Magic Mirror on the Wall part II

Dear Lucerne,

Once more a magical black wolf has savaged me. These beasts are larger than the ponies we used to race. They have high cunning and seem to hone in on me. The can Porté instantly between locations and have a dangerous knack of attacking from behind. To fight them you need to have a wall at your back. This is the second I have fought and once again I am the only man hurt. I have severe maulings on all my limbs. I wonder if these wolves are a result of that attack in Castille where wolves were ported to battle but instead of going mad they gained an innate Porté ability. The only mercy is that I was not wearing my good clothes as I was attacked while asleep. The others belatedly helped me to finish the beast off. With the sore loss of Von Tannen and now Borstennskoldmond absent the companions are much diminished. We seem slow to act and foolish.

I manage to bandage up some of my leg wounds and Ambrose helps with the arms. I don't feel well at all. When Piers mentions going to the Chef d'Village I demur. I see our host in private to remonstrate against the rash plans he is being drawn into. He was one of my silent allies at the War College but he always tried to ingratiate himself too much. I tried to point out that the Nouveau Regime was unlikely to tolerate other sorceries or advances for long if the Vaticine's were anything to go by. This new method of teleporting smells of syrne or sidhe. It is not different enough not to bear the suspicion and taint of Porté. Also I wished to mention that I wasn't able to speak freely yesterday as to vouch for all my companions. It was too much of a direct question for my court-trained senses. Pistol is a scoundrel and can only be trusted to be true to himself. Piers has only recently joined the companions. He was vouched for by Borstenn, which is definitely two-edged. Borstenn is the man who seems to get into amazing trouble with his kin and he eats fried black squirrels!

Meanwhile Mordred has flayed the wolf. As the Vendel bought the last skin for gold perhaps the skin has special properties. If you hear anything let me know.

As we were completing brunch a laughing girl-child ran past the door. She was wearing an unusual gossamer green outfit. She left water behind as if she had wet feet or had an 'accident'. She went back to the gallery. We followed the water and found a trail leading to the Avalon picture of a mound. Strangely the paintings we had taken down had been rehung. We found out there were no children in or near the manor. As the child had gone into the picture we thought we should follow. We borrowed our host Pierre-Michel's mirror and went through the mirror myself leading. I saw her running near the bottom of the mound and into a copse of trees.

The weather here was fine and unseasonably warm. We enter the trees and could see the girl run up to a large blackbearded man wearing a gold circlet. She may have referred to him as step-father? Drilling musketeers were following his orders. They were practising charging with bayonets against straw dummies. The dummies were weirdly made up and dressed as women and wore red wigs. The musketeers wore burgundy uniforms and I used my spyglass to see their insignia's. On their cockade they had crossed muskets surmounted by a triple crown. Too late I realised that the sun was on my face. My spyglass may have flashed the sun back towards them. Alas it was so. "Kill the spies" the lord ordered and pointed to us. A company moved to deal with us. We set off back through the copse when I realised that Ambrose was unlikely to be able to outrun them. I saw a good defensible knoll with some fallen trees as cover. The score of musketeers and their officers charged into us. Avon shot some before drawing his blade. I thought our position somewhat desperate. But we have been fighting war hardened Eisen and these recruits were not of the same mettle. They fought well but broke off before we were greatly troubled although I was wounded again. I picked up a hat with cockade as a trophy as we hadn't worked out the meaning of the insignia.

We set off again and someone mentioned that we were very close to Carleon. I felt that we could locate those surgeons who had treated us last time I was here. We slipped through onto the road and set off by Avon's vague direction towards Carleon. Avon often acts like a man in a dream or lost in a fog. He can be maddeningly vague. His instincts are good but sometimes I think he has had a lot of help to survive outside his native environment. He is not alone however. On our way to town we met a wagon and driver going the other way. He was very dim and mentioned that he had a large load of fine Montaigne brandy. He asked if we were brigands as I was injured. He accepted our assurance that we were not. He was not armed and as we milled around the wagon I could see that the mark of Chateau D'Auvergne on the barrels. Only in Avalon it seems do we see a fool and his wealth living together. Why do the canny highlanders and incorrigible innish plague other nations when they have Avalon on their doorstep? It is probably part of the 'glamour' that gives the place a carnival feel on a mundane day.

While I was waiting for the surgeon to tend me the others wandered around town. Ambrose tells me that Piers messed up his collar and went desperately searching for something that he would only know when found. He found a sausage seller who spilt watery gravy over his jacket. They then retired to a dark alley. It was a remarkable display and the remarks flew. Ambrose heard Piers mention "summon secret court".

We then returned to the mound as the sun had dropped behind it. A monster with the body of a gorilla, head of a boar and tail of a snake challenged us. "Those who go on Taureg's mound must pay the toll". Piers quibbled with him. Taureg mentioned that he had been disturbed that morning and he wanted to exact his toll. Piers continued to quibble. We drew weapons when Taureg was about to harvest and eat Piers. The fight was stiff and St Columba smiled on Mordred and he made several telling blows. I didn't do too badly but my old wounds held me back. Once Taureg had lost his edge he shrank in size and ran into a mousehole in the mound.

We rushed up the mound and eventually found our way back using the mirror.

All this leaves more unasked questions than asked and even fewer answers. Like who was the man commanding the drilling troops? Why did they have such bizarre drill dummies? Do they know of the Gate? What are their intentions? Why was the little girl wet? Was it us that woke up Taureg?

Your foolish

Dandelion *