THE SOCIETY understands that it remains the undeniable right of all men to live with the knowledge that they will always be free of oppression. No other race must ever be allowed to threaten or gain dominance over any man, regardless of where he lives in the world.

       THE SOCIETY cares not only for the survival of the human nations but that the security and superiority of mankind remains assured. To that end we have brought like-minded people together to become their protectors.

       THE SOCIETY will grow and wait under the guidance of the council of five. We must develop weapons and hold them ready for the time when we must return to the Seven Kingdoms in the defence of mankind.

       THE SOCIETY must always remain vigilant and willing to fight for our ideals.

      From the preamble of

       The Charter of THE SOCIETY

      CHAPTER 1

      The lack of rain over the last three years had left the land looking parched. The trees had shed their leaves in order to conserve what little water they could glean from the dry soil and the yellow-green grass crackled underfoot when walked upon. Much of the bird and animal life had moved on in order to find more productive pickings.

      In the midst of this dry country, where the Kings Road met the Northern Way, stands the small farming community of Thistledowne. This simple town existed as a resting place for weary travellers, the only reason the town had survived the drought for as long as it had. Thistledowne boasted a small inn, a blacksmith, a little church and, at its centre, the now grassless village green. The people of Thistledowne lived in basic wooden houses topped with thatched roofs, working small farms on the land around the town. The biggest event that had ever happened in Thistledowne occurred in the previous spring when King Leopold and his entourage passed through on their way to more important places. The town had suffered through drought before knowing that the rains would come eventually, but if they did not come soon the growing season would be missed again, and next winter would be difficult.

      One farm did not suffer as badly as the rest. This was the farm of Myrle Unwood, the local witch, and her only daughter, Camille. Myrle was gifted in the use of herbs, helping the villagers during times of ills or accidents, for which the townsfolk paid in food or services. Their farm was not like the others in the district. It did not have fields of corn or maize but instead remained in its natural state with small trees, shrubs and grasses. These provided Myrle with all that she needed to help and heal the townsfolk while a small vegetable garden behind the house provided for their own needs.

      Camille walked slowly among the trees, her eyes searching the ground for the faint hint of red in the dark shadows that would indicate her quarry. The lack of rain made it harder to find the herbs she sought but she knew that she would find what she was after. She passed an old oak with roots deep enough to seek out the moisture it needed. A flash of red in the shadows caught her attention. Ducking under the low branches and creeping into the darkness, she found her quarry - a patch of nightweed. The little flowers were beginning to open as the darkness approached. She sat, placing her basket on the ground beside her, and gently ran her hand over the little patch of green. The small round leaves and tiny red flowers growing along the delicate stems hid the true value of the plant. Camille reached into her basket and took out a small digging tool to gently break up the ground. Carefully lifting a clod of earth, she ran her fingers through the softened ground till she found the swollen nodules on the plant’s roots. Taking her time she removed the nodules and placed them in the basket before delicately replanting the nightweed. She knew that many people just tore the plant from the earth and took what they wanted but she felt that the little plant was giving her its bounty and in return she was responsible for taking care of it. Her mother would grind up the nodules to extract the moisture they contained and then leave both out in the sun. The fluid would evaporate away leaving white crystals which she used to remove the pain of injuries, while the dried fibre of the nodules could be burnt, giving those that breathed the smoke a feeling of peace and calm.

      When she had collected enough to satisfy her mother’s needs she caressed the plants again with her fingertips in thanks before rising and taking her basket back out into the fading light. She decided to take the time to walk once more amongst the trees and enjoy the coming of the evening. She had done much thinking since her fourteenth birthday two weeks ago. She sat on a rock, watching the coming of the night sky. Sunset was her favourite time of day, when all was serene and the night birds became active. The night owl led the evening choir with other birds providing harmonies. The creaking of the crickets and the haunting tones of a far-off wolf added to the chorus of sound, all backed by the soft percussion of the rustling leaves. A full moon rested on the distant hills before beginning its dance across the darkening sky as the audience of stars took their places for the performance.

      Nobody would ever describe her as pretty, least of all Camille herself, although the long black hair hanging down her back and tied with a simple leather thong was the one feature that provided any hint of beauty. Her face was marked with the scars of a long past pox, her nose was crooked and her chin too large. She wore plain black boots, good and solid for walking, and the dress her mother had given her for her birthday - plain black linen with long loose sleeves and a high square bodice. It hugged her small waist and fell to her ankles. There were no frills, no lace, nothing to decorate it except for the embroidered symbol stitched over her left breast in the shape of a gold shield over crossed gold swords. The shield was decorated with six coloured bars diagonally across the centre. Her mother had given her the dress along with the words that were etched into her thoughts. “This dress is you. When you understand the dress you will understand yourself and be the woman you were meant to be.” She had asked her mother to tell her more but Myrle had refused to discuss the dress or the words since they were given. This was a puzzle that Camille must solve for herself. She did not know where life would lead her, she just felt something deep within her that told her she needed