Eirwen’s protest.

Eirwen had just finished eating the delicious rabbit and its bones littered the sandy floor of this cave, making her think of Bledri again and missing his silent, comforting presence. She used a little fingernail to dislodge a piece of meat from between two teeth, before taking a small clay bottle with a cork stopper from a saddlebag. She pulled the cork with her teeth and took a swig of the wirod-mywyd and grimaced as the fiery, honeyed liquor burned her throat. Taking another big swig of this ‘spirit of life’ she swallowed this one more easily, before she re-stoppered the bottle and returned it to its satchel. Eirwen froze then as she heard Tringad whinny, followed by the unmistakeable sounds of breaking branches outside, as something big pushed hard through the undergrowth. It couldn’t be her horse or any other familiar creature as animals didn’t crash through bushes, unless it was a lynx or a bear. Her pulse quickened at this thought, but these dangerous predators hadn’t been seen in these lowlands for decades.

Eirwen’s nerves jangled and her heart began to thump in her chest then, at the thought of confronting a fully-grown she-bear looking for a new home perhaps for her soon to be born cubs. Her breathing became shallow as she tried to place the noise, which had abruptly stopped and Tringad had become silent again, which was even more worrying and confusing, as he would be screaming if a bear or a mountain-cat had entered his circle. Another sound came from outside the cave but much closer this time and the blessed juice of action coursed through her veins with a surge but Eirwen watched in horror, as a big strange man pushed his way through the dense bushes at the cave’s entrance. Two more big and dangerous looking men followed him in, all grinning broadly as they took-in the scene before them in a flash. Eirwen was confronted by three scruffy and filthy looking rogues, who had suddenly trapped her in this cave.  

Her blood turned to ice-water as the situation crashed into her senses, her bowels turning to hot liquid. The consequences of her rash actions presented themselves now, in the form of three atavistic looking brigands, who plainly couldn’t believe their good fortune. ‘Of all the times to be without my loyal and ferocious Bledri and this happens!’ She thought forlornly, her heart sinking. Eirwen missed his guardianship in that horrifying blink of time, more than she had ever done, as he could have made all the difference here at this fateful moment. On his own Bledri could have driven these ruffians from this cave, and with a few well-placed arrows swiftly following she could have held her cave indefinitely, but she was alone. Her eyes flashed to her silver-tipped bow then and the fawn deerskin quiver of arrows beside it, but the first man-in followed her glance and laughed.

“I wish you would try missy, I really do!” This hulking stranger slobbered in a thick western brogue through a tangled, unkempt and greasy beard. Three teeth were alone in his ugly head, two up and one down and these were lopsided brown stumps, through which saliva dribbled over the wide expanse of his wet, pink gums, making Eirwen feel like vomiting with fear and loathing. She moved backwards slowly, still crouching as the man picked up her bags, upturning each one so all her belongings fell to the floor.

“Leave my things alone, you ugly pig!” She screamed at him and all three began laughing as they moved into the cave and began rummaging through her personal stuff, blocking any flight to exit. Eirwen’s simmering anger broke at this rough treatment of her kit and she stepped up to the first man boldly. “I said leave my possessions alone! Do you know who I..!” The heavy backhand slap caught her completely off-guard, to her own amazement and she sprawled backwards to the floor, her face burning, and the brute’s cohorts laughed even more.
“Let’s cnuch her and then kill her, slowly!” The second man drawled like a village idiot, his vacuous face cruel without a shred of intelligence and Eirwen quailed, as it became clear what was about to happen to her.

Her legs began to tremble as the men began to move ominously toward her, the half-wit unbuckling the leather belt that constrained his huge beer-belly in preparation. Something happened then inside her, and it was like the breaking of a twig.  One moment Eirwen was trembling like a new-born lamb, fighting a ballooning panic and waves of mortal terror and the next she was suddenly cold and focused, with no trembling signs of her rising fear. Her anger had suddenly flared like lightning in a building storm, bright and fierce and she surreptitiously drew her dagger from behind her back and sprang at the man, like a highland lioness.

Eirwen ducked under the unwieldy right fist he threw at her head, the left clutching his unfastened bracs and exactly as she’d been trained to do, she came-up fast from the crouch and stabbed upwards into his chest, feeling the blade slide fortuitously between two ribs. Knowing she’d have to be as quick as a stoat, she whipped the knife away as the man screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his wound and trying to staunch the bleeding. Eirwen turned toward the second man to repeat the lightning attack and ‘Bang!’ She was punched in the face and her dagger flew from numb fingers.

Falling stunned to the floor with blood pouring from her nose and a rushing sound roaring in her ears, she struggled to remain conscious on the dirt of this cave floor. Eirwen watched through her swimming vision, as the two men tried to help their stricken friend, but blood was now pouring from his mouth as well as the chest wound, which sucked with every agonised breath. The man gave a great convulsion then and died, spewing a huge gout of thick blood which fountained from his gaping mouth.

“Tha’s moi brudder!” The third and smaller man wailed. “You kill’t him, you cnuching bitch!” He screamed, picking up her bloodied dagger and advancing on her, clearly incensed and bent on murder. The other, biggest man held him back however, enveloping him in two huge arms and lifting him off the floor.

“Calm down Beagan!” He yelled in his ear, holding him tight in the enormous bear-hug. “When did you ever cnuch such a beautiful girl eh?” He asked the wriggling man. “Let us do what we set out to do and rape the bitch first, then we’ll kill her nice and easy over this fire of hers.” He said maliciously, and the younger man and brother of the deceased relaxed and began to nod. He was put down and he stayed there, but his eyes were locked onto Eirwen’s with the most murderous and vengeful look twisting his pinched face, which turned her bowels to a loose, liquid heat.

“Ay, you better have your go first Dev, as there won’t be much left of the bitch to roast by the time I’m through with her!” He snarled the oath, so that his words carried their full meaning and his blazing eyes didn’t leave Eirwen’s for a moment, causing the trembling in her legs to start again. Suddenly the big man moved deceptively quickly and leaned down to grab her by the hair, forcing her to stand and then he punched her again on the side of her jaw and Eirwen didn’t feel herself fall or thud to the hard floor this time, she just floated away in a dazzling nova of light.

She almost passed clean out this time but although stunned, the explosion of light faded quickly and part of her still clung to consciousness. Still attentive to what was going on and aware of the hard earth beneath her once more, Eirwen could feel him tugging at her and at her clothes. Strangely she was passed caring, as little dancing lights bounced around her vision and as these bright lights finally winked out one-by-one, she felt as though she was falling backwards into a deep black chasm. Eirwen felt a crushing weight on her abdomen then, drawing her back a little from the deep as the fat one sat astride her, pinning her arms down and laughing at her.

“You’re going to love what I’ve got here for you missy.” He breathed and Eirwen could smell her whisky on his foul breath and discern the lust that gravelled his voice and it brought her back, firing her temper once more. She felt a little strength flow back into her as her head cleared and she began to struggle again, fighting back against this crushing entrapment. Her vision was improving somewhat, and her head was still woolly, but it was clearing, oh so slowly.  Iron-hard hands then crushed her breasts, making her cry-out with the savage pain and her anger fired again as the man tore at her clothing. Eirwen fought and struggled against his rough and hairy hands but they were huge, gnarled and his strength was overpowering. His weight alone was something she could never hope to counter, but Eirwen wasn’t going to surrender to this beast as long as she had one breath left in her body. Loathing and disgust welled-up inside her then, goading her anger and appalling her in equal measure, as her attacker had spat a great mouthful of hot, sweaty saliva into her face and then he fell on her.

Eirwen was shocked and sickened by this face-full of hot slobber which had blinded her and the colossal dead-weight of this man which continued to crush the wind out of her. Even as the bile rose up to burn her throat, she valiantly struggled against him, bucking and shoving at his immovable bulk and spitting the filth from her mouth. She wrestled with him for long moments before realising with a sudden cold shock, that he really was dead.

It wasn’t spittle that wet her face but the man’s hot blood and the weight of him vanished as suddenly as it had dropped on her, as the bleeding corpse was yanked off her and discarded like a broken doll.  It was thrown into a corner with ease by the towering figure of Nêr Olwydd Hîr; the ghost-warrior. The relief at seeing his craggy war-face and his blue-cat tattoo through the blood and tears was immense and overwhelming, making her feel far more light-headed than the mortal danger ever had. The familiar giant smiled down at her, terrifying and wonderful all at once and offering her his enormous hand. Eirwen took it in stunned amazement and the huge ghost-warrior restored her to her feet, whereupon she rushed into his arms.

“Oh my Gods Olwydd, I have never been so pleased to see anyone in all my life!” She declared, sobbing through her tears and clinging to him. Olwydd was both surprised and pleased at this demonstration, his deep paternal feelings for his revered and beloved Princess swelling along with his pride as she shuddered in his embrace.

“Think nothing of it your Royal Highness.” Olwydd demurred, putting both muscular arms around her. “I will always be your protector and I am sworn by blood-oath to do so as long as I am able, my brave, honourable Princess.” He said gruffly, lifting her face and wiping away the blood. Inspecting the damage to her nose and satisfied she was in no mortal danger, he glanced down to the dead brigand at his feet. Looking back at her with that wry and familiar smile, he inclined his head. “Did you kill that one?” He asked her.

Eirwen nodded, her eyes full of tears and her nose and face still smeared with her attacker’s and her own blood, but her beautiful face hardened and her eyes blazed.

“I did!” She admitted with a proud sniff, seeing the other’s throat had been cut and he had joined his brother in the Underworld. “Bastard thought raping me would come easy!” She spat on the man at her feet, with his glazed eyes and long, blood-clotted beard and Olwydd began to laugh.

A few minutes later, Olwydd released a bird of message from a reed cage on his horse and then returned to the cave to help his Princess repack and assemble her luggage, glad her beloved horse was unharmed. A little after noon, they were both headed back to the Caer at an easy walking pace for the horses and they began to talk to each other, as friends.

“Why?” Was Olwydd’s first question, and so Eirwen opened up to the fearsome warrior, telling him all about Cadwy and her feelings, hopes and dreams. She told him of her crushing news, of her arranged marriage to Prince Wrad and all her fears. As Bel turned to blood in the west, they finally approached the flat plain of familiar land, that lay in a fine sweeping bend of the Afon Carryn and the distant, misty low hill of CaerCamelon rising in the distance. Time had flown, and they had become firm friends, but she was at once nervous again now, knowing what she was about to face. Strangely now, Olwydd’s presence seemed to bolster her confidence as now she had unburdened herself to him, the prospect of her father’s wrath and all his impending questions and expected anger didn’t seem quite so bad. Olwydd had promised her that he would take a message to Cadwy and explain her situation to him personally, with her impassioned plea to make-sure he understood that she had been forced into the situation she was now struggling to come to terms with.

With the ghost-warrior’s assurances giving her some grain of comfort, Eirwen steeled herself to face the music as riders approached to meet them in the dusk.

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Sword fighting Tutorial.

The art of sword fighting.

Be aware of your melee scenario.

Situational awareness is key to winning the fight. Your mind needs to not only be aware that you need to prepare to fight, but also to quickly take in your surroundings and calculate how to turn the environment to your advantage. If you are taken by surprise, you may be beaten before you had a chance to draw your sword.

·         Trust your gut feelings. Having a feeling that something isn’t quite right? That you are being watched? It is just too quiet, or something is out of place, or you hear something but not sure what? Honor your intuition; it may well save your life.

·         Be aware of threats. If you are not aware of attackers, you are already at a disadvantage. This includes being observant of odd or suspicious behavior, awareness of your surroundings, and often just your "gut feeling".

·         Be aware of your fighting situation. A fight by two thugs in a darkened alley is different from a tournament fight. A tournament fight is controlled and done with a code of honor. If you are attacked "on the street" (for some reason) you are likely fighting for your life and should not hold back on "dishonorable" tactics such as kicking, throwing sand in an opponent's eyes, or trickery.

 Assess your melee environment.

Every sword fight takes place somewhere. Awareness of where you are can help access possible disadvantages and be able to turn the physical environment to your advantage. If you can maneuver yourself so that you can attack and/or protect yourself more effectively--prepare an ambush, force your opponent against a dead end, hide behind a boulder--you are more likely to win. Some sample environmental elements to consider:

·         Bright sunlight can blind, if it is at the right angle and the right blindness. Forcing your opponent to have the sun in his or her eyes may make it much harder to see you.

·         Dark environments can conceal, either you or your opponent.

·         Forests have a host of opportunities for concealment. Trees makes it difficult or impossible to execute massed defenses such as "shield walls" or offenses like typical battlefield formations.

·         Natural barriers such as cliffs, ocean, or walls cut off mobility and escape routes.

·         Swordfighters (especially in armor) do not typically do well in mud, marshy areas, ice, or deep, soft snow.

·         Battlefields require acting as part of a team, even more than an as individual. You will depend on the people around you for survival and to act rashly alone, means likely death for you and your comrades.

·         Urban environments typically encompass enclosed spaces, such as rooms or streets.

 Draw your sword before you engage.

A trained sword swing takes a fraction of a second, so drawing your sword can take precious time. Also, your sword is of minimal value hanging in its sheath.

·         On the other hand, if your sword and scabbard are suitable for a quick draw, and you practice, this can be a great surprise attack. It can also intimidate by showing you are a highly trained fighter.

·         This is especially applicable to the Japanese sword which has styles for attacking people while drawing the blade called Iaido and Batto-jutsu.

 Relax!

The natural reaction to sword combat is panic. However, if you are tight, in a frazzled state of mind you cannot act with speed, control, or mental clarity. This can be fatal. With practice, you will learn to achieve a state of calm concentration in the midst of danger. Your mind will learn to focus on what is. An empty mind and the sure knowledge that you don’t have to be the one to lose, sustains most swordsmen.

 Balance is key! Keep your body balanced so you can strike or parry without being hit.

• Always have your feet shoulder wide and when you move, move so your legs spread apart. Never have your feet close to each other. 
• Hold your sword so you can handle it with ease. 
• Watch your opponent's movements and learn when he moves in to attack and launch a preemptive strike (counter). 
• Be quick. 
• When you parry you keep the blade close to you, so you don't stretch out to block and always try to counter your opponents attack. 
• Your footing and proper foot placement is key for balance. 
• The more of the sole of your foot touches the ground the more grounded you are giving you greater strength in your attacks. 
• To keep your balance, try to slide your feet rather than lift them up and stepping. 
• Leaning forward lifting up your heel also reduces your grounding so be cautious with how your feet are placed and used during each strike because you give great opportunity for your opponent to knock you over. 
• Keep your posture straight and your chest and torso forward which will keep you from losing your balance during your swings and allows you to avoid with a simple twist any blows with ease rather than having your torso turned sideways locking yourself to only be able to evade an attack in only one direction.

Engage with care.

If you charge in recklessly, especially against a trained fighter, he may just wait and let you impale yourself on his sword. By engaging carefully, you are able to maintain control and focus at all times. This also will allow your best defense which most of the time is just sidestepping (or side sliding) your opponents attack potentially saving your life and allowing the opening for your winning blow. Dodging works extremely well in an open space or if you are quick, an indoor room.

Have a strong defense.

Missing just one block or parry can be fatal, so protect yourself well. Maintain your sword in a position that runs from the bottom of your torso to the top of your head. This is a middle position, suitable for any skill level, that will enable you to respond to an attack with reasonable speed, and also gives you many angles for your own strikes.

Keep your weapon ready.

Generally, your sword should be extended a comfortable distance away from your body, and toward your opponent's throat, or perhaps his eye. This is referred to as putting him "on point". It serves as a ward against an opponent (who must, after all, get through your sword first), and can be quite intimidating, especially to an inexperienced fighter.

Keep your elbows bent, and close to your body.

An inexperienced fighter tends to stretch out his arms in order to keep his opponent further off, but this will hurt your ability to thrust and parry quickly. Extend your sword towards your opponent, not your arms.

Make the first strike count.

Although a skilled fighter can keep up combat for extended periods, a real sword fight is quite often determined by the first blow--often decided in less than 30 seconds. Be sure of your attack, for it is likely that if you miss with your first strike, your opponent will take advantage, and end the fight himself with a fatal blow.

Find and maintain a distance based on a balance of your reach and your opponent.

One's "reach" is the weapon plus the length of the sword swing. A long arm with a short sword could equal the reach of a shorter arm and a long sword. What is comfortable will be based on a number of factors: your height, sword length, sword style, and fighting style all affect your proper distance.

·         If you have a shorter "reach", generally get in close and stay within his or her guard. Do not let him or her push you away. An opponent with longer reach will not be as easily able to get a good swing in, and you can usually swing faster than a person with a longer "reach".

·         If you are using a longer sword, keep your distance. A longer sword makes it possible to keep the opponent farther away and thus less likely to make contact.

·         If about the same, generally stay about where it would only take one large step forward to attack.

Remain calm and confident.

Poise can decide a fight as surely as the sword and is an effective stratagem. If you are nervous or frightened, your opponent may try to take advantage of your lack of confidence and attempt to goad you into making a fatal mistake. Cool warriors tend to make others wary, unsettled, and ideally fearful.

·         You can still stay calm but prefer to show aggressiveness and intimidate your opponent instead, (Bleddyn) or even pretend to be scared, or even make him or her laugh in the hope of lulling your enemy into making a fatal error. (Cadwy)

·         Each strength has a weakness. For example, a tall fighter may have longer reach--but it may take longer to throw a shot, and height is a disadvantage in an area with a low ceiling height.

·         Each weakness may have a strength. An inexperienced fighter is also one that is difficult to predict.

Once the fight begins, find the flow of battle and attempt to control it.

This is just a fancy way of summing everything else in this article up in one sentence but it’s very important in its own right too. If you succeed in finding the flow and controlling it, you have a very good chance of almost directly influencing the entire fight through your actions. It is a difficult concept to grasp but try the next time you spar during practice.

·         Find the patterns and flow from one move to the next and try to control your opponent. Generally, fighters fall into strikes, defenses, and tactics that are most familiar and comfortable to them. It takes many years and lots of practice to accomplish this but if you do this then the battle is already half yours.

Drop the dramatics.

Most sword fights are won with simple, well timed and well-placed blows and parries. Flashy elaborate moves are generally best left to martial arts movies. There are practical purposes to certain showy maneuvers in the right situation in the right opportunity. However, unless you are an expert you are more likely to leave yourself open for an embarrassing defeat. For instance, do not spin in a circle. It may look cinema-ready but leaves your hard-to-defend back open to blows.

·         One possible useful purpose: intimidation. Showing a less experienced fighter that you are able to easily pull off fancy maneuvers can crack the other person's confidence. Making the opponent question his or her abilities against you is a huge psychological win.

·         Another good tactic: distraction. If your opponent is busy watching you dance around, that might be the time you need to find an opening in the defense.

Tips

• Accuracy is more vital than power.
• Remember that every part of your sword is a weapon, including the point, each edge, the handguard, and the pommel. Along with this your body is a weapon and anything around you can be a weapon. There is no reason a sword fight should be restricted to your blade. Use whatever you can to win.
• If possible, know beforehand the weapon your opponent is using. If going against an opponent with a smaller faster sword, do not let its appearance fool you. A weapon like that probably has a moderate amount of bend and specializes in squeezing in between openings. On the other hand, if your opponent is using a large heavy sword, he or she is probably planning to end the fight with just one or two heavy strikes. Stay as far away from your opponent as possible and wait for him or her to tire.
• Be aware of the terrain around you and use it to your advantage. Sending an opponent tumbling backwards over an obstacle behind him/her will surely help. Also, placing your back to the sun can cause your enemy to be momentarily blinded, thus opening him/her up to a fatal strike.
• Smart sword fighters don't jump into the air. It may sound cool, but it would get the fighter killed. The fighter can't change directions mid-air and doesn't have any way to maintain their balance. A sword fighter's feet belong on the ground in a sword fight.
• All parts of the sword are a weapon, including the hilt; so are insults or a face full of sand. Especially with a larger opponent, legs are great targets. A fighter can win simply by letting an opponent bleed out after a leg slash. Eye-witness accounts indicate this was a frequently used technique.
• A sword fighter should be closely aware of their opponent. An opponent's hands and shoulders often tense momentarily when they are about to strike, for instance. They may glance the direction their going to move. A fighter needs to also be aware of their surroundings. Sending an opponent backwards over an obstacle is always a good thing.
• Take good care of your equipment. Well-maintained weapons and armor are far less likely to let you down when it matters most.
• If at all possible, avoid fighting more than one person. If you must fight many opponents, try to maneuver them so that they interfere with each other, and thus enable you to deal with each one individually.
• Never dodge like a maniac. Look to where your opponent is aiming and move as little as possible. If he lunges and you sidestep you will most likely have a clear shot. Take it and don't be afraid to carry an off-hand sword stroke. It’s not cheating, just practical.
• Positioning of the body is important. Keep your body perpendicular and the shoulder of your sword arm pointed toward your opponent (like fencers do). This makes your torso a smaller target and will protect many of your vital organs.
• Training is vital. If you practice very hard, perhaps 10% of what you know will be available to you during combat. You must be able to act instinctively, without thought. Basic techniques lend themselves well to this, which is why they are called 'basics'. Be sure to train yourself constantly in these essentials, for much of the time, they will be the only things you have to fall back on. It generally takes about two months to learn a technique fully, but only one month to lose it.
• Conserve your energy. It is well-known among veterans that a fight to the death takes an incredible amount of effort, so don't waste your time with fancy maneuvers or unnecessary motion. Your survival may depend on your reserves of energy.
• Use weapons and techniques you are familiar with, and that cater to your particular strengths. Trying something new during combat is a good way to get killed.
• Where you are standing isn't worth dying for. If you always move in a linear fashion, or just stand still, you limit yourself, and a cunning enemy can take advantage of this. Be prepared to utilize the terrain fully, and move in whatever fashion the situation calls for.
• Examination of eyewitness accounts show that many sword duels were won by gashing the opponent's arms or thighs, then waiting until blood loss made them faint, at which point they were at their assailant's mercy. Hands, feet, arms and legs are legitimate and useful targets, and will often be easier to strike than the torso or head.
• Know your sword and sword style, and what both are designed for and capable of. A sword is a tool and is designed to do a certain task. They are not magical and will not exceed their design. Plan ahead based on this knowledge. Is your sword light and nimble, designed for stabbing? Or a heavy one capable of a single body-severing, but potentially slower stroke? Or a razor blade made to cut? Each has weaknesses and strengths, as do the styles accompanying them. Knowing the limits and abilities of yours and your enemy's sword and style is the key to winning.
• Friends can be a big help, or a great hindrance. If you can, train with others, so that you can function together as a group. Also, try to pick allies, weapons, and techniques that complement each other, such as using a polearm from behind a couple of friends using shields and swords.
• A common mistake is presenting one's legs as an easy target - such an opportunity should never be missed. If one of the opponents goes down, then the fight is usually over.
• Watch your opponent carefully. Notice where he/she is looking - this may be the area where he's/she's preparing to strike. When your opponent is about to attack, his/her fists and shoulders may tense for a second.
• In defense, when it's enough to only move your wrist, move just the wrist. When the wrist is not enough, move the elbow. When the elbow is not enough, move the shoulder. When none of this is enough, retreat.
• Maintain your balance. Keep your weight evenly balanced on both your feet; only ever have one foot not on the ground at a time. Never cross your feet as this will throw you off balance; only the slightest bit of force can knock you over. There is a reason that almost all martial arts stress balance (except for one or two weird ones where you're constantly falling and recovering) - it gives you more options to move.
• Combination strikes are more effective than single blows. In an extended battle, a good fighter will attack with more than one attack. This gives a much better chance of success than just one strike. Keeping an opponent under pressure increases the possibility of a mistake on his/her part.
• When facing any opponent, even if he/she is a weaker fighter, then try to get any edge on him/her you can. This includes a mental edge as well. Using sand in the eyes or insults or anything else that will make him/her weaker. Don't get cocky because he/she is weaker; he/she can still harm or kill you. Accumulating many of these small advantages is a mark of a good swordsmen. Also, be aware that your opponent will attempt the same. Rather than getting flustered by this, think of how to counter and remove his advantages and try to prevent him from the onset of even trying.
• Remember if you're pointing your sword while facing them be ready to tilt your sword and block or dodge or it could leave a weakness.
• Practice exactly as you would fight, because you will fight the way you were trained. If you impose a limitation that wouldn't normally exist in combat, you risk developing a bad habit that could ultimately prove fatal.
• Most fighters tend to separate defense from attack, which limits their technique severely. The best warriors combine the two, so that a block or parry turns into a natural counterstrike. Their fighting becomes a smooth, flowing progression of movement.
• Always remember that any of these tricks can be used against you.
• Let your opponent do all the jumping and running around; if you do you will wear out fast which is extremely fatal.
• Know the length of your sword. If both fighters are correctly judging length, you'll only ever have the opportunity to hit with the top six inches or so. Keep your eye on your sword and that of your opponent at all times. However, focusing just on the opponent's sword is not advisable, since you can be misled. A skilled fighter should be able to judge the direction of the opponent's next blow by examining his/her posture.
• If you need practice with sword fighting or are new at it, it helps if you practice with sticks, wooden swords, or bunted metal ones. You can also have friendly competitions with your friends for practice.
• If possible, wear armor. Anything that extends your life past the first cut is a good investment. Be sure that it is well-fitting and durable. Be aware that while light armor gives you more freedom to maneuver and is easier to fight in, heavier armor can absorb more punishment. Be aware that heavy armor such as plate steel changes everything: the way you move, see, and even how you should hold your weapon.
• When parrying use the flat of the blade as not to damage the blade.
• Don't stare. It may sound counter intuitive but looking too intensely can offer a "tell" to your opponent so they can predict what you are doing more easily. It may also cause you to hyper focus and miss peripheral movements.
• Usually your sword is thin and light. You should only need one hand on it unless it is designed for two.
• Never be intimidated by your opponents constant forward steps and swings. I call this the "death step" when an opponent has more force and an intimidatingly fast swing and are charging forward forcing you to step backwards. Always remember, it doesn't matter how hard they can swing, you can always block and defend. Even if their weapon is larger or stronger (like some giant axe) you can use this and step forward into them and deliver a fatal attack.
• In fencing (fighting with a sword designed to thrust, as opposed to cut), always keep your sword point directly at your opponent; if you parry (block) exactly to the end of the side of their body, they will not be able to hit you. Overextending yourself (parrying past that point) will leave you vulnerable.
• If your sword is properly balanced, it will work as a lever. Use your off-hand to guide it, and your strong hand to lend the force to the attack or parry.
• If you don't need to block, don't - it is a whole lot easier to get out of the way than use brute force. Your opponent(s) may be stronger than you, but they can't hurt you if you're not there. That being said, a proper parrying form is also necessary, since you cannot possibly dodge all attacks. Learn to parry while exposing as little of the vital targets on your body as possible. You need to know what your sword is designed for as well. Some swords cannot block effectively without being ruined (Katana) and some are mainly to block. For this reason there are little blocks in Japanese sword fighting as a apposed to Chinese or European sword fighting. Also remember that stepping out of line of an attack and then pushing the opponent's weapon off to the side is not only an effective defense, but allows a good opening for an attack.
• Choose your weapons carefully, and if possible, carry more than one weapon. Weapons bend, break, or become wrong for the circumstance. Be sure to carry a combination of weapons that can serve in multiple situations, and that complement each other as well as your strengths. Don't combine things such as two long swords and a bastard sword, try carrying a rapier and bastard sword so they complement each other.
• While this may not be true 100% of the time, use smaller and lighter swords. Great Swords and claymores are heavy and not very agile. They will tire you out faster than shorter, single-handed swords which are lighter and much more maneuverable. In a sword fight agility is everything. Having a big sword just tires you out and is meaningless if you can't hit anything. Remember, these are swords, not clubs: they cut, not crush, so having a big heavy sword is unnecessary.( keep in mind that although bigger swords ARE heavier than one-handed swords, bastard swords and two-handed swords still only weigh in at less than 8 pounds. Real two-handers are made for a reason, and their weight and balance are spectacular: they're specialised weapons. see the ARMA essay on the two-handed great sword in the sources for more information)
• If you're using both hands to grasp a sword (as with a so-called "bastard" or a hand-and-a-half sword), keep your strong hand right under the guard and the other hand (the off-hand) right above the pommel. Keep your arms flexed at the elbows (but not stiff), with your strong fist in front of your solar plexus and the sword positioned as described above. When defending, your strong arm should not move far from this position.
• The art of the sword is this: to kill or incapacitate your opponent in the shortest possible time, with the least amount of effort. Once you have engaged in combat, fight to win. Compassion, chivalry, and good sportsmanship are wonderful concepts, but if it's a choice between you or your enemy, the choice is obvious. Often, the fighter who is more willing to be merciless will be the one left standing after a battle. Sad, but true.
• Never jump or take both feet off the ground. Try for 2 feet (0.6 m) at all times. While jumping may look cool, it will get you killed as you cannot change direction in midair and your balance is gone. You are using a sword as well and therefore you need extra stability and balance. Keeping your feet planted and on the ground is very important. Also, when stepping slide your feet instead of lifting them, this way you can change direction or plant them quickly.
• Practice on varied terrain. Wet grass, gravely roads, twisted vine covered forest trails, corn fields, sandy beaches, rocky hillsides, mud, sand dunes, etc, etc. All may happen at one time or another. Having experienced footing in each will give a good advantage.
• Practice in various environmental conditions. Learn to either ignore the weather and/or use it to your advantage.
• When you fight an opponent, you should be alert of your surroundings enough to be able to hear other enemies creeping up on you.
• This might sound like a surprise to some but "holding your blade in the air still" is a great way to get your very own sword stuck through your side, never block still. European men-at-arms or knights never blocked as such but always kept an offensive parry and always advanced on their enemy. Thus resulting in a combat tactic tome written and reproduced as a popular command.
• A good grip on your sword is as important as the sword itself.
• If your using a GreatSword, your strikes should be long and far. It's OK to twirl, but you'll have a back-up attack, perfectly in line. Using your GreatSword Handle for a quick stun is highly recommended.
• Never let your opponent distract you.
• Most of the time people are defending their upper body, occasionally strike for the legs and feet to either disable standing, or even to just induce a small amount of pain.

Warnings!

• When fencing (for fun, like kids with sticks), the #1 mistake most people make is they try to hit the sword instead of the person. If you keep that in mind - hitting the person (his hand, body, or head), not his sword - you can more easily defeat someone who is attacking your sword (or stick). Plus, you find your posture and confidence change, and that usually spooks an amateur.
• When using a two-handed blade, keep your arms from crossing. You lose much of your maneuverability, which can be disastrous. Use the "lever" grip described above.
• Never, ever turn around. Although flashy and cool, it is largely ineffective, and doesn't work. Turning your back to your opponent, even for a second, can have fatal consequences, so don't do it!
• It's a cliché, but always expect the unexpected. There never were any clearly defined rules of sword fighting other than survival. Your opponent could kick at you, throw dirt in your face, or any one of a thousand other things to distract you. Remember that these are tactics that you can also employ.
• Never, ever let go of your sword. A single blow on an airborne sword will send it flying, making you defenseless. Unless you've got more than one sword to waste, keep your hands on your weapon.
• Sword twirling is usually reserved only for drum majors leading a marching band. In combat sword twirling can result in losing the grip on your sword, as well as leave you exposed to attack. That said, doing a "windmill" or figure-eight with a two-handed blade can leave a less experienced fighter intimidated - though it is tiring, and is not advisable against a more experienced opponent.
• Expect to be cut, or worse. A warrior who is worried about his own skin tends to freeze up in the middle of battle.
• In an actual combat situation, the rules in a competition don't apply. There are no points or time-outs, and that honor codes except personal ones don't apply. This is a case where you may gain advantage over your opponent, by knowing what kind of person he is and playing off his personal codes of honor or ego.
• Remember that there are no awards for 2nd place in a sword fight. 1st place means you are still standing when the fight is over. 2nd place leaves you dead. This means that, once you set out to fight someone with a sword, or indeed, any weapon, your ultimate goal is survival, not a prize.
• Staying on the defensive is only partially effective. In historic German fencing, keeping your opponent on the defensive is the best way to keep them from attacking. Use with care.
• It is said that the greatest warrior is the one who never has to draw his sword. This can mean that a swordsman has only himself to compare to and doesn't need to test himself against an opponent. More practically, if you are in a true sword fight, seriously consider running away. 
• Sword fighting is a good way to get killed and is very hard to explain to the authorities (hence why duels are illegal). 
• A three-inch thrust or slice in your neck/face area is fatal or debilitating, 80% of the time. This means that the most likely outcome of a real sword fight is that the "loser" dies fast, and the "winner" dies slow. 
• If you survive a sword fight without injury, consider yourself lucky, and try to avoid such things in the future.

The greatest warrior is the one who never has to draw his sword.

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The ancient immortals.

The handful of gifted storytellers who ply this country, still recall the didactic story of the Cornafau Anfar and the hubris which had brought them low. Many of their ancient rules and regulations were recalled by the Bards and the story often descended into a dull litany, riddled with dry lists and boring moral invective but storytellers come in all shapes and sizes in Prydein. The sobering story of the Cornafau Fawr is taught to children across Prydein and Gallia and remains a firm favourite with the more professional story tellers to this day.

*   *   *   *   *

“The two great families which had come to dominate our early world, were from two distinctly different races. One was the House of Caleb, whose tribe was civilised and sophisticated and had taken to burying their dead with distinctive drinking beakers of a fine design and a subtle beauty. The second great family was the House of Grut, a dark mountain tribe of merciless hunter-killers, who were everything the House of Caleb were not. The House of Grut had perfected their method of battle using huge double-headed battle axes of perforated stone and the giant warriors who wielded them, were buried with these fearsome weapons.

The Cornafau were naturally gigantic, as were their truly ancient Godly progenitors and these two hale tribes lived in some-sort of peace with each other, mostly by keeping their distance. This didn’t last however and eventually as they were so different, they came to war with each other. Thus, they fought among themselves for many centuries one family against the other, cleaving off each other’s heads with a great and furious difficulty until in time, their numbers were reduced to just thirty-three male warriors and thirty-three female warriors in each of the two families. This marked a cessation in their warring and ended the long bloody years of PenAgr Fawr, the great ‘early age’ of head-taking, which inspired the enduring and honoured cult of the head-hunter and stimulated those wild and ancient Bards to write these enduring englyns.

In this long period of time and thus reduced, the two families eventually came to yearn for peace and let from the long ages of slaughter and sought to rebuild the amity between themselves, which they did at their great council after much violent debate, deciding to separate and remain apart. Many years of peace and harmony were then known to them and they built their massive houses and halls apart from each other, settling to the earth and begetting many children, all of whom were still buried with either a fine-looking beaker or a stone axe but neither tribe would associate with the other. They were great warriors all and soon became restless with the boredom of peace and eventual loneliness, but they kept their blood-oaths, as they had never yet broken one. In this frustrating time they drifted away from their Gods and neglected them, thinking no more of them and this caused a black, twisting upheaval of vengeful wrath in the Underworld below. In response to this neglect, Lug and Camulo together made a spell of ‘adamantine’ on these people as a test but more as an amusement and to settle a gambit between them. Only two such powerful Gods working in complete harmony could make so powerful a magic and that earth-shaking, omnipotent spell transformed the twin tribes into the Cornafau Anfar, the immortal ones!

These now immortal giants were thus impervious to any wound, which would heal itself quickly once the offending weapon was removed from the body. Many wounding weapons could also be borne by these huge, now immortal warriors and withdrawn at ease, with little pain or discomfort witnessed. Their wounds would heal by the count of three and only three tiny drops of blood were allowed to fall from each wound. These fearsome and immortal giants however, could be slain still but only by each other and that by cutting off the head of the vanquished, clean and with a blade of metal or hewn stone.

Over the following centuries, the mountains of ice which had conquered and occupied the earth melted away, revealing a much bigger world to those warlike and impervious giants. Marvellously made invulnerable to all others, they determined together to conquer all the newly revealed surrounding lands of the mortals and to gather much war booty and many heads for their amusement. Thus enjoined, they were the rulers of all the high Caucasus mountain Kingdoms of the giants and their cunning Alchemist priests had devised a way of preserving the taken heads of the mortals in cedar oil, as the severed heads of the immortals never perished. So the Cornafau Anfar pleased with the work of their holy men, took their dread army to the lowlands to make a great and bounteous reaping of mortal heads.

Following uncountable years of slaughter and the taking of mountains of severed heads, this dark and perilous period of history became known as PenAgr Fach.  A thousand years of joyful slaughter had passed and the jaded giants of the Cornafau Anfar eventually turned their gaze toward the sacred isles of Prydein. These giants of the Cornafau Anfar had become complacent over this vast period of time and when they waded across the German Sea to invade Prydein, it is told that they came ashore at a most beautiful and abundant cove.

There was much shade under blossoming trees in this sheltered bay and the air was cool and sweet with the fragrance of their bounty. The spring water which flowed from a musical brook nearby was like the finest wine and all around, the boughs in the orchards were heavy with the sweetest and most luscious fruit. Here the Cornafau Anfar came to abandon all thoughts of conquest and put-aside their two patron Gods, to worship a woman who awaited them there, a cunning woman who cleverly deceived them with magic to believe she was the Goddess Isis. The warriors forgot their intended and oath-sworn invasion and made themselves comfortable on the soft yellow sand, whilst the woman sang to them in such exquisite tones, they became completely enraptured. They praised her and adored her, promising their devotion and making oaths to her sanctity and to her future worship.

‘Isis of the Cove’ demurred but whilst accepting their devotion, instructed them to continue their conquest, as they would need a Dun of their own from which to conquer the fabled land of the Brythons. The Cornafau Anfar needed no second invitation to do battle and in earnest honour of Isis of the Cove, they dedicated the coming battle to her and not to Lug and Camulo as they had done for so many uncounted centuries, adding immeasurable injury to insult.  Lug and Camulo were deeply wounded at their loss of respect and glory and their amity was hard-strained at the treason of these immortal giants, so they decided that the adamantine spell would be undone without their knowledge and at a particular time of their own choosing. The two Gods embraced in their Underworld lair and then rose up together to drive away the imposter from the Cove, before drawing near to the field of battle and there took gambit on various aspects of the imminent slaughter.

The immortal giants of the Cornafau Anfar moved to slaughter their first tribe of aboriginal Brythons, to claim more land and to make more murder, for more booty and many more prized heads. This they did at a careless walking pace amid much laughter, playfulness and drunkenness. Certain they could not be killed except by one of their own and as they were sworn with a sacred oath of blood in this regard, they strode onward in fine mood, clapping each other on their huge backs and smiling broadly. Half of them carried ancient swords, whilst the other half swung enormous double-headed axes of edged and polished blue stone. The Cornafau Anfar paused not at the sight of the great host of warriors arrayed before them on the fortified and palisaded heights of a hillfort. Laughing and joking amongst each other, they sauntered up to the battlements and bestrode the ditches, expecting fully to slay the diminutive enemy to the last man, woman, child and beast within the small fortress. The little children and beasts would then be roasted together on the iron spits and devoured in the grand feast which was sure to follow, after the dull labour of plucking out small spears, swords and axes, whilst swinging heavy weapons and splashing in blood for many hours. At the very point when the first war spear was thrown from the battlements, Lug and Camulo unmade their cunning work and their adamantine spell of invincibility was broken in a flash, the Giants’ invincible power rescinded forever.

The Cornafau Fawr strutted toward their enemy with the most extreme arrogance as was their custom, but they knew not that their time on this Earth had ended. They began to receive a great many injuries, as clouds of arrows and spears flew from the battlements and tore into their flesh, felling a few of those gigantic warriors from the onslaught. When the Brythons saw that the rumours were untrue, that their foe were indeed giants but in every way mortal, they stormed over their battlements and poured into the giants below like an unstoppable landslide of sharpened iron and bronze. The giants were stunned to inaction with absolute disbelief as however small their enemy, they were fierce and fearless beyond belief and there were thousands of them. The Cornafau were scythed-down like gigantic stalks of ripe wheat and Lug and Camulo’s dark Underworld was drenched in their rare blood, as the ancient line of giants were swarmed as if by ants and cut to pieces, almost to a man and to a woman.

Two warriors from the House of Caleb; the honoured and respected Gŵyr Calebo ap Calebello and his daughter Gawres Cunagallo ferch Calebo were survivors of this historic blood-letting, who were delayed from the battle by a large band of drunken mercenaries who had attempted to way-lay them. They had easily scattered their robbers but then came late upon the battlefield and saw before them a great and terrible slaughter, which had destroyed their people. Staying hidden and looking over a nearby hill, they witnessed their once immortal brothers being cut to pieces amid great celebration by the victorious defenders. The tiny enemy warriors with their red dragon pennants, were dancing and singing in their victory and were red from head to foot with the gore of their efforts. Father looked at daughter and they both guessed the worst. Calebo and Cunagallo withdrew carefully and began to plan their uncertain future as they trotted away.

There was too another survivor that day, one from the wild ranks of House Grut and he was known as GrutArd and he was known too, to be a monstrous and black-hearted Chieftain. GrutArd was a notorious head-hunter, who longed to murder and loved nothing more than to feast on the tender flesh of captured children. Eschewing the hours of sweaty axe-slinging and the plucking-out of stinging barbs, he had drifted backwards in the sauntering crowd of immortal giants, to slink away to the rear-guard of the formation. Planning to run-in at the end to claim his share of the spoils, he eased himself down on to a comfortable seat on the grass, where he could watch the amusement. GrutArd threw his beautifully pierced blue stone battle-axe to the turf at his feet, before pulling a small amphora of wine from his tunic and he took a long swig. At the outset of battle, GrutArd saw the death of the first immortal and he coughed up a gout of red wine and spittle in shock. The gouts of blood emanating from his mortally wounded relations had told their own story however and GrutArd slunk away in stunned disbelief, as the shocking one-sided slaughter had ensued.

As fate would have it, these two surviving parties from each family met later that morning further north, at one of the eleven great and holy crossroads of Prydein. Both parties were unsure as to whether they were still immortal or not and this uncertainty caused them to pause and eye each other suspiciously. Both senior men were suddenly consumed with a great hatred for each other as old enmities resurfaced amid the uncertainty, bringing with them painful memories of long-dead ancestors, killed in the internecine blood-letting of ancient history.

“Blackguard and thief!” Spat Gŵyr Calebo, drawing his great sword.

“Ha and where were you, you mouse?” GrutArd roared back at him, hefting his huge blue stone battle-axe and spitting into the ground between them in the age-old tradition.

The young Lady Cunagallo moved smartly to stand between the two great warriors with her arms outstretched, arguing for calm and the need for prudent discussion. The daughter although famously ferocious, remained unarmed and argued bravely for diplomacy and repeated to the two huge warriors, that they were the last three Cornafau in existence and should be allies and friends not enemy. Although Calebo was amenable, the undeniable hatred of GrutArd could not be appeased however and so they circled each other, each on the very point of attack and only the calming, mellifluous words of Lady Cunagallo kept them apart.

Her intellect and fine vocabulary were her weapons and her immutable reasoning was her shield. Cunagallo was perceptive, compelling and true and she called upon all the Gods to confirm her proposal; that each warrior must go to the very opposite ends of Prydein, never to meet again. Gawres Cunagallo ferch Calebo was answered mightily by Arglwydd Taranu himself right over their heads, making them fall and prostrate themselves to the ground in fear. All three were scared witless, for nothing strikes fear into the hearts of Brythons even the immortal ones, like the terrifying prospect of the heavens falling on their heads.

For an hour, the three were pinned to the earth by the maelstrom of forked lightning and hailstones which Fwlch and Taranu hurled at them in their displeasure, acting as Ambassadors for the two piqued Gods; Lug and Camulo. Fwlch scorched and scoured the earth around them with bolts of his pure brilliant fury, whilst Taranu blasted them with curses, threats and insults but also with the strict demand that they must obey, or they would no longer hold back the venom of Lug and Camulo and their fate would be sealed.

Once Fwlch and Taranu were done and moved away, the three stood once more and whilst suitably subdued, it was very clear that the mutual hatred remained. However, they decided in their wisdom to take the oath proposed by Cunagallo and offered by the two Lords of the Sky, to do as bid and each great Gŵyr swore an oath to take themselves to the very ends of Prydein and so to never meet again, until the end of days.

Gŵyr Calebo must migrate south and west, to the very toe of Prydein and there settle a southern tribe; the Cornafau Dde, the tribe of the Sword and War-Horn. GrutArd was to travel northwards, to the very crown of Prydein and to establish his people there on the Coast of the Black Bull. This great tribe became the Cornafau Ddu, the tribe of the Battle-Axe and War-Horn and who would one day produce the first Gadwyr warrior. GrutArd agreed to this but with great reluctance, as this dark and dread warrior had been accustomed to doing precisely what he pleased over the many centuries of his debauched and depraved life. It was then that GrutArd in a fit of spite had sundered the sacred hill of DunAlclwyd in two and to the very ground, when he passed on that bitter northward journey of his into myth and legend.

Gawres Cunagallo was tasked to travel to the very heart of Prydein and establish her tribe in the midlands there, to act as mediator, sentinel and buffer between the two warring warriors for all time. So in the heart of this great country, Cunagallo ferch Calebo founded the great, wealthy and much respected tribe of the Cornafau Calon; the tribe of the Crossed War-Horns and who became known too as the People of the Tactful Heart.

If two travelling warrior mercenaries of the future, offspring from either opposing tribe should ever meet, they would instantly know that each was mortal enemy to the other, at a distance of twenty reeds and by a great clamour in their heads. This was so that they could both either remove themselves or set about each other smartly as they saw fit and then fight to the utter death. Should more than one warrior ever come to fight as in a shield-wall or a gang, they would be removed from this earth by the Gods in an instant, to live in a silent black cave for eternity and to never reach the Underworld, and so would never return to this world in whatever form. Only single combat could be enjoined by those wild old warriors and even that deplored given their God’s-given alarm, which had been physically impossible to ignore but which also ceased in an instant should the warriors withdraw, or attack as they often did. Not only do the glorious Gadwyr hail from these heroic ancients, the Ailyllwr also claim lineage from this truly primeval line of progenitors and state that their intuitive, built-in alarm whispers and their shape-shifting almost mythical hunting abilities, are a small remnant of this clarion call to ‘enemy-close’ and felt only by the direct descendants of those long-dead immortals. These giants and legendary immortals are long gone from this earth and the powerful curses and restrictions which bound them are long-forgotten too, to all but a few.

The Cornafau Calon have since this ancient time of foundation, kept good relationships with their sister tribe the Cornafau Dde in the far south, with regular trade and intermarriage with their families. They have good relationships with their northern, highland relatives of the Cornafau Ddu too, with occasional cross-marriages and more irregular trading. However, they are oath-sworn in blood to the debt of all their bloodline, to always remain neutral in the ancient and irredeemable Galanas between the northern and southern Cornafau families, one that goes back those countless generations to the very beginning of time. Moreover, they are sworn never to invite or receive a person of both tribes in one of their Ports, Duns or Towns at one time together, for fear of the greatest violence and slaughter ensuing from this eternal ‘blood-feud’.

Although the perceived descendants of the Cornafau Fawr have fought in armies and shield-walls in recent generations, no warrior has suffered the mental clamour for a similar length of time, except perhaps in reduced form by the matchless Ailyr. Many thought the curse had faded over the centuries but the Cornafau still hold-on to the old traditions in many ways, now mostly for ceremony and the perpetuity of their culture and history. The Cornafau Calon are sworn to remain neutral to this ancient Galanas and oath-sworn further, to only offer hospitality to one tribe of the Cornafau or the other, at one time. They are further sworn to endeavour to do all that is right, to keep the enemy warriors apart from each other if by accident they should meet on their lands, as in the past once two opposing tribesmen were enjoined in death-combat a huge storm of violence erupted, and a great hue and cry was thrown up by the fight, resulting in great collateral damage and death.

The mediators of Prydein; the modern Cornafau Calon, have become extremely wealthy in the intervening centuries, a great deal coming from trade and almost all their imported goods arrived via their Porth Defed, the safe harbour situated inside a fine bend of the Afon Dyfrdwy. Most of their vast wealth however, has been accrued by their assiduously prosecuted legal and diplomatic systems. Protected by their authority and by the walled stronghold of CaerDyfry, a little over six miles from the estuary of Aber Dyfrdwy in Breged and facing the major arterial river of Arglwydd Linn Belissama, their port had flourished.

Iddel ap Madoc’s Druids and Officials at CaerUricorn are renowned not just for their famed diplomacy, but also for their necessarily accurate celestial calculations. They have become empirical in these heavenly deductions, so that all their dealings with their clients, especially their two warring and related tribes are done to the strictest schedule of the calendar, agreed in advance with all parties. Both extreme Houses of the Cornafau are told exactly when they can send their caravans north or south to their bustling markets in the wealthy heart of Prydein. This constantly adjusted calendar must always and necessarily be strictly adhered-to and it has been thus for thirty-three generations. The last time two mortal warriors of north and south met accidentally was fourteen generations ago, when a descendant of GrutArd called Grutimon lost his head to a descendant of Gŵyr Calebo, known as one Gŵyr Caleborno.

The sacred arms of these two great ancestors Caleborno and Grutimon are kept in reverence by this neutral, midland tribe to this day and in great secrecy. The bright and terrifying soul reaping blade of Gŵyr Caleborno from the southern tribe of Calebo, was reverentially laid alongside the monstrous, blue-black and pierced, bone splitting Axe of Nêr Grutimon of the northern tribe of GrutArd, forged as it was from alien meteorite steel. These priceless and ancient icons have become more than the weapons of the Cornafau’s predecessors, as they had over the generations become mythical treasures to the three tribes. Both the stone axe and the sword had to be secretly enshrined, as they are rumoured to possess unassailable magic power and the Bards sing, that no wound caused by either blade, steel or stone would ever heal. The Cornafau Calon remain the spiritual leaders and a legal and religious powerbase for all three families of the great Tribe of the War-Horn but neither north nor south could ever touch or even see the wondrous blades of their two ancestors. They were kept forever secret to them, lest one of them should take-up one of the weapons and lay asunder the whole of Prydein. The head-hunting immortal warriors of the Cornafau Anfar have passed from this living world long ago but there are still whispered rumours in the extreme northern and southern tribes that now and again somewhere, another immortal is born.…”

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