I watched him as he came slowly, but steadily, towards the doorway where I waited. He did not limp, but the stiff manner of his carriage spoke clearly of hurts that burdened him. I half turned towards the nearest of those who attended me to find that she was already hurrying towards the inner room where the clean linen was kept, calling as she went for water to be brought.

I turned towards him again, watching his advance, seeing the louring skies now release their water in a vague wall behind him as a chill wind arose. A wind that fragmented the falling rain into spray and mist, obscuring the lake and hurrying people that were either clustered around something in the barge or, such was their haste, manhandling a cart into position whilst a horse was caught.

So he came as the day became dark well before dusk, the heavens wept and the land hid itself amidst the tears. He was a man that I knew, perhaps loved in the way that was mine. A strong man, a warrior, councilor and a friend. But now he was just a man with a sword carrying a second sword, so a coldness stole over me as he came to my door.

I withdrew a little to allow him entrance. He stood there with his shoulders brushing the jambs on either side.

"My Lady..." He began to bow but stiffened as the pain came swiftly to remind him.

"He has gone?" I asked.

"Not yet, but it will be soon. A head wound and the helmet is stoven in. We cannot take it off without killing him. He is already blind, my Lady."

He moved forward into the light of the lamps, the second sword now held across his body, the blade resting in his gauntleted hands. He would not touch the hilt  - the weapon was not his, nor very shortly would it belong to anyone else, excepting myself as guardian of the principle it represented.

I looked at him closely. Resolution still burned in his eyes but it was for this last task and I saw that he was close to exhaustion. Two thirds of his body was covered in half congealed blood, now diluted by the rain and beginning to drip onto the flagstone floor.

The sword he held before him was equally filthy, if not more so, its natural splendour dimmed by the work done. I saw bone fragments that force had rammed into the gore that covered the hand guard. It was as I would have expected. This sword would not come back in these hands unless there had been the most bitter of fighting. Perhaps, I thought, it was enough that his hands were still there to do this task of returning it to me.

"Your wounds?"

He looked down at himself, just bending his head, the torso still held rigid.

"This blood belonged to others. For myself - I was in the way of a return swing of an axe and I think a few ribs are broken. I was kicked in the shoulder blade by a speared horse as well. The rest is just cuts and bruises."

I looked at the deep dent in the reinforced brow of his helmet which had taken a blow from a sharp edge and had driven into him. Blood from the wound that had been made, now dried, had run down into his left eye. This must have increased his hazard for he was right handed and I noted the fresh blood oozing from the chopped and mangled leather on his left arm - above where his shield would have reached.

He was beginning to shake now but he stiffened and straightened himself, facing me squarely.

"My Lady..." He offered the sword, supporting it on outspread hands, and this time he did bow, deeply, as I knew that he would. I took the sword back into my charge and care, murmuring the benediction of peace as I did so.

Breath hissed through his clenched teeth as he attempted to straighten again and he swayed, losing control - but my maidens were there, supporting him, drawing him away to a bed; taking his own sword and harness from him, their fingers slipping on the bloody attachment thongs and buckles of his armour as they set about exposing his hurts.

I put away the sword he had returned to me.

He was drifting back into consciousness as I waited beside him. He began to stir, then struggle. Despite the herb simples I had administered, the pain again took him, adding to the mental anguish I could only imagine as he relived the noise and effort beyond effort. The cursing and screaming and clamour and the blood and the death of that dark battle, which now would have been our last.

I bathed his brow and spoke his name. His eyes opened, flickering from side to side in short scans - the manner of a man in close combat appraising movement - seeking targets and avoiding danger. His eyes steadied and gazed into my own as present reality came back to him.

"How is he? Is he...?"

"He has gone," I replied. "He never regained consciousness."

Desolation and grief swept across his strong face. Tears came to his eyes. He had lost a King but he had also lost his closest friend. A friendship founded in childhood, from which they together, with the weird guidance of an ancient Enchanter, had between them forged and held a peace we had for so many years.

"What is to become of us, my Lady?"

I looked back into his eyes, giving him the strength and calm that he needed so badly at this time. I thought of the dual invaders that we faced, both of them bearing swords of a kind.

The priests of one invasion were already whispering their politics, beginning to rule kings, and their sword was a cross buried deep in the heart of the land, while their preaching of damnation took solace from simple folk and put fear into their hearts.

He who had just fallen had worn their symbols but he had still fallen and fallen in civil war as the people became confused and knew not where to turn.

So the second invader had passage to come. One which had been held back these many years and would be sharpening real swords once more. We would fall between the two of them, that was now clear.

I held his hand, callused and hardened from the calling and duties of his trade. I told him there was work for him that only he could do. I bathed his brow until he fell back into sleep and rested.

Then I went to be by myself and think. I knew that this was now not a time for swords but a time for planning. The present was passing, just as a day will always end. But there would be a dawning again. The moon would pass through many of her eighteen year cycles in the years to come, but in the fullness of time the land and its people would be united once more

I set my mind to my task, taking a waxed tablet and beginning to list the basics that would lead to and steer a future which I knew that I could not imagine, but a future in which I had absolute faith.

- Helix