The Wrath Beyond Regret

     "From whence comes the icy breath of sirens to strike my realm, and cause it to shatter?" asked Hathuurn of his warlord, Ragnar.
     "It blows from the lands which are called Ęberaun, my liege, and grows more fierce with each passing day" Ragnar answered.
     As they stood talking in the Great Hall of the imperial city in the lands which are known as the Jindsmarn, the high-pitched wail danced against the walls, and made them rattle in perilous reply. For quite some time the whistling winds had been tormenting the transparent realm of the Jinds with their lethal serenade. Never before had there come such a powerful assault as this one. The lands of the Jinds were constructed of illusions, and were usually impervious to the weaponry of nature. This menace of sound was unnatural though. It penetrated the illusion as acid eating through glass.
     "How can it be that the Mardots have come to produce a weapon such as bothers us so?" Hathuurn queried.
     "They possess a book of magical secrets" Ragnar replied, "which they stole from he whom the Lunn call The Wind What Canst Sleep. With the knowledge that this book has taught them they have increased their arts to a dangerous level."
     "What manner of book should this be that would enable the Mardots to develop their siren's cries into such resonance as to shatter illusions?" Hathuurn cried out in anguish, as a spire toppled, and splintered across the domed roof of the rotunda of the Great Hall. For an entrancing moment the splinters cascaded down the steeply angled roof, their staccato timbre mingling elusively with the constant drone of the siren's wailing.
     "It is the fabled Book of Nordo, the Tales of the Golden Comet, wherein the sage Nordo recorded lost secrets of the arts of order and chaos."
     Hathuurn resolved not to just sit by and watch his splendid realm shatter into pieces by the war arts of the Mardots. The Jinds had once, in eons past, warred with the Mardots, and Hathuurn bitterly hated the son of Maelnru, the murderer of his dear father. This new treachery of Greunweiln would not be tolerated. But greater than his hatred was the keen wisdom of Hathuurn.
     With a plate of silver carven with sacred runes clutched in his left hand close to his chest, and a sprig of gadderwort in his right hand, Hathuurn waved the sprig of gadderwort in great spiral patterns till the air turned an auburn hue; Hathuurn was summoning Juye, The Wrath Beyond Regret. Presently the brownness parted, and Juye hissed in compliance to Hathuurn's wishes.
     "In stealth you must go to the lands of the Mardots, to Ęberaun, and there you will note the portal through which my armies might pass to bring war upon the Mardots" he was instructed. "Go in haste, but with caution, for it is known that the geometries of Ęberaun are treacherous to manoeuvre despite the power of illusion."
     And so Juye set forth towards the lands of the Mardots, guided by the beacon of the sirens' cries.
     In time he reached the hinterlands of Ęberaun, and there he espied a barrier of rubidium. It glistened silvery white in the waning light of the star Berielle. A coldness that bit sharply to the touch effervesced from the barrier, but to Juye's deathly coldness it paled in comparison. Juye warmed himself in its presence.

     To the right and to the left, for as far as the naked eye could see, the barrier snaked through valley and between mountain ranges in unending straightness. There was naught else to do but follow it, and so Juye set about making his way along the perimeter in search of a point of ingress.
     As the star Berielle watched over him, Juye finally found what he looked for. It was not the true gates from which the spires droned in constant song, but rather a thin crack through which he found he could pass. It lay in the shadow of the Asgurdth Hills. It would be here that the Jinds could pass to bring war upon the Mardots; the back door to this hated realm.
     As an unicorn Juye entered the lands of the Mardots, and went unnoticed by the Mardots who entertained such beasts in their lands. Never did his illusion falter, although it was much tried by the subtle variations in the geometric construction of Ęberaun, Strong was the malice that Juye felt for the Mardots, and therefore strong was his determination to maintain his illusion in this strange land. Though a stranger to these lands might lose his footing in the incongruous surroundings, Juye was sure-footed in the guise of the equine beast. And in this guise he moved among the Mardots, and took note of their realms.