Ian Blackthorn sits in the Great Hall of Camelot and watches the faces of his family as they sit by the hearth. Skye has Conn and Calen on a bearskin rug again, laughing as Arista tickles her baby brothers. Across from him sits his uncle, Ashe, presently involved in a whispered conversation with Shane. Whatever they are talking about must be serious, muses Blackthorn. His son nearly always is laughing whenever Ashe speaks with him; tonight there isn't the slightest hint of a smile. The occasional glance Skye throws the pair gives Ian a hint. His wife has spoken earlier to him about some teasing Shane had been given by both elven and human children.

"A nithing, they called him! Neither human or elf, just a mixed blood!" Her eyes had flashed as she spoke, and Ian knew some thoughtless children would be given a piece of Skye's mind on the morrow. He feels no pity for them. He knows how it feels to be the outcast, and is troubled that Shane should feel that pain,too. His eyes drift about the Hall as he thinks, and the Yuletide decorations remind him that it is also MidWinter, an elven holiday. He looks back at his oldest son, then reaches into his cloak, opens a small bag and takes out a small square of cloth. It's older that Ian himself, yet it is not faded. In fact, it seems to shimmer in his hand as he turns it toward the firelight. A remnant of cloth....a remnant of an earlier time when he knew the pain Shane feels....

*********

"Come on!"

Herrel cursed in a hoarse whisper as he slipped once more on the crusted over snow. A hand grabbed his shoulder to steady him, and Ian whispered in his ear. "If you keep making noise, one of the guards will hear us! And we will miss them!" Herrel paled. If one of the men on the walls of ThornKeep did hear, an arrow between the shoulders was the most likely reason they would miss this sight his lord's son was so anxious to witness. He quickened his pace but kept his eyes on the surface of the snow, stepping in the footprints the half-elf boy was leaving.

"There's going to be trouble over this, I can feel it!"

The younger boy shot his only friend a withering look and then stooped to burrow one hand in the snow. A grunt and a nod was the only sign he had found one of those... ley lines was the phrase. He struck off to the north in almost a straight line, straying from it only to walk around rocks or walls, Herrel striving to keep up. Once they had to travel half a mile down the banks of a brook to find a bridge, but Ian had once again found the line when they reached the other side. Another half hour of walking through snow covered fields finally brought them to a hill and another ten minutes found them reaching its top. Herrel sat on a rock and looked at Ian.

"Alright, we are here. Now what?"

"We wait." The bastard heir to Thornkeep sat on another rock, his face barely visible in the full moon. He had the same stubborn expression he had worn so often of late when faced with the taunts of barracks brats and older squires. Herrel knew better than to argue. Instead he asked a question.

"Just what is it you want me to see?"

"The Progress." Ian leaned closer, and Herrel noticed he now had a small vial in his hands. "It's Mid-Winter, and the Elf Lords and others ride the Road against the Dark." He opened the vial and poured a thick liquid onto his fingertips. "Close your eyes. You need this ointment to see my mother's kin this eve, for they use strong spells to hide on the Solstice." He smeared some on Herrel's eyelids and under the eyes on the cheeks.

"Argggh! That STINGS!" The older boy jumped up, rubbing furiously at his eyes. He blinked as his sight returned. "I must be a fool to listen to you! You damn near blinded me!" And then he stopped, for two things grabbed his attention.

The first was the glow around Ian Blackthorn. The half elf was surrounded by a blue nimbus Herrel had not seen before.

The second thing was the sound of bells growing closer, and the sound of voices singing in a language he did not recognize.

Ian laughed, then pointed. "Here they come!"

Herrel turned and looked. Ian pointed back towards the side of the hill they had climbed. The music came from that direction, not from below, but level with the boys. Herrel rubbed at his eyes once more, blinked, and there they were, a line of riders outlined against the immense full moon. All rode white horses, except for a tall man wearing a horned mask who strode along beside the others. Or was it a mask? Herrel looked uneasily at the antlers; they seemed to be growing from the man's head!

For his part, Ian's eyes seemed fastened on trio of riders in the second ranking. Herrel looked at them and knew he was seeing a legend. A Triad... THE Triad. The twins, Yarrow and Ashe, and their sister, the Lady Rowan. Ian's mother was indeed every bit as beautiful as he had heard. All three were, and the human boy felt small and ugly in their presence. He stood frozen in place as the three rode closer and then stopped, Rowan dismounting to embrace her son. Ian endured the hug, then stepped back a pace and bowed stiffly. "Happy Solstice, mother." A fourth rider made an angry sound and Ian looked up towards the source. "And to you, brother." The other turned away, riding off a short distance with Yarrow. Rowan frowned.

"I'm sorry, Ianno... I'd hoped with time... "

"Perhaps another century or two?" Ian's voice was light, but the words cut his mother like a knife. She did not answer. Instead she silently handed her younger son a parcel and remounted her horse, her brothers once more taking their spots to either side of her, Ashe smiling at the two boys, Yarrow pointedly turning his head away.

"I know it's a human custom to give presents on their Yule feast, my son. I made this for you." Her voice was so low it was nearly lost in the midst of all the music. "I hope someday you and Sethan will be true brothers, for I love you both as my sons. Happy Solstice." And with that, the column of riders began to move again, the music grew louder, and elven (and other) voices were raised once more in a song to drive back the Dark.

One second they were there. The next they were gone... leaving Herrel gaping and Ian clutching his gift with angry tears held in check.

His voice was rough when he finally spoke. "Happy Mid-Winter, Mother"

Ian didn't open his gift until the next day. The trip back over snowcovered fields seemed to take forever, and when Herrel and he had reached Thornhaven they were too tired to do much else than sneak back to their beds, collapse, and hope they would be allowed to sleep in for the holiday. In that, at least, Ian had good fortune. It was close to midday before a page woke him and Ian retrieved the the package from under his bed.

It was a cloak, and one his mother had made herself. He'd spent enough time watching her work at her loom when he was younger to recognize the distinctive weave and especially the material, cloth of elven make that seemed to shimmer and catch the light from one angle or another. The weavers of the Green Silences had become famous, and Lady Rowan's skill was among the best. The cloak was a magnificent red and a fine gift by any standard. The fact his mother had made it made it that more precious to him and he wore it proudly that night to the celebrations.

It lasted three days. On the fourth, he returned from arms practice to find it slashed to pieces and scattered about his room. He did not fly into the rage those who had committed the deed expected. He picked up one piece, tucked it into a pouch on his belt, and then ordered the rest thrown away. Three weeks later his partner in arms drill suffered a broken collarbone. The next week, another's arm was broken. No one ever touched his property again.

He did not see his mother or his brother again for three years.

*********

Ian sits in the hall, turning the small remnant over and over in his hands. His mother's gift. So many years have passed now, over thirty by human reckoning. He looks across at Skye, and smiles to himself, for his gift to her is also a gift from his mother. Hidden away in his office is a package, holding a green cloak that had been Rowan's. A quick trip on the Road has been made to the small cottage in the Green Silences where his mother's loom once stood, and within to the chest sealed with wards of his own making so many years past. The cloak is still as new as the day it was finished, and it's shade a perfect match for Skye's emerald eyes and fiery hair. He smiles to himself, imagining Skye and Rowan meeting, sure they would have been close.

His eyes slowly drift closed as he watches his family. It's a few more minutes before they snap wide open and he looks over to where Shane and Ashe had been sitting. The chair is now empty, and even as he realizes this, the calm voice of Ashevathallion whispers into his mind.

:::Come outside, sister's son. Bring your soulbond with you.:::
:::They are coming:::

Ian walks swiftly towards the garden door; a glance at Skye shows her already walking towards it as well, their Soulbond having made her aware of Ashe's message. He waits for her outside, wraps his great cloak around her and together they set out for the pond, where Ashe had taken their oldest son. No words are spoken aloud as they move as quickly as frozen gravel paths will allow, but the tall half-elf and his love exchange Mindspeech, wondering what the summons means.

The night is clear and crisp, the well groomed gardens of Camelot outlined in pale silver by a huge full moon as they round the last bend of the path and come out by the small beach by the gazebo.A movement towards their left directs the pair's attention to the small boulder Skye sometimes laughingly calls "Ian's Rock". Ashe is standing atop it where Ian usually stands, the smaller form of Shane beside him. One hand rests on the boy's shoulder as he looks across the pond and speaks to his nephew.

"They are coming, Ian. It is time."

"Time for what, Uncle?" Blackthorn has no clue what this is all about. Neither, from her expression, does Skye. But Ashe does not answer, as from the far shore of the pond music begins to float across the water, bells and pipes and bodrhans in a proud defiant song against the dark. Realization dawns on Ian: another Winter Solstice, another Progress. And Ashe is the one to think to show it to the boy, not his own father who is busy dealing with the effects of Lord Blackhawke's sudden departure. He sees Skye's eyes glow in wonder as the first riders come out the the woods and begin riding across the pond, atop the water, as if they were crossing a strip of solid ground. There is, of course, a leyline running beneath the pond, one which Ian himself has called upon before to form a passage the road. Skye can see the Progress approach without any preparation because she and Ian share their Soulbond. He slips an arm about her waist and watches the column come to a halt as they realize Ashe and the boy are blocking the way. The music ends in mid-note as well.

"Who dares to block the sealing of the Ways of Light against the Dark on this Solstice?" The words come from Arianrhod, for the Lady chooses to ride tonight in this countenance. Ian and Skye look at each other, for the words have the lilt and phrasing of ritual. Ashe's response confirms it. "I, Ashevathallion of the House of the Sliver Rose dare, in order to make claim before those here."

"Say on and lay thy claim before all here assembled."

Nodding, Ashe draws Shane closer to him, enfolding him with one half of his cloak. "I do now what should have not ever been needed. I claim as kith and kin this boy, Shanevethallion, and with him his brothers Calenvethallion and Conannonvethallion, and the sisters Kara and Dara. I claim them all as blood of my blood, and also lay claim to the girl Arista, his human sister. I do this by right of rank and blood in my House!" He stands proudly, daring any to deny his right to do this, and a sudden movement in the rear of the Procession might be his anwer. Two riders step forth, and a sharp hiss of surprise from Ian draws Skye's eyes to them, and then a small gasp, for their faces mirror Ashe's. One is the Ashe that might have been had not a blade marred his features: Yarrowvathallion, his twin. The other is Ashe as he may someday have been, a face just starting to show signs of age, and eyes older than the face: their father, Ian's grandfather, Evaynanvathallion. Yarrow is flushed with rage, but the older elf simply stares at his great grandson while a murmur runs through the Procession. Then, with a smile so slight it might have only been an illusion, he reaches out to touch Shane on the forehead.

"With these words and touch I seal thee to my House, blood of my blood, kith and kin. Be welcome, Shanevethallion to the House of the Silver Rose." And with that he turns and walks past the furious Yarrow to reclaim his mount. One after another, other riders step forth to nod or bow in acknowledgement of the boy until only a few such as Yarrow remain. Then the music starts again, the Goddess raises her hand, and the Progress resumes, moving past the point where the astonished Skye and silent Ian stand. Some nod..a few actually smile at the pair. When his grandfather draws near, Ian steps out one pace and bows in the fashion of the Sithryn, but the older elf says not a word. He almost rides past. And then, he turns, looks back, nods to Blackthorn slowly, and rides on.

Ashe and Shane make their way down off the rock to the others as the Progress disappears into the dark. Skye looks at Ian.

"Could someone tell me what just happened here?"

Ian Blackthorn gives Ashe a grateful look. "Ashe laid claim to Shane as kin. And by acknowledging the ties of blood, both he and my grandfather acknowledged me. I am no longer clanless in Sithryn eyes, although Corwin and Amber will always be the clan of my heart. Thank you, my uncle" He bows deeply to Ashe, but then is drawn into a hug and soon all four are joined.

"I think Rowan would expect no less of me. I did it for your mother as well as you." Ashe gave them all another hug. "Merry Solstice, my family."

As they turned and walk back up the path to the firehall, Ian thought he saw someone standing beneath the stars clad in a red cloak that glitters with the stars. Then it was gone.

Just a trick of the light, he decided, as he joined the others.

Or was it?

12/99