All Roads Lead to Amber (Artemis & Beatrice)

Artemis / Beatrice (1100 a.c.)

It was a long road, and every step Beatrice took the sky at her back grew darker. There was a storm on her heels, and no amount of movement seemed to outpace it. Misfortune dogged her steps, and a particularly rocky section forced Beatrice to proceed on foot. The rock-strewn path threatened to turn her ankle or gash her shin with each pace, and her progress slowed to that of a snail. That was when she smelt the burning. How close to Amber she was, she couldn't really tell, but it seemed to her it was still a long way. If she hoped to see fabled Arden when she crested the rise, she was to be disappointed.

The slopes below were a wall of flame, deflecting her path. She knew to quickest way was through that inferno, but it seemed impassable. For the first time, her spirits flagged. Thunder rolled, and lighting distantly cracked. She was about to turn away when something made her pause. Among the blackened branches, something emerged.

It was quick, no more than a shadow at first, then it began to advance purposefully up the slope. As she watched, the shape resolved itself into a woman, covered in soot. Despite the hill, she broke into a run, heading straight for Beatrice. She was not very tall, but lean and athletic, dressed only in what looked like a cotton shift - or what was left of it. Her face had no expression, her gaze focused. Across her back was strapped a gladius, and she seemed to have no other possessions.

Beatrice stared down the hill at the woman for a moment or two, letting her get closer. This was the first human she'd seen in... hours? It felt like hours - she was getting tired. She was in jeans and sneakers and a comfortable shirt, a sweater knotted around her waist and a matching ribbon tying most of her hair back; some of it had escaped, framing her face with its own red fire.

She hadn't been quite sure what to expect; in all his talking, her father had never quite described the road to Amber, not in full. She'd pieced together the bits and pieces through the years, but she still felt under-prepared. The fire was a surprise, but then there had been more than a few of those today.

It dawned on her, after a moment or two, that the woman was headed at her, and she pressed back against the great white horse by her side, managing to get mostly out of the way. She called out, "Hello?"

The woman kept on coming, only to stop suddenly a short distance away. She eyed Beatrice across the distance with bright eyes of aquamarine, studying her carefully as perspiration ran delicate rivulets through the veil of ash that coated her skin. Her hair was pulled back, but a loose curl escaped across her forehead, shining a golden hue of copper in the sunlight.

"You are Beatrice, niece of Bleys of Amber."

It was more a statement than a question, but something about the tone of her voice implied a response was necessary.

Beatrice stared at the woman blankly for a moment; her eyes were green, like the leaves of trees - green like her father's. "Ah-" she said after a moment, her voice accented with the green hills of Ireland and sounding not entirely confident. "Yes. Who are you?"

"I am Artemis of Hellene," she replied in her own alien accent, "I have travelled far to find you." Her eyes flicked from Beatrice to the horse, then back again. "The path you walk should not be trod alone. There are things out there," she gestured back towards the inferno. "They are coming for us; the Blood of Amber."

"Things?" Beatrice moved slightly out of the shadow of the horse, her hand still resting on his neck. "What kinds of things?" And then something else that had been said percolated through. "Us - Blood of Amber - you mean that you're part of my," she hesitated, as if she wasn't sure she was using the right word, "family?"

Artemis nodded, "that is so, cousin." She glanced backward again, as if expecting something to emerge from the flames. "There are things out of nightmare stalking us," she said. "Best to concentrate on the path ahead. As long as we keep going, all will be well."

Beatrice took a deep breath, calming herself and trying to focus on the task at hand. "Then we should go. But - which way?" She looked back at the storm and then ahead at the flames. "Sideways? I don't think we can go back the way we came..." Her 'we' included the horse, it seemed; her hand slid up his neck slightly to tangle in his mane.

Artemis gazed at the horse and smiled for the first time. Underneath the grime, she was probably quite pretty. "Sideways, yes. We shall find some flat ground, where horses can stretch their legs." She pointed to the South West. The view was obscured by smoke, but her confidence was reassuring. "What's he called?" She asked, admiring the stallion.

"His name is Loyal," Beatrice said. The stallion lowered his head and looked at the two women with a bright, intelligent eye, and then turned his nose towards the southwest.

"πιστός," Artemis said with a smile, rolling the word around her tongue. She took a few tentative paces forward. "This is no ordinary horse, I think. He is beautiful."

"He is not ordinary, that's for sure," Beatrice agreed. "He would appreciate a less rocky way, I'm sure," she agreed, smiling a little herself. She had relaxed a little now; the fire and the storm were still a concern, but at least she wouldn't have to go directly through them. "Is there a safe path? How quickly do we need to go?"

"Follow me," Artemis said, "there is a trail over here." She walked over to the left a short way, then cut sharply back in a zig-zag pattern. She walked quicker on her bare feet than some men could jog, despite her size. "Come," she said cheerily, and waved Beatrice over.

Beatrice followed - slower, and clearly watching both her own feet and Artemis's as they cut back and forth. The stallion trailed behind. "Do we have far to go?" she asked curiously.

Artemis shrugged. "Depends how many detours we have to make," she answered.

A few paces further and the path was wider and flatter. She knelt by the ground and ran her hand over the surface.

"We can ride here," she pronounced, and looked about her. The smoke was thinner here, and the land seemed greener. "You can ride fast?" She enquired.

"Yes," Beatrice agreed. "As fast as he feels is safe."

"Good," Artemis smiled. "Let's go down among those trees," she suggested. "There is grassland beyond, where the fire cannot follow. Then you can tell me of your home, and I will tell you of mine," she added, shifting the sword across her back to her hip.

"I'd like that," Beatrice agreed gently. "Should I get back on now or wait?" She paused, and then smiled. "I'm missing the obvious question now; where is your horse?"

"In those woods somewhere," Artemis said with a smile. "Have you walked the Pattern, or is this your first pilgrimage?"

"This is my first trip," Beatrice replied. "My father didn't see fit to bring me here." The last was quiet but matter-of-fact. "Have you walked this way before?"

"Not exactly this way," Artemis said, "but I have been to Amber three times. Each time it is different until you see the Forest of Arden. Arden is eternal." She said the last part as if she loved that place dearly. There was a longing in her voice, an inflection that was lacking in most of her speech. "Follow, please. I think there might be a stream down there. Perhaps Loyal would like a drink before we start, hmm?"

Beatrice looked up at the stallion and nodded. "I think he would."

As she followed Artemis to the stream, she asked, "What other ways have you come? Do they all have dangers on the path?"

"It has never been as bad as now," Artemis replied with a touch of sadness. "It began with strife between brothers, now it seems the elements themselves are fighting. The paths I took before will have changed. There would be traps where before I could take my ease. At least now we can watch each other's backs."

She moved downstream of where the horse was drinking and began to meticulously wash off the ash and debris from her skin. She loosed her hair and attempted to comb it out with her fingers, only to get frustrated. Feeling slighty fresher, she got to her feet and looked around.

"Back in a moment," she said, and trotted off with silent steps.

Artemis returned a few moments later from the brush with a chestnut brown horse, which had reins but no saddle. Artemis seemed quite pleased with herself

Beatrice scrubbed at her face with a handful of water while Loyal drank, recovering a little of her own energy. She stayed crouched for a few minutes there at the stream-bank, looking into the water, and then shook herself and rose. When Artemis returned, she was leaning against her stallion's shoulder, detangling a section of his mane with one hand. She smiled and said, "Oh, that's a lovely horse as well. Is he named?"

"Kυνηγός [Kineegos]; Hunter," Artemis replied. She let him drink from the stream before leaping onto his back. Perhaps she felt more comfortable without a saddle, since it didn't seem to bother her in the least. "If you're ready, we better get moving," she said.

"Of course." Beatrice swung up onto Loyal's back, using the handful of mane she'd been picking at and the saddle; it was clear she had some experience mounting and riding. The stallion was bridled as well as saddled, but she didn't touch the reins, not even once she'd mounted. "I'm ready."

Artemis quietly urged her mount forward, and soon they were once more in the sunshine. She progressed at a gentle trot, and seemed happy at that. Watchful at first, she seemed to relax after a few minutes and turned towards Beatrice. "Have you travelled far to get here?" She asked.

Beatrice rode along beside her easily, the reins still slack on her mount's neck. "I'm not sure. It feels like it's been hours - but I'm not sure how fast we were going..." She trailed off. "How do you measure the distance, anyway? Father never explained that."

Artemis smiled. "I was never told, either. I just go with what my body tells me. If I feel like sleeping, I sleep, even if I can do without it. It helps count the days. I haven't seen the sun set in weeks, but I know how much time has passed by the number of times I've slept. If it only took you hours to get here, your home can't be all that far from Amber. It usually takes me twenty-one days from Hellene to get to the fringes of Arden."

Beatrice considered the idea for a minute or so. "It could have been as much as a day," she said thoughtfully. "It's been hard to measure how much time has passed." She shrugged slightly after another moment of thought. "I guess I'll be able to figure it out later... Could you tell me something of Hellene?"

A faraway look came across Artemis' face as she talked of the land she came from. There was wonder in her words, but also a little sadness, as if she doubted she would see her home again.

"It is an ancient land, with deep oceans of crystal clear water, and mountains that reach up to Heaven. Every stream, hill, moor or tree has a spirit of its own, and a timeless beauty. The people are a simple folk, in the main, but the kings are haughty and grand, as I suppose they are anywhere," she said. "There are probably more goats than people, but the cities are proud and the streets clean. I've seen many worse places."

"My grandmother was a herbalist, but my mother made a pact with the goddess of the moon and practiced magic. That marked us as different from the moment we were born, and the Hellenes thought we were children of the gods. We had temples raised to us, just simple columns and tiles, but that simple faith made us feel wanted. It was difficult for me to leave this time, knowing that if something happened they would be looking to me to help them. The gods of Hellene are a wrathful lot, but I tried to offer what comfort I could. That was little enough, I suppose, but then mother always had other things in mind for me." She sighed and examined the horizon, as if searching for something.

"That sounds lovely... Do you have siblings at home?" Beatrice asked, sounding a little wistful herself.

"Not any more," Artemis replied. "Tell me of your home, Beatrice," she bade, clearly not wishing to dwell on the subject.

A look of sympathy crossed Beatrice's face, but she didn't press.

"My home is Ireland," she said simply. "Ireland of the green hills and poetry, of music and the sea. There were gods there once, they say, and Fae - but they were long gone before my time, before even the Troubles began. They say you can find where they walked, in barrows and faerie rings, in the caerns where they lie waiting for the need and the belief to raise them again. In the meantime, logical minds try to disprove their very existence..."

Artemis frowned disapprovingly, but didn't interrupt.

She sighed softly. "I was nothing and no one but what I made myself, from a little town that no one would have known if it were not for the famous Poet who made his home there. My mother... died... when I was young; Father set me servants to keep me safe and train me up. I wrote stories and sold them when I was old enough..." She smiled and added, "I suppose one day I might be a reason to visit there too."

"You are a poet too?" Artemis asked. "It sounds like you are in the right place for it. I'm afraid Calliope never blessed me that way."

"Not a poet, exactly," Beatrice corrected gently. "A story writer. I've never really tried poetry; I'd much rather the words flow together than on separate lines." She smiled a little easier now. "Ireland is the right place for the poets and the musicians; we've a long tradition of it, back to the beginnings of our lines and to the gods we worshipped in the dim past. The narrative, the play - these are more recent types, but not less respected because of it." Her smile turned a little wry. "Respect, I fear, doesn't always mean the ability to get rich from it, but it is nice to have the respect of your people for the abilities you were gifted with."

Artemis nodded. "There are greater riches than money, and respect is one. Great artists have no need of coin; hospitality at every hearth is guaranteed. At least, that's how it is in Hellene."

With quiet interest, Beatrice asked, "Do you create in some other way, perhaps? Painting?"

Artemis shook her head. "I'm afraid my training did not allow time for such things. I was required to be very focused, and not distracted by what my mother regarded as trivial matters. I can weave, but nothing to make Ariadne blush."

"It doesn't have to make anyone blush," Beatrice answered, "as long as you enjoy it. What kind of training did you do?"

There was a pregnant pause, perhaps as Artemis tried to think of a way to put it nicely. In the end, she chose the direct approach. "I was trained to kill," she answered, without inflection. No pride, no boastfulness, just a simple statement of fact. "I think I would rather have been a painter or a poet."

"Why?" Beatrice asked, curious. "Ah - why were you trained to kill? You don't make it sound like you had a choice in the matter..."

"I didn't... that is, we didn't," Artemis replied. "We were taught from the cradle to obey, and it never occurred to us to question. Not until...until she asked too much." She looked away and her knuckles whitened on the reins. "May Zeus and Hera forgive me."

"How well do know your father?" She asked suddenly. "Would you trust him, even when everything you had been taught told you not to?"

Beatrice stiffened slightly. "Well enough to know not to trust him with anything," she said. "I learned before I could read that there was good and evil to him, and the one could become the other for no reason I could see..." She shook her head. "You cannot trust a being like that, not for the world."

Artemis looked saddened by that. "I suppose I should not be surprised. Perhaps I was naive to believe there was one person in the world who would always know best."

"Please do not judge me by my past, Beatrice. I would like us to be friends, especially knowing what perils might lie on the road ahead," she said.

"There may yet be one," Beatrice offered quietly. "My father wasn't that one, that's all." She smiled a little. "I'd like to be friends too. I learned growing up to not judge anyone too much by their past, Artemis; my country spent a long time trying to be free of a neighbor, and there are many perfectly nice people in my home town that did what they thought they had to in the past..."

"War can turn the nicest people into monsters," Artemis agreed. "Yet after the event succeeding generations can paint it in such glorious terms, and dress it up in kind words and tales. The reality is horror seeming without end. At least, that's how it seemed to me."

"They don't always wait until after the event." Beatrice shook her head. "They make martyrs of the dead while the battle still goes on, and martyrs mean glory to some people. It's not a kind sort of glory, but it's glory all the same. I've never seen a war, but I never thought it was a glorious thing either."

"It's not," Artemis said. "I don't know much about the cult of the martyr, but I've heard. I don't understand why people would choose death over life. Struggle is one thing, but wanton loss of life is another. Life is a precious gift, brought forth with blood and pain. I do not understand how some people can be so careless with it." She looked up then at the sky. "Helios runs before us. Soon night will come and show us the way. There is a constellation that shows itself when we are close enough to Amber. Follow Orion's arrow, and we will be in Arden ahead of the storm." She kicked her heels and Hunter picked up the pace.

"They don't think they're being careless," Beatrice answered. "They believe that they're spilling their own blood for future generations - the death of one in exchange for the life of many." She shook her head and sighed. "The only purpose it serves in practical use is to further inflame both sides of the argument and make the whole thing worse."

Loyal kept pace without any urging from Beatrice as she added, "It's strange - you've used several names I know from the stories of other countries in my home. It sounds like the gods of Hellene are much like the old gods of that place."

"That's possible," Artemis replied. "As I understand it, powerful entities cast reflections of themselves all over the cosmos. I don't think I've been around long enough, thankfully," she smiled. "I'm not sure how I'd react to meeting my reflection."

"What gods do they worship in your homeland, Beatrice?" she asked. "Do they interfere in the conflicts of men?"

"I don't know if the gods ever interfered on Earth," Beatrice answered. "If they did, it was long, long ago - before the life of anyone alive now." She fell silent for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts. "There is one major god; a great deal of the world worships that god, although they do it in different ways. There are a few that have revived worship of old gods, ones that had not been worshipped in two thousand years, and there is a group that worships a huge number of gods - I wonder sometimes if thye know how many they do worship. There are also people who believe that there are no gods, and people who are sure that there's something out there, but they don't know what it is." She smiled and shrugged. "I'm afraid my world is not very coherent sometimes."

"Earth," Artemis repeated, as if remembering something important. Her mouth formed a small 'o' for a few moments, before she recovered her composure. "Sounds like a very strange place," she concluded. "Perhaps you should borrow a few of Hellene's gods for a while. That would soon cure your world of those who do not believe."

Beatrice smiled. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea. There are battles over religion all the time at home; I can only imagine what it would be like if gods walked among us." She tucked a straying strand of red hair behind her ear, hesitated, and asked, "Have you heard of Earth?"

"Yes," Artemis answered. "I think father has visited, along with most of my aunts and uncles. It seems to be one of their favourite playgrounds. I wonder what it is that draws them there?"

"It can't just be the women," she smiled sideways at Beatrice.

Beatrice laughed softly and shrugged. "I don't know. Or rather, I know why my father was there, and I knew there were a few others in the area, but I didn't ever meet them to ask." She sighed. "I grew up there, so I know why I'll be back."

"No doubt those stories will be told when they are ready to be heard," Artemis replied. "As long as Amber prevails, your home will be there to go back to. I envy you that."

Her eyes went to the horizon, and she broke into a smile. She pointed to where mountains were rising to meet the sun as it dipped, casting long shadows. A single star, a brilliant point of light revealed itself in the changing aura of the skyline.

"Aphrodite shows us the way," she says, and urged Hunter to a gallop. The ground was flat and grassy and soon they were at full pace, Artemis' hair flowing behind her like a comets' tail.

- - - - - - - - - -

Beatrice and her mount dropped a step or so behind but kept pace, Beatrice with a bit of mane in hand for extra balance. "At home," she called to Artemis, raising her voice above the wind created by their passage, "we call that light Venus - another name for Aphrodite, if I remember my stories correctly..."

"That's right," Artemis nodded, letting Beatrice ride alongside. "All the stars are named after immortals. It is their mark on the cosmos. Aphrodite's star is always the first to rise. Not much further, and we will see our guide." The grass grew more lush beneath them, and the ground less firm and more to the horse's liking. They were making good progress.

"Are they even named like that in Amber?" Beatrice asked with interest.

"I don't think so," Artemis replied, "but those are the names I always use. Sometimes the angles are different, but they are still recognisable to me. I daresay there are constellations for the unicorn and her descendants, but then, they don't seem so very different from the Olympians sometimes."

Beatrice took a few minutes to consider that idea. "I guess so." She smiled. "It seems strange to me that your gods walk among you. I know the old stories, of course, but no one alive has seen one in our world. How do you handle that?"

Artemis shrugged. "I'd been brought up among them, so I didn't think it unusual. Mine was hardly a conventional upbringing, I'll grant you. I saw that they were as flawed as anyone else; it's just that when they made mistakes more people seemed to suffer for it. Nothing was ever small scale with them around - it really was feast or famine."

"Oh." Beatrice fell silent again, then smiled brilliantly. "I've been asking you all the questions, Artemis; do you have any for me?"

"Just one," Artemis said returning Beatrice's smile. "What do you intend to do when you get to Amber?"

"I... hadn't thought of it," Beatrice answered, sounding slightly surprised. "I have a feeling I'm going to be so busy learning things," she sighed slightly, "and probably unlearning a few, that I won't have time to think."

"I would like to see Tir-na Nog'th," she added after a moment. "There is an echo of it in the myths of my home, and I'm curious..."

Artemis nodded. "That's understandable, but you'll need to speak to the Regent first. Access is restricted at the moment, I believe. You may have to wait until the war is over, but I'm sure it will be worth it."

"Oh, I wasn't planning to go up there yet," Beatrice said quickly. "I just want to see it."

"Don't take too much of Amber's bad habits home, though," she counseled. "Just because they tell you something is right doesn't mean it is. Be yourself, above all else."

"Bad habits?" Beatrice frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Amber is the centre of all things, or so they say," Artemis said. "It may be the home of the Pattern, but that does not make anything else less real. It seems to be the habit of the Blood of the Unicorn to forget the worlds that nurtured them."

"With the possible exception of Earth," she added. "At least there are others who share your love of your homeland."

"Who else?" Beatrice asked. "I think I remember Father mentioning Aunt Flora..."

Artemis nodded. "Florimel and Corwin, if I recall correctly. Possibly others, but no-one's keeping count." She drew rein on Hunter, slowing to a stop as the stars began to draw their patterns across the velvet sky. Artemis drew lines in the air, inviting Beatrice to join the points of light in her imagination. "That is Orion's bow, and his arrow," she said. "If you follow that constellation, you will always find Arden."

Beatrice nodded. "It's Orion in my world, too - always fleeing the scorpion through the sky..." She smiled again suddenly. "Thank you for bringing me with you, Artemis, and for answering my endless questions."

"It was my duty, and my pleasure," Artemis replied. She looked back the way they had come, and there was only a ghost of a frown on her face. "The storm seems to have abated - the worst of it, at least. You should have no trouble from here. Would you like me to travel with you a little further? I will understand if you wish to enter the great realm alone."

"I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?" Beatrice asked. "If I'm not - could you stay with me a while longer? It would be nice to have someone I know along."

"By all means," Artemis replied. "Your welfare is my prime concern. I can't promise you a warm welcome at court, but at least I can provide introductions. Have you seen the family tarot? Would you recognise them all if you met them?"

"I think I would," Beatrice said thoughtfully. "Father taught me to make them, but he only showed me the full deck a few times. I'm not sure what he thought I would do with them..." She shook her head. "I'm not sure how much I remember of them; I have always been best with words."

Artemis' eyes were wide with wonder. "You make them? That's wonderful! I had thought that art was lost, long ago. Do you have any sketches with you? I would love to see them..." She suddenly remembered herself, and she quickly reined in her enthusiasm. "Once we are safely within the borders of Arden, of course."

Beatrice smiled brightly. "I did bring one," she offered. "It's not the best - I was in a hurry, with a great white beastie waiting impatiently on the lawn," she patted Loyal fondly on the neck, "but I'd be happy to show you."

Artemis beamed in return; it was a bright, girlish smile that she had not had hitherto, with a twinkling of excitement illuminating her eyes. "Thank you," she said happily. She glanced skyward. "Soon the moon will light our way, and we can pick up the pace again."

It seemed but a short time before their way was brightened enough to move at a canter down the path, and light woods gave way to a denser, older forest. Wolves called distantly, though Artemis did not remark on it. They came upon a cairn, and she drew rein.

"We can stop here until daybreak," she explained, and dismounted with hardly a sound. She made a quick circuit of the pile of stones, then bent down pull some things out of what seemed to be a concealed pit. "It's not much," she said, "but it will give a little more comfort than leaves and grass." From a rough canvas bag she pulled out a bedroll and blanket, which she laid out with practiced swiftness. She then sat down cross-legged and smiled. "Now, you must show me this masterpiece."

"It's no masterpiece," Beatrice protested, smiling. "It's not too bad, though." She fished around in the slim saddlebags attached to Loyal's saddle and produced a thick book. She settled down next to Artemis with the book in hand; it was a leather-bound volume titled "The Poetry of W. B. Yeats." She opened it to the front cover and produced a small colored sketch.

There are clearly hints that she can do better in the lines of her drawing, but it's better than she seems to think it is. The image is of a large stone house amidst green hills; parts of the fencing in the yard is falling down, and the house itself has seen better days. There are wildflowers in the lawn and not much grass; the whole place has an air of age that was once misused but has since fallen into better care. The curtains in the windows are blues and greens with delicate hints of lace.

"That's my house," Beatrice offered quietly.

Artemis' expression softened, and something like longing drifted across her face as she gazed at it, taking in every detail. "It's wonderful," she breathed. She then turned, placing her hand on Beatrices'. "You must promise me you will never stop painting these. I have heard so many wonderful artists say their work is not good enough. You are blessed with a gift, Beatrice, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Beatrice smiled brightly. "I wouldn't dream of stopping," she answered truthfully. "I enjoy the work - I just hate rushing it. That one was so quickly done... I know I can do better - I've done better in the past - and so I wish it was more complete."

"Let me show you something," Artemis said, and hunted inside the lining of her shift. It was hard to believe something could be safely stashed within, but she produced a small portrait, about the same size as the image she had been shown. The face on the portrait was Beatrice's, though she appeared younger. She did not recognise the style. "This is what I used to help me find you. Father gave it to me," Artemis explained. "It's not a proper trump, but it might have taken me months to track you without it."

Beatrice stared at it with a troubled expression. "I," she started, and stopped. "Did he say where he got this?"

"No, he didn't. It seemed impolite to ask," Artemis replied. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly," Beatrice answered. She sighed. "I just didn't realize that anyone else had seen me besides Father. It's unexpected." She shrugged and smiled ruefully.

Artemis smiled. "Oh, come now. I'm sure everyone within fifty miles of your house could give an accurate description of you. An artist doesn't need to have actually seen someone to paint their picture."

"But," Beatrice objected, "that still leaves the question of who was there and looking for descriptions of me." She shrugged again after a moment and added, "I guess I'll find out one day."

"Well without them I might not have found you," Artemis said. "For that, at least, I am grateful."

"Do you mind if I keep it?" She asked hopefully.

"Of course you can keep it," Beatrice answered, offering a brighter smile. "I don't mind at all."

"Thank you," Artemis beamed, returning it to its hideaway. "Now would you like to rest or keep watch? I don't mind either way."

"I could use a nap," Beatrice admitted. "But promise you'll wake me up in a little while; I don't mind watching, and it's unfair I'd be if I insisted on being the only one to sleep."

"Rest well," Artemis said. "I'll wake you when it's time." That said, she walked to the fringe of the forest, gathering wood at the edge of the clearing for a fire.

Beatrice returned her book to the saddlebags and curled up to doze. She was aware of Artemis moving around, and the flickering of a fire. The other woman hummed an unfamiliar tune for a while, then there is a long silence, punctuated by the crackle of the fire.

The sky is beginning to change colour by the time smells of cooked meat rouse Beatrice from her slumber. Artemis sits cross-legged roasting a rabbit on a spit. There is a primitive-looking bow and arrow by her side.

" 'Morning. Sorry, I didn't have the heart to wake you. I made breakfast..." she offered. "I hope you're not a vegetarian."

Beatrice stretched and sat up. "It's okay," she said quietly, smiling a little. She eyed the rabbit thoughtfully. "I'm not used to rabbit for breakfast, but I'm no vegetarian. I'm quite fond of bacon, actually..."

Artemis chuckled. "I wasn't going to run around the forest chasing wild boar." She glanced up at the sky. "I'll grab a couple of hours' rest while the sun gets above the trees, if you don't mind. There's not much light on the path at the best of times." She took up her place on the blanket and settled down. It was noticeable she laid her sword next to her right hand, as a soldier or adventurer would do. Within a few moments, she was apparently asleep.

Beatrice smiled. "Oh, I wouldn't expect you to hunt down a boar just for breakfast. Please, feel free to rest."

She sat by the fire and waited, nibbling at the rabbit as the morning wore on. Every once in a while, she stood and stretched quietly, working out kinks from her nap and the previous day. Finally she said, "Artemis? I think the sun is above the trees..."

Artemis sat up sharply, keen eyed and alert. She assessed the time and nodded, before beginning to pack away the things. "I need the rest more than I thought," she admitted, combing her hair with her fingers. "I love the forest and the trail, but I do miss a hot bath!"

"Oh, a bath sounds wonderful," Beatrice agreed cheerfully. "And a nice soft bed..." She watched for a moment and then offered, "Is there anything I can do to help clean up?"

"That's alright," Artemis said. "If you could check the horses are ready for the off, I won't be more than a few minutes." The camp was cleared in no time at all, and Artemis carefully packed everything out of sight. Beatrice could easily believe the next shower of rain would wash away all traces of their being there. "Ready!" She announced, and went to check how Beatrice was getting on with their mounts.

Beatrice had the horses well in hand; she was holding Hunter's reins and giving Loyal a good scratch on the neck when Artemis turned to her. "Ready," she agreed. "Will we be stopping again before we reach Amber?"

"I expect we'll have to," Artemis replied. "Uncle Julian doesn't let anyone pass through Forest Arden unchallenged." She leapt onto Hunter's back and adjusted the gladius into position on her hip. "Just remember, if he does set the hounds on us, don't run. He loves a chase." This time Artemis did not smile; she was in deadly earnest.

Beatrice bit her lip slightly and nodded. "I'll remember..."

They rode into the forest at a pace that Beatrice thought was incautious, but Artemis had a fixed look of determination and arguing may have been futile. The forest drew about them like a cloak and the path narrowed, though it remained straight for a time and Artemis spurred Hunter forward at a gallop, even when he began to tire. By the time they were forced to slow as the path began to wind around the trunks of ancient oaks, his mouth was flecked with foam and his eyes wide. Artemis too looked tired; her skin was covered with a sheen of perspiration, though it was not an excessively hot day. The airlessness may have got to her, as she massaged her temples with the fingers of both hands. "It wasn't this hard last time," Beatrice overheard her say, before she urged her mount onwards once more.

Shortly after that, Beatrice heard the horn. They stopped, and Artemis looked upwards, as if looking for the light of the sun. It had disappeared behind a cloud, and there was a chill in the air. The horn sounded again, much closer this time, and Artemis flicked the reins again. "We must get far enough that he can't turn us back," she breathed, though she and the horse she rode looked fit to drop. After ten minutes, the huntsman caught up.

All at once, they seemed to be surrounded by pairs of red eyes and the sound of panting dogs. The trees themselves seemed to gather around them to hem them in, and Artemis did not bother to run, occupying herself by soothing Hunter, who paced the ground in a state of anxiety. A great mass of branches parted revealing the massive, snorting form of a stallion out of nightmare carrying a man in shining white armour. His expression was hidden by an antlered helm, but he held a naked blade in his hand.

"Good day, Prince Julian," Artemis called out. "It is I, Artemis and your niece Beatrice, come to visit our ancestral home and to seek hospitality of the Regent."

Julian snorted and pulled off his helm, looking at the two women sternly. "Amber now has a king. You'd best follow me."