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Prologue the Second

Hawke's Fortress, England, 1129 CE

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A page panted heavily as he rounded the bend in the stairs and flung open the door to the solar, so astonishing its occupants that the young girl yelped mid-sentence and a small tin box sprouted legs and scurried away under the table. A boy in a green linen tunic laughed, but the one he had come to find only set aside her scroll and rose to her feet with a question on her lips.

"What has happened?"

"Riders, my lady," he panted as he pressed the long cylinder into her hands. "They approach from the south."

The woman crossed to the southern most window and raised the spyglass to one eye as she surveyed the countryside for miles around. At first she saw nothing of note but the land and the fields, their contents nearly ripe for the harvest. She clucked tongue and looked once more after whispering under her breath. Riders, yes, a single man with what could pass for a small army or very large hunting expedition and using a detailed glamour to keep any chance passersby from seeing naught but a traveling lord and his few men-at-arms. Under most circumstances she would simply turn a blind eye and return to teaching her niece and nephew, but the times had become treacherous and this particular group was riding straight for the borders of the Hawke's Fortress.

And she recognized that banner.

"I want an armed escort ready now," she told the waiting page. "We'll meet them at our borders to determine if he wishes to parlay."

The page nodded and fled the room at even faster pace than the one upon which he'd entered while the woman turned to the children only to find a mutinous face. "I am Lord here in my father's absence," he reminded her haughtily.

Lady Eleanor merely raised an eyebrow. "Aye, nephew, you are. And were this a simple matter of a stray rider or even a retinue of our Muggle enemies I would allow you to ride at my side as your father's emissary, but the riders who approach are wizards. I'll not expose you to such danger, especially not from this one … he must have spies watching our borders."

"Why?" the boy asked.

His sister snorted. "How else would he have known that Father had departed?"

The boy looked subdued. "Where has Father gone?"

"To the Northlands to see your cousin Rowena," Eleanor answered absently as she led them through the labyrinthine passages to the Great Hall. "Something about that school she has helped found … "

"Will we attend?"

"Aye, Robert, you shall."

"And what of me, Aunt?" the girl demanded. "Will I not also be allowed to be schooled as my brother and other young witches?"

Eleanor stopped at the entrance to the Hall and gazed over her shoulder at her niece. "Nay, Gisela. Your father has asked me to see to your education – "

"But -- "

"'Tis settled," Eleanor interrupted. "You are a Daughter of the Blood, Gisela, as am I. There are things that only I can teach you, things you must learn if you are to teach later Daughters and protect our blood."

Gisela closed her mouth and looked at once chastened and excited; yes, she had been chastised by her cherished aunt, but for her father's sister to speak of the Blood could only mean that she was now old enough to begin those lessons. And she had so eagerly awaited the day she would be deemed ready to begin following in the footsteps of those who had gone before, to become what her aunt and so many others were. To gain the knowledge and power that was not only a birthright but earned and deserved …

To be that much closer to Avalon.

"Stay with Renny," Eleanor told Robert as she finished fastening all but her veil and began tugging Gisela into her outer robes and cloak.

"I am to accompany you?" Gisela whispered in amazement.

Eleanor looked sadly upon the expression of happiness and incredulity that passed over her niece's face. To have to begin to learn so young. Still … "Aye, Gisela. If I am to begin your training then you should know what it is we must needs do upon occasion. You should see the power the Daughters wield in defense of Hawke's Fortress."

And Avalon, though such went unspoken.

***

Perched upon horses, the well-armed group arrived with enough time to watch the final approach of the invaders from the top of a windswept hill. Gisela, acting on her aunt's instruction, kept her silence. She observed each movement, noted every word and studied the dynamics of the situation with the same intensity she brought to her other studies. And while she did so, she also noted how those around her reacted as well. I do as you instruct, she thought without even realizing the irony of her silent actions.

"My lady, who rides towards these lands?" one of the men-at-arms asked. It was Godwin, her father's chief lieutenant, she realized; Gisela had not known he had remained. "I know not that banner, and I have never in thirty years strayed from your brother's side, nor your father's before."

A bitter smile twisted Eleanor's lips. "It is the banner of Antoine de Malfoi, a young upstart wizard with delusions of grandeur. His father came over in the Conqueror's baggage."

Nothing more needed to be said, though Gisela noted that her aunt's hand rested on the hilt of a dagger. Strange, she thought. If they feared an attack, why did Eleanor insist upon her presence?

As the party neared the border a single man broke ranks and rode forward, flanked by two of the burliest looking men Gisela had ever seen in her eight short years. Eleanor also rode forward, flanked by Godwin and another man whose name slipped her mind, and at a discrete signal she, too, inched slightly ahead of the escort though not as far as the others. She watched in awe as Eleanor, brown curls that escaped her veil blowing in the wind, lifted her chin and boldly began the exchange. "What matters have been wrought, Antoine de Malfoi, that you would bring armed wizards and men to the borders of the Hawke's Fortress?"

"I come with Royal Authority," he replied smoothly. "Hawke's Fortress -- "

"Is closed to you and yours," Eleanor interrupted, her voice cold. "As well you know."

Antoine de Malfoi was unable to mask the irritation that crossed his face. "Surely, Lady Eleanor, you may speak for yourself now that your keeper has departed," he sneered, his emphasis making her tighten her hold on the dagger. "A union between our two houses would be most pleasing and advantageous, as I know you have been told. You are no longer of an age to be bound by your brother's word. Why, lady, do you continue to allow him to speak on your behalf?"

A smile played along the edges of Eleanor's lips and de Malfoi looked pleased until the smile gave way to great peals of laughter, so great that she dismounted rather than risk falling from her pillion. "My brother, de Malfoi, does not speak for me," she said once she had regained her breath. "He merely recounts my wishes and abides by them as well. All the words he has spoken on the subject of my marriage have been my own."

"You cannot mean -- "

"I do," Eleanor replied, the steel in voice all too apparent. "And that is all I shall say, de Malfoi. Take your men and leave this place."

"Nay," he snapped. "I have royal approval for the marriage and I shall proceed."

Eleanor snarled. "You have no royal writ and such an excuse is ludicrous. Leave now, before I show you why not even kings will force those daughters of the Hawke's Fortress."

"This takes too long," de Malfoi muttered to his compatriots. "Forward and engage her men while I secure Lady Eleanor."

Gisela watched as, simultaneously, the two brutes began to charge and her aunt sank to the ground. Distant though she was, she nevertheless saw Eleanor slash the dagger across the palms of her hands before placing them flat on the ground. The air seemed to change suddenly, as if a storm was blowing up, and the two men paused for a moment --

And then they were screaming in agony as they began to burn.

"Blood to blood, from the first to the last," Eleanor recited softly as she watched the two men fall from their mounts to writhe on the ground. "No enemy shall set foot, by means fair or foul, on the grounds of the Hawke's Fortress lest they feel the burning wrath of the Daughters of the Blood."

Gisela shuddered as the magic swept through her, urging her to spill her blood and strengthen the spell and drive the usurpers from their shores. No, she struggled against the magic, I can't, I don't know how ---

"Leave, de Malfoi," Eleanor whispered as Godwin levitated the two men onto the other side of the border.

"What did you do?" he hissed. "What dark magic … ? What is wrong with them?"

Brown curls whipped about her face as Eleanor spoke. "I said leave. Leave this place and never return, lest ye wish to be burnt to ashes."

"They shall recover."

De Malfoi looked startled as Godwin spoke, his soft voice full of determination and knowledge, though Gisela still marveled at the way certain people had of conveying a measure of their knowledge through their voice. "They may not be as they were, but recover they shall. Now, do as my lady bid and leave this place."

The wizards behind de Malfoi had been inching slowly toward the road since Eleanor first began to laugh and now many turned and rode hard for the road or simply Disapparated, leaving the Muggles amongst them screaming and riding away as if chased by the very devil. A few of those loyal to de Malfoi had remained, but at this they simply retrieved their injured companions and awaited orders. "Go," de Malfoi hissed at them.

They obeyed at once, popping out of existence with little ceremony and no fuss, and Antoine de Malfoi turned to give Eleanor one last look before following suit.

The moment all the would-be invaders had departed Gisela slid off her pillion and started toward her aunt, sinking to her knees beside the older woman just as Godwin knelt at Eleanor's other side. "I felt it," she told her aunt.

"I know."

"Why?"

Eleanor turned to face her niece and, for the first time, Gisela saw how pale the usually rosy woman had become. "You know the answer to that," she chided as Godwin helped her to stand. "You are of the Blood."

Gisela nodded slowly. "You could have killed them."

"Aye, that I could."

Gisela shivered as she looked out over the expanse of land and began to understand the terrible depths to which her aunt and those who had gone before must go to protect the Hawke's Fortress. Her teeth clanged together and her lips trembled with the certain knowledge that one day it would be she who turned men away from their borders. Why had she wanted this? How could she still want it?

"It is in your blood, little one," Godwin whispered.

"And at times, necessary," Eleanor reminded her.

Gisela nodded and allowed the veteran warrior-wizard boost her back up onto her horse and pillion as they set out for the Hall. However, she couldn't resist one last look over her shoulder at the desolate seeming spot before they topped the hill --

The air crackled in anticipation and she shivered.

One day, yes.

But not today.