Rand the Rash re-entered his glorious city amongst urine soaked straw and shamefaced men. The farmer was directed to the smaller bailey, and the King entered the castle via the kitchen way, enduring silent, curious stares. He strode to his council chamber and called for his advisors, but before they could assemble, he’d declared war.

It was to be a one-day battle, an afternoon’s sport at the best. Rand acknowledged that the Gibbor had power, but no Seer could withstand the onslaught of a hundred trained men. Alongside his cavalry, Rand had included a squad of archers, the finest in the realm. 

            The Eld Forest was pitiful in the face of such an army. In the space of a few days, the leaves of the sycamores had turned a sickly yellow, the pine needles appeared brittle and spare.

The army milled about, bored and baffled. Rand leaned back in his saddle and signaled for his cupbearer.

            “I don’t relish slaughter, but the man was stiff necked and proud.” His comment was directed to Sir Torpaine, a seasoned veteran who rode at his side. He was flanked on his left by Fulcruchen, resplendent in hammered chain mail over a tunic of bright blue. The others of the original party had already repaired to their homes; Rand had called them cowards to no avail.

            The King, Fulcruchen, and Torpaine rode to the edge of the field that separated the Eld Forest from the main road.

            Torpaine shaded his eyes from the sun. “Sacred forests must be in short supply these days. Is this the best that Jah could do?”

            Rand the Rash shrugged and took a sip. “The fool covered in lice and feathers claimed this was sacred ground.”

            “At least the rock is the right color,” commented Sir Torpaine.

            The white rock, ever conspicuous, sat against the forest’s edge. Today, its surface was not white, but gray, the splashes of Tianne’s tears in stark relief.

            “Once we were inside, the charlatan sought to disguise his poor surroundings with illusion,” offered Fulcruchen. “But the light of day, coupled with our own perceptions, shows us the forest as it really is.”

            Torpaine narrowed his eyes, checking the sun’s position.

            Rather than embark on a full-scale attack, the King began the assault with a squad of archers. They were hard, sure men and rode into the forest at a cantor. The poor wood offered no resistance.