The tale of Castor and Malvich Anfenya
As Castor, son of Danrilla (lord of Tau) and his band were recovering from the events on the long plain, they did not travel far. The nights got longer as summer drew into late autumn, and the forest around the adventurers became more dead and more alive at the same time, as the creatures of the night came into their own. Every night, the people on watch would see strange shapes in the bushes, and hear a strange, low singing that set them on edge. There were whispers about spirits and fey, and eventually Castor grew tired of the fretting and worrying among his people, and strove to find the source of these whispers.
He strode to the edge of the clearing they'd been camped in, and Timwid Roughwyren and Grenag Snek went with him. The three peered into the darkness between the tall yew trees, and saw faint dancing lights in the distance. With Timwid leading the way they followed the singing to a grove surrounded by will-o-whisps. As the last eirie note faded away, the lights decended upon the three, drawing away their strength as they swung desperately at the faint spirits that avoided their blades with ease. Although Timwid fought valiantly, she eventually collapsed to the ground, as the lights began to retreat into the distance. Unable to help their fallen comrade, Grenag raced back towards the camp to seek help, and Castor became alone in the silent clearing.
The darkness was all-present and all-consuming. It folded around trees and swirled across boulders and streched trails between the tall, slim trees. Needles covered the floor, cushioning every footstep and returning no echo, so that it sounded like the darkness took Castor's voice when he spoke. "Spirits of the night, show yourselves to me! For I am Castor, son of Danrilla, slayer of the dragon Kandel and lord of the new lands."
The darkness swelled around him, and out of it stepped a tall fey lady, with ivy leaves weaved into her hair and eyes that glowed golden. Castor thought she was utterly beautiful, but before he could tell her so, she introduced herself. "I am Malvich Anfenya, and I am the high queen of these lands, and their mirror in the land of the fey. I contest your claim to any such land, but perhaps this can be rectified..." and she reached out a hand to him, bekoning him into the woods.
To say Castor went without a second thought would be doing him an injustice, he briefly glanced down to Timwid's faintly breathing body, and Malvich whispered "Everyone is safe." This was enough for Castor to let the curiosity and admiration he felt for the fey overcome him, and he followed her into the night. As they walked, Malvich Anfenya told him of the beauty of the feywild, and an elegant palace with blue spires that glimmers like the moon, where she could take him if he wished. Entranced by her beauty, he nodded at everything she said. He told her his stories of the dragon Kandel, of monsters and dungeons, and of the great castle of Tau. Far from his companions, Castor sat down with Malvich to watch the sun rise, and fell completely in love.
Back at the camp, Grenag rallied the adventurers, who spent hours searching the brambled woods until they eventually found a desperately lonely Timwid. She could remember nothing of the night, and was still very weak from the dancing lights. Together they spent the next day in search for Castor, but could find nothing of him or his tracks. Returning to their clearing at a loss, Castor's friends began to moun the loss of a leader they'd followed for so long.
Three days pass. The last day of Novsavan dawns cold and surprisingly clear.
Talrash woke to the same gentle singing, this time a short phrase in common:
"Golden eyes in the swirling dark, a face that never stays the same.
She who holds the faerie's blessing, the whole world shall know your name."
The whole camp stumbled into wakefulness, as Castor emerged from the woods, blinking in the light of the clearing. Cheers erupted, and the day was spent in merriment. Apart from Yalti Shrinto, the gnomish wizard, whom Talrash had told the strange words to. Yalti pored over the few books not yet stolen for firelighters, and she found nothing to relate it to. She hoped Castor had not made a promise he would regret.
Another tale of Castor, one of those genuinly belived to have first been about the adventurer, rather than attributed to him later. It is a natural sucessor to the tale of Castor and Gwenryth, some of the later stories of Castor's band.
