Ahearn, King of Horses (05 Feb 2002) Agatha continues her quest. Note: Players other than Agatha and Hannah should not read this log.

After preparing their messages for Thomas -- which Nymuae enchanted onto a flat ivory disk, containing also the information Agatha had gleaned from the Lord of October -- the sorceress took a little time to examine the vial Hannah brought with her out of the Dark Witch's lair. "It is a bottled illusion," Nymuae concluded. "To use it, you would pour it out onto whatever you were trying to disguise, or wherever you wished to create the illusion, while you focus upon exactly what effect you wish to create. The thinner you spread it, the less convincing the end result will be. It could cover an area as small as a cat and be quite convincing, or as large as horse and rider -- perhaps larger -- but seem insubstantial and ghostly. The illusion will disperse over a matter of hours. A skilled witch or warlock would gain the best effect from it, but even without training, you would be able to use it, should you choose to. I do not think there is enough in this vial to allow more than one use, however."

The sorceress returned the vial to Hannah, and the two younger riders set out almost immediately thereafter. Agatha couldn't help sharing the sorceress's suspicion that Tom would disregard their warnings, no matter how dire, and she figured that a speedy interception was her best hope.

The Green Hills
Winter's grip on the land makes a mockery of the name for the rolling slopes alongside the River of Tears. A foot-deep layer of old snow crunches underfoot, making these "the white hills," as one farmer dryly remarked when hailed regarding directions. The same man said he'd seen "the great herds, and the lord o' the horses" roaming within the hills a few weeks ago, but there's been no break in the snow to indicate the passage of so many animals -- until now.

Two riders crest a slope, one on a bay mare, the other mounted on a gray gelding. Below them lies a small valley, sheltered from the elements by the rise of the hills to either side. The wind has been coming steadily from the west since they began their journey, which explains the drifts of snow that have piled up on the northeastern slope, near the riders. On the opposite side, however, the slope is relatively clear, leaving short green-brown grass exposed to the eye. More noteworthy still, however, is the churning of the snow, as if by many hooves, all along the west side of the small valley.

"It looks like the herd has been this way," Agatha says to Hannah while pointing to the churned-up ground. "Let's follow their track."

Hannah looks to where Agatha points, then nods and directs her horse that way, following the hoof prints. Although she says as she does so, "I thought our destination was Icejaw Pit? If so, we are going in the wrong direction."

Examination of the tracks in the snow, though churned now and muddy, suggests Hannah is right -- it looks like the herd was moving north, along the west side of the small valley, when they left.

"It can't be helped," Agatha says, turning Fiona northward to follow the tracks. "I need to talk to Ahearn. He might know what happened to me -- to Redmane, I mean -- that led to this weird sort of reincarnation. It's the sort of information that even Thomas might listen to."

Hannah rides up beside the red-haired girl. "I haven't read much of the legends concerning the Lady Redmane -- just mostly those of the Lord Explorer, truth be told. I am only guessing this, so correct me if I am wrong: is Ahearn the Knightsteed that she rode?"

"He's the sire of the line of Knightsteeds," Agatha explains. "The King of the Horses, and Redmane's old partner. He's been seen around here lately, apparently searching for something."

"He and Redmane left together to investigate activity that might have been linked to the Destroyer, and never came back," the redhead adds. "Until now. I'm hoping he can tell me how Redmane was defeated."

Hannah breathes in softly and shakes her head. "So another of the legends returns..," she murmurs, mostly to herself. More loudly, she says, "I am beginning to think it is my destiny to meet every legendary figure from Mirari's history! First Lord Thomas, then Lady Sorceress Nymuae, now you -- and hopefully, Ahearn, as well."

"Who knows, maybe you'll be part of the legends for the next generation," Agatha teases.

Hannah smiles at this, then snorts. "With my luck, the only thing I'll ever be known for is the excessive grief and worry I've given to my father!"

The two girls have followed the trail of the herd -- the broad swath of churned snow impossible to miss -- for perhaps thirty minutes. They have sighted none of the animals, until now, when Hannah catches, out of the corner of her eye, a ghostly shadow moving through a stand of trees to the northeast of them.

Hannah urges her mount to halt, then looks sharply in the direction of the ghostly figure. She holds up a hand, motioning Agatha to stop, as well. "Did you see that? Something moving, I mean?"

Agatha reins Fiona to a stop and draws her sword, just to be safe. "Where?" she asks, looking towards the tree line.

Whatever Hannah caught a glimpse of has vanished again, perhaps hidden behind the trees and a rise in the hillside.

Hannah turns Chanticleer in the direction of the trees where she saw the movement, then frowns. "I swear I saw a pale figure moving through those trees. I can't see it now, though."

"There may be trolls about," Agatha cautions. "We'll keep to the track, but be wary. I wouldn't put it past Ahearn to set up an ambush himself."

Hannah nods and turns back to the trail of hoof prints. She does put one hand on the hilt of her rapier now, just to be on the safe side, as she rides along.

Now that she's been alerted to the presence of something in the trees, Agatha is able to pick out the sound of a horse's snort from the direction Hannah pointed out before. She brings Fiona to a stop again, and turns to face the trees. "I heard you that time, so you might as well show yourself," she calls out.

Hannah halts Chanticleer again, turning him in that direction once more. She listens nervously, hoping to pick out any other noises that may tell her something of the creature that is obviously following them.

From out of the trees strides a great white stallion, tossing his head. His gleaming coat is almost invisible against the blanket of snow that crunches beneath his hooves. Ambush, indeed. The stallion walks to them with ground-eating strides, while Fiona and Chanticleer both drop their heads before him. I am not the one trespassing here. He speaks a language without words, but Agatha finds she can understand him perfectly, much better than the gesture-talk of Kuon and Destre. It's not telepathy ... more like the way he lifts his head or moves his legs, the way he snorts and shakes his mane ... as if he were speaking a sign language that she didn't know she understood before.

"It really is you then!" Agatha says with awe, and sheathes her sword. "I don't suppose you recognize me?"

I recognize the sword you bear, the stallion answers, jerking his head to indicate the now-sheathed blade. He seems about to say more, but does not, only moving closer, until he stands just a length away from the two riders. Their horses dip their noses to the ground, whickering softly.

Hannah swallows heavily and takes her hand from her own sword as the great stallion draws near. She says nothing for the time being, however, but merely watches the red-haired girl and the stallion converse.

"Well, if Nymuae and the others are to be believed, I'm the reincarnation of Redmane," Agatha tells the stallion. "And there's a new Lord Thomas the Explorer as well. I was hoping you'd know a bit more about it, if you were with Redmane when she ... vanished."

The stallion doesn't reply at first. He stands before them, his size making the full-grown mare and gelding look like ponies by comparison. He lifts a hoof to paw at the ground. And you? Who do you believe you are?

"I believe that I'm Agatha Cunningham from Ainigton," the girl replies. "But I'm open to the possibility that I'm also the Lady Knight, Redmane. I just don't remember being her, at least not to the degree that Thomas and Nymuae have become their former selves."

The white horse snorts, tossing his head. He takes a step to the side, turning his head to watch the redhead as he moves. Agatha Cunningham of Ainigton, I am Ahearn, the Lord of the Horses, and I have not forgotten who I am. Tell me, what do you seek here? And who is your companion?

"Oh! This is Hannah, of the Golden Hawks," Agatha says, gesturing to the other rider. "She rides Chanticleer, and I ride the Knightsteed Fiona. As I said, I'm looking for answers. I need to know what happened to Redmane."

Hannah bows slightly in her saddle to Ahearn when she is introduced -- now that it is clear that the stallion is truly the Lord of Horses.

Well met, Hannah of the Golden Hawks. He nods to the two horses, too, and something about the motion makes the girls feel like he already knew them, somehow. As for answers -- why should I answer your queries, Agatha Cunningham? How am I to know you are not another ruse of my foes? Where did you come by Knight Redmane's sword?

"In a scrap yard, if that means anything," Agatha says. "It was disguised as a piece broken off of ... a sort of mechanical harvesting machine. Not exactly a plowshare, but I suppose the irony is still there. My lance was just a long piece of iron bar that I picked up there as well. They returned to their true forms when I brought them here to Mirari, with some help from Nymuae I suspect."

As junk. Cast off things, the stallion repeats, perhaps to himself. He circles around Agatha and Hannah, watching them. Why should I believe you?

Hannah's eyebrows go up a bit at the mention of Agatha being able to handle iron without coming to any apparent harm, but she does not comment on it.

Agatha looks to Hannah, then back to Ahearn. "Well ... you could ask our horses, I suppose, but Fiona hasn't known me for very long. What proof would you like?"

Ahearn finishes his circuit of the two girls and their mounts, stopping before them again. Draw Redmane's sword, Agatha Cunningham.

Drawing the long sword from its sheath, Agatha holds the blade upright before her.

The stallion approaches, lifting his head to examine the blade. Fiona shifts nervously under the naked steel, and Ahearn's nostrils flare. Then he turns his head, and brushes his cheek -- for the briefest of instants -- against the blade -- before drawing it back. A dark line smolders in his fur where the steel touched him. He turns his head to look at Agatha again. Touch the blade. With your bare flesh.

Agatha nods, then presses her own cheek against the cold metal.

Hannah draws in her breath with a hissing gasp, wondering what the touch of steel will do to Agatha, but she is too late in preventing her from touching the blade.

Ahearn watches her, and much to Hannah's surprise, no harm comes to the girl. Tell me, three times, that the sky is green.

Pulling her face away from the sword, Agatha looks up to see what color the sky is before claiming it to be green.

The sky above is grey-blue, slate colored. It is definitely not any shade of green. Agatha tries to remember if horses are colorblind or not.

"The sky isn't green, though, Ahearn," Agatha explains. "What is the point of telling you three times that is? Oh, is this something to do with that, 'what I say three times is true' thing?"

The stallion only nods in answer.

Agatha sheathes her sword first, then looks at the stallion and says, "The sky is green. The sky is green. The sky is green. Even though it isn't."

You are not Redmane, the stallion says.

"I'm not fey, certainly," Agatha admits, sounding a little defensive. "But I still need to know what happened to Redmane -- if she ran into some sort of magic or trap."

Ahearn turns his head from side to side, watching the redhead. Why do you need to know? Why is this important to you, girl of Ainigton?

"Because whether or not I'm Redmane, I go to face the Destroyer," the human girl says. "I need to know what to watch for, so that I don't repeat whatever mistake Redmane made all those years ago."

Hannah finally speaks, looking from the other girl to the stallion. "Lord Ahearn," she says gently, "Agatha may not be the companion you knew so long ago, but she is also not here to willfully bring any harm to the peoples or creatures of Mirari. I believe this to be true, and will speak to that if you so desire. I do not know if that will convince you, but I offer it, nonetheless."

For a moment, the snowy horse's head turns to regard Hannah, considering her words, then he looks to Agatha again. You are mortal girl. What do you care of the fate of Mirari? Why would you risk yourself against the Destroyer for us?

Agatha blinks. "Because you exist. Some have told me that if Mirari falls, so too will my own world. But mainly, it's just that someone has to oppose evil. All my life I've tried to live up to the ideals of chivalry, so how could I possibly turn my back on Mirari?"

The stallion closes his eyes, bowing his head and exhaling, trails of mist fogging out into the cold air. When he raises his head again, he says, I did not see Redmane fall.

Sitting a little straighter in the saddle now, Agatha asks the King of Horses, "She went somewhere you could not follow her?"

We were separated. Ahearn paces again, his hooves crunching on the snow, flattening and churning it again. No. I -- She He stops, then starts again, more firmly, The truth is, I have gone over the final events a thousand times in my head, but still I do not know what happened, at the end.

Agatha frowns. "Could something have affected your mind? Magic perhaps? What is the last thing you clearly remember?"

Hannah leans forward in her saddle at this, eyes alight with interest at what Ahearn will say in response.

That is the trouble. The Destroyer is a master of illusion and treachery. I -- we should have known that. Perhaps we did. I will begin where the story is clear. Ahearn paws at the ground once, then paces as he goes on. After we left the Green Hills, we rode north -- Redmane had no wish to wait patiently at the manor for whatever might come to us. We hoped to catch the Destroyer off guard.

The redhead nods. At least it's certain that the Destroyer was involved, somehow.

Yes, Ahearn says flatly. None other would send a Vyglari to treat with us. For several Days we traveled, into the northern mountains. At one point, our path was blocked by thick undergrowth, and Redmane dismounted to inspect the trail ahead, looking for a path through. She was complaining because I had chosen to ride past an earlier turn, misliking it, and now she did not know which way we should go. I told her I was worried about the herds we had set loose in the Green Hills. She ... The stallion stops.

"That's where you were separated?" Agatha prompts.

For the first time, yes. The stallion nods brusquely. She ... suggested that I should turn back, if I was 'too frightened to go on.' At first, I thought she was jesting, though it seemed a poor joke. When I replied that she would be lost without me, however, she became plainly angry. She said ...

I will not repeat what she said. The stallion's head turns away. I grew angry in turn, and I left her then. At first I intended to return to the Green Hills, but after a short while, as my head cleared of my fury, I regretted our parting. I turned back to search for her.

Agatha listens, thinking of the tales of how the Destroyer always seeks to sow dissention.

I found her in a clearing, and she apologized for her harsh words and her demeanor. 'Just come to this pool I found, we'll refill the waterskins and have a drink, then we'll go home together,' she said to me. Relieved, I followed her onto the side path we had bypassed earlier. I said nothing about it, not wishing to provoke a fresh quarrel. We came to a slope slick with mud, and I took the lead -- if I was going to slide, best she not be in front of me when I did. There was a pool at the bottom, the waters dark and still. I took a breath of the air, and it smelled stagnant and moldy with death. I turned to warn her, to head her off, and even as I did so, I felt a shove against my side. As I fought for purchase on the mud, I saw -- something -- a tall, wretched figure that was not Redmane at all. Then I fell into the pool, and the murky waters closed over me. The stallion tosses his head, his mane rippling against his neck. That -- if that was her -- is the last I saw of Redmane.

"Trickery," Agatha mutters. "Maybe even the argument was planned, so that you would separate and be dealt with easier. Have there been any attempts since then by the Destroyer's minions to acquire Knightsteeds?"

Hannah listens to the "talk" between Agatha and Ahearn, clearly absorbing every word of the tale. Chanticleer shifts under her -- perhaps restlessly, having stood still for so long -- and she pats his neck absently, not really focusing on his movements.

I am not sure, Ahearn answers After the waters closed over me, I could hear a howl of winds, and then -- nothing. An eternity of silence, darkness, the void -- or an instant. I thought I would go mad, or that I already had. I tried to remember the world, the herd, Redmane, but nothing seemed clear to me in that place which was not a place. Then I saw a figure, like the outline of a horse, limned in fire.

It seemed to me this ghost was going somewhere, in this place where there was nowhere to go. I tried to follow it, but it soon passed beyond my reach. But I felt as though I were, in some way, close to the edge. I could smell fresh grass and a spring breeze against my mane. I focused on that, visualized myself running toward the grass -- and then, I found myself in the Green Hills again. That ... was at most a few months ago, if that. Winter was already drawing nigh. I have been gathering the herds since then.

Agatha's eyebrows raise up, and gooseflesh crawls along her arms. "That ... is surprising. It has been 13 Years since you and Redmane left on your last mission."

The stallion nods. So I have gathered. Of that time, I experienced nothing. The Knightsteeds have scattered farther and farther since our departure, and many are in distant places, serving the Houses, like Fiona. They have not yet forgotten me, but they forget each other. I fear what may have become of some, in our absence. Old stories tell of the Vyglari searching the hills, and the Knightsteeds evading them.

Hannah looks to Agatha. "Do you know what this void might be that Lord Ahearn speaks of? I have not read about any such thing in my study of the legends ... I thought perhaps you might have some idea?" As she speaks, Chanticleer again shifts his position, moving his head in the direction opposite from which she faces. Hannah flicks her eyes downward for a moment, but she soon re-focuses her attention on Agatha.

A few months ago, locally, could have been when Tristan brought me through the Siege of Wind, Agatha thinks, and wonders at the significance. "Limbo, it sounds like. Ahearn is fey ... but what happens to fey souls when the body eventually dies?"

I am no theologian. But if there were souls in that void, other than myself and the fiery ghost, they had neither presence nor substance to them, Ahearn says, firmly.

Hannah frowns in thought. "Well, no one knows for sure what awaits them after death until they reach that moment, do they? I have always believed, however, that one's soul passes on to be judged for its actions in life. From there, who can say?" The fae girl shrugs.

"Still, you are the only one who has come back and remembers what happened to yourself, Ahearn," Agatha says. "Thomas and Nymuae recall their lives the clearest, and even they don't remember what happened when they last faced the Destroyer. But their deaths were never confirmed. If all of us were cast into this Limbo, could it be that some of us were able to pass on into humans?" Throwing her arms up, she sighs. "Either we're meant to be back now, according to the enemy's plan, or we're here despite it. The only one with the answer is the Destroyer."

And you go to him now. The stallion watches Agatha, his gaze unreadable.

Agatha nods to the giant stallion, and asks, "But you don't feel any need to seek out the answer from him, do you?"

I do not want his answers, no. The stallion stomps at the snow, spraying white flakes into the air. I want his destruction. I want an end to lies, threats, fears, illusions. I want my world back. I want ... He stops.

"You want Redmane back," Agatha guesses, leaning forward a bit. "If you were able to escape your prison, then she should be able to as well, right?"

I did not see her fall, Ahearn repeats. He snorts into the cold air, shaking his mane out.

Agatha looks to Hannah with concern. "This changes things a bit," she says. "We'd been assuming that the Lord Protector was being held physically captive underground in the west. But this description of a void could easily match what we know of Lord Mel's prison as well."

Hannah appears to be about to say something in response to this -- but suddenly, she turns in her saddle and gasps, startled. Standing in the snow only a few inches behind her and her own mount is a piebald mare - apparently, she did not hear the mare approaching, so absorbed was she in listening to the conversation between Agatha and Ahearn. For her part, the mare does not seem at all bothered by Hannah's unexpected movement, but merely blinks and snorts once before returning to her inspection of the bags hanging from Chanticleer's saddle.

Hannah looks to Ahearn for some sort of explanation. "One of your, ah, herd, Lord Ahearn?" she asks.

Agatha also shows surprise at the silent appearance of the mare, and hopes Trolls aren't as quiet.

The stallion snorts. Apparently I am not the only one with an interest in you. Lyrit, were you not told to stay with the others? He sounds as much amused as annoyed.

Hannah takes a moment to recover, then chuckles quietly. Quirking an eyebrow in the piebald's direction, she says, "Finding anything of interest about my bags, milady? Or do you wish to examine my pockets and pouches, as well?"

For a moment, the mare raises her head and looks at Hannah, apparently communicating some sort of reply to her. Hannah's eyes widen for a moment, then she abandons her reserve and laughs aloud. Turning back to the others, she says, "It seems that Lyrit did not find anything of interest in my clothing, so she thought she'd inspect my saddlebags, instead." Her eyes twinkle. "I have some chunks of dried apple in one of them, so I can understand why they might be more appealing to her."

"She's not here because of some problem with the herd then?" Agatha asks.

Ahearn flicks his tail. Mares. She's here because she's curious. Not to mention insolent. He directs a lazy nip by way of rebuke at Lyrit.

Agatha grins. "Well, I guess we've learned what we can here, Ahearn, thank you. Hannah and I have to try and cut off Thomas before he reaches the Icejaw Pit, though," she says. "You're welcome to come along if you like. We hope to free Lord Melchizedek and thwart the Destroyer, after all."

Your friend ventures to Icejaw? I am not surprised you seek to forestall him. Ahearn faces Agatha as he answers. You are not Redmane, he repeats from earlier. But if you oppose the Destroyer, then I will help you, Agatha Cunningham, in any way that I can. This time, I will not back down.

"Then let the legends gather once more!" Agatha declares, drawing her sword and stabbing at the sky with it.

Hannah looks to Agatha with flashing eyes. "And let us hope that we may bring an end to all of the Destroyer's illusions -- once and for all."

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