentioned. Dresta, take point with Steren and one of the men, we'll follow on."

"Yessir," he said with a muttered "I'd like to show her my point," to the man next to him. Smirking, the two followed Steren, who moved away into the trees.

Silence enveloped them as they moved into the pine forest. Needles from the sun shrouding canopy muffled their footsteps and Dresta fixed his eyes on the trim figure of the woman who picked her way silently through the forest in front of him. He glanced across at Clun, who also followed her movements with a wolfish grin.

"You fancy a little tickle old friend?" he whispered, motioning to Steren who had paused and bent over to peer into a thicket.

As the man nodded, Dresta silently padded towards her and grabbed a hand full of buttock with one hand, the other silently drawing a dirk from his belt and resting it at her throat.

"Are you ready to die Dresta?" There was no fear in her voice, and Dresta momentarily lost the initiative until Clun stepped in and backhanded her across the face, drawing his sword as he followed her falling form. Dresta wasn't wholly sure what happened next, but there was a blur of limbs and Clun staggered back clutching his throat, his hands scrabbling madly at his windpipe as his face purpled. Steren pirouetted, lowering the suspended foot and stepped in with murder in her eyes. Her sword whispered from its sheath and the tip flashed through the man's eyes as he died.

"What the hell are you?"

"I am a woman who will never be the plaything of a man I do not choose to lie with. Draw your weapon..."

"I do not fight women."

"I am a scout on this mission. Are you a coward then, only fit to rape women and kill innocents?"

Dresta's sword rasped from his scabbard and he dropped into a warrior's crouch, but froze as cold steel touched the nape of his neck.

"Put down your weapon or I will kill you where you stand. Steren, you too."

"You move quietly Captain,” noted Dresta as his bastard sword dropped to the pine needle. You know you cannot take me Culhain, not in a fair fight. Our time will come."

"I don't feel the need to fight fair when I’m facing a rapist. We are here on a mission Dresta, if you cannot fulfil that, then leave."

"You will pay for this, both of you."

"And if you attack any of this group, then you will answer to me." Gwern strode up to the three of them and grabbed the hulking warrior by his hair, slapping Culhain's sword aside and hauling him upright. The dark eyes of the druid bore into the eyes of Dresta who maintained the look for a few seconds and then dropped his gaze to the pine needled forest floor. "The Morrigan will claim your soul if you give into the dark, be warned..."

Releasing the larger man's hair, the druid stalked away. "Come Dresta, save your lust for battle, not the meaningless fumblings of sex."

Culhain watched as the warrior and the druid moved away, and sheathed his sword. "Are you okay Steren?" he asked as she swore.

"No. I lost my temper and killed this idiot." She kicked at Clun's corpse with one foot and sighed. "I'm glad you arrived when you did Culhain, we need Dresta."

"We need you too, Dresta would've taken you apart."

Steren grinned and stepped in close, running a hand down one cheek of the surprised Captian. "Never underestimate a woman Culhain." He looked down at the knife resting against his crotch and grinned, bowing carefully as he stepped away from the blade.

"Never, my lady. Come, we'd best join what remains of our party."

Steren picked up her bow. But, as they turned, there was a shout and a horse screamed in fear and the two of them ran at speed between the trees to the source , Culhain drawing his sword.

As they burst through the pines into a clearing, another of Dresta’s men fell, the wyvern ripping through his throat with one clawed hand, turning on another man who screamed in terror and tripped. Lightening fast Steren loosed an arrow that took the creature in one eye, and nocked another arrow to the string as she assessed the scene before her. A group of five wyverns had attacked. Two men were down and one, injured and standing clumsily on one leg, was using a tree for support. One wyvern was dead, one dying by her arrow. Culhain ran forward and stabbed the wyvern attacking the injured man; Gwern and one of the men tackled another wyvern and Dresta roared defiance at the remaining wyvern, smashing it in the head with a massive stroke from his bastard sword.

Sighting once more along an arrow, she took careful aim and put a barb through the neck of the lizard attacking Gwern, who rammed his quarterstaff into the open maw of the creature as it screamed in pain. Stepping in close, the warrior fighting with him stabbed his sword into its neck, dispatching the beast in a crimson spray of hot blood.

A sudden scream of pain and the injured warrior fighting with Culhain was down. As Steren drew another arrow from her quiver, a backhanded blow from a taloned claw threw Culhain through the air to land at her feet.

“Culhain!” The arrow sped from the string into the chest of the creature as it charged them. Dropping her bow, she snatched her sword from its scabbard and ran at the creature. Time seemed to slow as she dodged a blow from its claws and the creature opened it mouth to bite at her. As its mouth opened, she thrust, her sword exiting the top of its skull in a bloody spume of gore. Releasing the blade, she slid under the body as it fell, erupting from the far side and hurtling unarmed towards the remaining creature as it crouched over a fallen Dresta, who lay on his back scrabbling frantically for his sword which lay just out of reach. Diving into a roll, she snatched at the hilt, came to her feet and slashed the blade through its neck with such power that it sheared clean through bone and gristle to leave the creature decapitated, writhing in its death throes on the ground.

Time returned and she lifted her head to see the remaining warrior jumping into the saddle of the last remaining horse, flogging it mercilessly as he tried to escape the carnage of the battle.

“And I ask you again, what the hell are you?” said Dresta from the ground nearby. “No-one can move that fast. Are you some sort of witch?”

“Steren, are you unhurt?”

She ignored the prone Dresta and spoke to the Captain. “I’m fine Culhain, did the lizard catch you?”

“No.”

“Gwern? Are you hurt?”

“Minor scratches only. I think we were lucky.” The druid glanced at Steren, a look of puzzlement etching his features. “Or blessed.”

“Blessed?” Dresta rose from the ground and brushed himself off. “She’s cursed. No woman can fight like that.”

Steren turned, her eyes blazing, the man’s sword still clenched tightly in one fist. “And yet again you insult me Dresta. You may be a warrior, but you are a fool. One more insult and you will be a dead fool.” The sword landed point first between his feet, the hilt quivering as the point drove deep into the soil.

“Dresta.” The warrior turned to face the druid. “She is on our side whether you like it or not. Now, we need to move, the forces of darkness are aware of us. We have little time. Are you with us or do you wish to join your colleague?”

"I'm not a coward."

"Right, then we continue on..."

~

“How much further to the ring Gwern?” whispered Culhain. The group of four sheltered in a small cave as a group of ogres rampaged past. Steren had materialised from the woods mere moments before to warn them to take cover, and they crouched low behind a screen of brush as the brutish figures thundered along the trail.

“Just a mile. We have to commune with Fagus. Once we are in the circle, none can touch us.”

“And when we’ve finished?”

“Once communion finishes we will have to leave the circle.”

“And face whatever has crept up on us in the meantime?”

“Aye.” Gwern extended a hand to Culhain. “I think I owe you an apology. You fought well against the lizards back there.”

Culhain took the hand with a smile. “As did you druid. I had no idea you were so adept with that quarterstaff.”

“When things go wrong we occasionally find ourselves having to fend off the odd creature of darkness. The druid training includes travelling to places that I would quite happily never set foot in again. Fagus’ domain is one.”

“And yet we have no choice.”

“Indeed. We will do what we must.”

Steren motioned with a hand, indicating the coast was clear, and the four travellers moved back on to the trail.

“What do you need us to do when we get to the stones Gwern?”

“You Steren and Dresta must take up posts equidistant around the circle to form a triangle. I will stand in the centre and try and summon him. With luck Fagus will receive us and hear our call.”

“With luck?” Dresta demanded from nearby, keeping his eyes fixed on the shadows that brushed the trail.

“The gods are fickle Dresta, who can say what will happen? Perhaps he will take a shine to you and turn you into a raven. The gods have been known to play with humans occasionally.”

Dresta muttered something dark under his breath and they continued on in silence until they reached a clearing in the trees.

“The Circle of Badb,” breathed Gwern reverently.

As if his words triggered some sort of trap, a flock of harpies descended on them from their perches in the trees that surround the ring. Slashing ineffectively with weapons, they huddled together for protection as the winged creatures flocked around them, iron claws slashing at them.

“We must get to the centre of the ring before they summon help. Ready? Go!” As one the group ran for the ring, following Gwern whose staff had a greater reach and seemed more effective at keeping the flying vermin at bay. “Take your positions as we discussed!” he shouted over the screeching creatures who now flapped angrily just outside the perimeter of the stone circle. “They cannot harm us here.”

The others sheathed their weapons and took station equidistant around the ring as Gwern strode to the tabular stone that marked the centre. Standing on the slate he lifted his arms to the sky and intoned a guttural chant that ended with him striking the stone with the end of his staff. Three hollow knocks and the sky darkened, three more and it went utterly black, with silence blanketing them. Three more slow blows to the stone and they found themselves standing under a storm streaked sky, bones littering the bare rocks around them, the only ornament in the god’s garden. The Babh flew, their harsh cawing the only sound.

And then the God of Beech and Bough spoke...