Fawnlum stood with Baneck at the door, before the lightless dawn.  She had her vest lifted up, exposing her back to his view.

“Yes, there’s bruises there.”

She let the garment drop back down, and re-cinched the front strings.  Then she gave a long, satisfied, full-body stretch.

She leaned closer to him with a sly tone.  “You’ve never given me one of your massages that firmly before.”

Her future husband held up a half-closed hand.  “Working in the forge will do that.”

She took his hand and looked him in the eye, and gently grazed her teeth over his knuckles, slowly, one at a time.

“Keep building your strength, luv.  When we’re married and truly lay together, you’ll need every bit of it.”

He smiled smugly up at her.  “I could say the same for you.”

She giggled and they shared another quick kiss.

“Don’t forget what I said.  Eat more.”  And then she exited, Icefire strapped to her back, and Bloodheim, the saber given to her by King Dregor for defeating Felldrake, slung over her shoulder.

<*>                                                          <*>                                                      <*>

Back at Klingger’s, she walked in, refreshed as a new day.

Her comrades were all up already, and gathered around the table.  The dwarves must have also stayed overnight, as they were also present.  With the extra bodies, it looked like a proper war-council meeting.  Morgy and Torsar were with them, as Sienna was explaining how their latest battles had gone.

Unable to help herself, Fawnlum walked up, fully disrupting the discussion, and laid Icefire in the middle of the table.  The weapon’s sudden appearance brought a quick hush.

Since she had been interrupted, Sienna was the first to reach out with one long arm, and pick up the magnificent weapon.

As someone spoke up and said, “Let the rest of us see,” Morgy pulled Fawnlum aside.

“Viognia was very upset at hearing about your choice of venue,” the lady dragon told her.

Fawnlum looked at her quizzically.

“She was expecting you to go into Humboldt proper.”

Sudden understanding dawned on her.  “I found a great battle here,” she said, in her defense.

“Oh, Fawnlum.  Where is your remorse?  Being so headstrong, when Viognia did so much for you.”

“Well, for all the foes I’ve killed here – “

Morgy stopped her with a shake of her head.  “Saving this farmland is vital for countless people, yes.  But the royalty has to set their priorities based on a different point of view.  Viognia sees the need to stop the tide of enemies who tread on her beloved kingdom and its interior.”

“What steel is this?” came Gritcomb’s remark in the background, along with the chime a small peg-hammer, tapping against the flat of Icefire’s blade.

Fawnlum leaned a little closer.

“Far be it from me to upset her,” she told Morgy, “but I’m not leaving.”

Morgy pursed her lips in the face of her stubbornness.

“Whatever,” Honee remarked, silently appearing beside them.  “Nepta and I have something to share with you and Sienna.  Upstairs.”

Fawnlum collected Sienna and Nepta, and left the others to their own devices.

Once in their room, Fawnlum marveled along with Sienna, as the scout and wizard showed them the Marks adorning their upper backs, and listened with rapt attention, as Nepta brought them up to speed on all Baneck had done.

“These Marks he placed allow us to use our magical items.  I for one have regained much of my spellcasting ability.”

“Very good!” Fawnlum cried with a clap.

But Nepta motioned for silence.  “The significance of this cannot be stressed enough,” she said, looking Fawnlum in the eye.

“How so?”

“The magic of Wintermore has touched the magic of the Starpool Chalice, so I can use it again. Such a thing has never been done before.”

Still Fawnlum looked at her – – brightly, attentively.  She blinked as Nepta nearly rolled her eyes at her.

Nepta clarified, more slowly.  “A magic that can make another magic do something,…” she pointed out, “is a source of control that can redefine magic itself.”

“So,” Fawnlum answered.  “If you wanted to use the magic of another wizard, you could?”

“Or render useless another nation’s warding totems.”

Fawnlum’s eyes went wide, and her mouth hung open in speechlessness.

“Baneck doesn’t know what he has created, and it’s better he remain ignorant.  If word of this ever got out, evil magic-users – and good ones too – would stop at nothing to possess his gift.”

Fawnlum silently digested the information.

“Who is the so-called ‘goodly spirit’ he brought to life in Icefire?” Sienna carefully asked.

“We mustn’t tell,” Honee replied.  “Let Baneck tell you at the right time.”

“As far as the world is concerned,” Nepta said, “Baneck can put his magic into objects.  Yes, it’s Wintermore.  We,” she circled her pointing finger around their quartet, “don’t understand how it works, just that it does.”

“Agreed,” the bigger girls answered in unison.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Honee said, “it’s time for you two to get your Marks.”

 

“Yes,” Egress quietly agreed, as he looked up from his crystal ball, alone in his study.

“There’s no need to know how it works,” he said, echoing the young woman.  “Just that it does.”

“Master,” he quietly added, “no wonder you were so interested in the Coast of Storms.”

<*>                                                          <*>                                                      <*>

“I don’t like it,” Sienna continued saying, as the moment got closer.  “The magic of the Coast has a place in our lives.  The rest of our strength comes from within; and I would not have a mark containing strange magic placed on my skin.”

“It might protect you when an evil wizard is trying to hurt you,” Nepta logically explained.  “In this place, with that great dark cloud and the shrooms, evil magic is all around us.  Let us be prepared.”

“Hmph.”

“She’s convinced,” Honee said, as Fawnlum led Baneck into their room.

With Morgy holding Trejur, a little vapor rose up as Baneck cast, and a new Mark was placed.

For a few moments, with Baneck covering his eyes, they admired the ornate, blue-hued designs added to their upper backs, each one different for each woman.

“But tell me,” Sienna asked Baneck, after they were covered back up, “what do these Marks mean, exactly?”

He briefly explained his principle behind the names, which referred to Friends of Wintermore.

“So the magic knows us, eh?  And what is the Friend’s name that Wintermore will know me by?”

He took her aside, and quietly whispered in her ear, “Wintermore will know you as, ‘Vallwenn’.”

It was a moniker from the ancient barbarian language, which Vongilor had brought from the north.

More of an idea in the old dialect than an actual term, it was a variation of a foot soldier, referring to a ‘guardian’; or in this sense, a faithful soldier – – first to stand, and last to fall, between her people and an enemy.

As steeped in tradition as the young woman was, she saw the implications, and gave a nod of approval.

 

Baneck put his own hooded cloak back on, and, with Honee and Torsar accompanying him, went back to his hideout.