"She died. Like a whisper in the wind, she was gone.”
”Calard stared at her in confusion. Had she not been a damsel of the Lady, he would have assumed she was touched in the head. She was so familiar, too, that it felt like he knew her, just as he felt that he knew this place. “Who?” he asked at last, his voice a hoarse whisper. The damsel looked at him, and he was jolted by the sheer depths of power he saw in her grey-blue eyes."
“Our mother,” breathed his twin sister, the damsel Anara..."
- —Anara reveals her identity to Calard.[1]
Lady Anara of Garamont was a powerful Grail Damsel, the sister of the famed Grail Knight Calard and the Blood Knight Bertelis. She played a vital role during many of Bretonnia's darkest hours.
History[]
Anara was born into the noble family of Garamont, alongside her twin brother, Calard. Upon her birth, the Garamont family could never have known that Anara was blessed. The talent had first manifested in Anara as a child, she had been unable to control it, and had been terrified by the endless barrage of thoughts that had intruded into her mind. She had learnt things that a child should never know, having inadvertently eavesdropped on the darkest thoughts of everyone she had come into contact with. It had been maddening...[1]
Around that time, she had first begun to see glimpses of events that had not yet come to pass. They had scared and confused her. In one instance she had begged to one of her father's knights before a tournament, pleading that if he rode his horse the next day, he would die. The knight had laughed at her fear, as had the gathered host of courtiers, but Anara would not be consoled. The knight had promised the young girl that he would be safe. It was not, however, a promise that he could keep. The powerful grey had been spooked by a sudden movement in the crowd, and had reared. The knight had fallen backwards and struck his head against a rock. He had died instantly.[1]
Anara's father had turned fearful eyes towards her when he learnt of the incident. Freak. The thought had stung her, and she had begun to cry. Calard had hugged her tight. She endured his embrace, for she knew that it gave him comfort. Her father had been relieved when the Fay Enchantress had come for her. She had felt the fear emanating from her father and his knights as the Enchantress strode into his hall unannounced and unchallenged, and she had secretly revelled in seeing the men cowed so. That first meeting was forever ingrained in her mind's eye. Ethereally tall and as slender as a branch of willow, yet radiating such power that the breath was stolen from Anara's lungs, the Enchantress was at once the most beautiful and the most terrifying creature she had ever seen. She was the highest authority in all of Bretonnia, greater even than the King, for she spoke with the voice of the goddess.[1]
Their eyes had met across the hall and in that instant the Enchantress had known her: everything that she was and everything that she could be. Anara's fear had dissipated like a fog in the rising sun. It was replaced by joy and yearning, for in those moments she realised that she was no freak and no witch, and that her powers were not a curse; far from it, they were gifts from the Lady. It seemed as though she stared into the Enchantress's almond-shaped eyes for an eternity, sharing a silent communication, before the silence had been broken.[1]
The Enchantress announced that she was taking Anara, turning her ageless gaze towards the Lord of Garamont, she proclaimed that she was no longer his daughter. She was a child of the Lady, and it may be that he would never see her again. Her father nodded his head, unable to form words, as if stricken mute. Then the Enchantress had extended one graceful hand to Anara, and she had heard her voice, though her lips did not move. She bade Anara to come with her, to become what she was destined to be, that she was not alone anymore...[1]
Grail Damsel[]
In the years that followed, Anara was tutored in the magical arts by the Fay Enchantress, and grew into a powerful Grail Damsel. She was no longer the carefree child that Calard would remember. She was clearly touched by the fey, and everything about her resonated with otherworldliness. She spoke in a soft, distant voice, and her eyes often grew unfocused. Her movements were calm and full of grace, as if time slowed in her presence. She seemed to radiate an elemental strength. She was like the sea becalmed, serene, beautiful and peaceful, but beneath the surface, deep within, there lay a similar power to that of the sea: destructive, dangerous, and somehow ageless.[1]
While performing her duties to the Lady, Anara encountered the revered Grail Knight, Reolus. The pair fell in love, with the living saint becoming Anara's champion and protector.[1]
The Gave[]
When the Beastkin herds of The Gave threatened to consume Bretonnia, Anara, still young for a Damsel of the Lady, was called forth to lend her magical abilities in defence of the realm. First, she located her twin brother Calard. Within the ruins of their mother’s ancestral castle, she revealed her identity to him, before returning to the grand war-camp as they prepared to face the Beastmen. Those within the camp instantly recognised her heritage. That she was Calard’s twin was obvious, for the similarities between them were striking; they shared the same eyes and the same colouring. She was short and petite where Calard was broad and strong, but even small gestures betrayed the kinship between them: the way she unconsciously brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, and the way they seemed to mirror each other’s movements.[1]
To her half-brother Bertelis, she was not the carefree child that Calard had wistfully spoken of. She was clearly touched by the fey, and her presence unnerved him. Bertelis was certain that she was mad, but he had no doubt of her power.[1]
Siege of Lyonesse[]
"Amid the mayhem, Calard noticed that the grail knight had a scarf wrapped around his upper left arm - a token of affection, gifted by a noblewoman. He realised that he recognised the mauve, silk scarf as belonging to his sister."
"Your sister is far more powerful than you give her credit for," said Reolus. "By the Lady's grace, Lyonesse may yet survive the night."
- —Reolus and Calard, discussing Anara during the Siege of Lyonesse.[1]
When the island-city of Lyonesse came under attack from the Skaeling hordes of Jarl Egil Styrbjorn, Anara unleashed her mystical powers against the Chaos-worshippers' war-fleet...[1]
She stood precariously atop the battlements of the city's eastern gatehouse, arms lifted to the heavens and her head thrown back as she invoked the power of the goddess. If she slipped, she would have fallen more than a hundred feet to her death, but she had no fear. Her black hair whipped around her wildly like the serpentine locks of a gorgon as the fierce winds buffeted her. She stood barefoot, unmindful of the ice and snow turning her toes blue, and her wispy, sheer dress fluttered around her like a shroud. Nothing mattered but the rush of power surging through her.[1]
The Men-at-Arms stationed atop the gatehouse eyed her warily, making warding motions with their hands, for even they could feel the gathering energy being channelled through the Damsel. Knights kissed tokens of the Lady as they felt the presence of the goddess manifesting within Anara.[1]
Below her, the Norscan longships were just reaching the island, horn-helmed warriors leaping the gunwales into the shallows in their eagerness to take the walls. Thousands of arrows sliced through the night, cutting down the first wave of Norscans onto the beach, but there were more enemies than archers, and countless hundreds of the northern barbarians, bellowing war cries and waving axes, were streaming towards the wall sections damaged by the devastating barrage.[1]
The clouds roiled above as Anara continued to draw the winds of magic into her, and her limbs began to shudder. It threatened to consume her, and she clenched her hands into fists, but her concentration was solid, and a slight smile played at the corner of her lips as she slowly gained mastery over the power she was attempting to control. Her eyes began to glow as if there was a light burning within her, and as she moved her lips, speaking in the language of the fey, blinding light billowed from her mouth. Wisps of ethereal fog rose from her skin, and her hair played out around her as if charged with static energy. The air crackled with intensity and an electric tang could be tasted upon the air.[1]
Waves crashed furiously against the shore, and Norscan longships rose and fell as the swell intensified. Walls of water crashed over the sides of several, and one was smashed against the rocks as it was turned sideways by a towering wave, its hull splintering like matchwood. Men were dragged screaming into the icy waters, which churned as frenzied sharks feasted, turning the waters red and the foam pink with blood.[1]
Still Anara continued to call upon the power of the Lady, and a trickle of blood ran from one nostril. Her legs were quivering, threatening to buckle, but no man stepped forward to support her, fearing that to do so would break her concentration, dooming them all. A thick fog began to form across the raging strait, hanging low over the water and growing thicker with every passing moment.[1]
The ocean continued to heave, rising and falling with increasing fury. The Norse strained at the tillers of their longships, desperate to keep their vessels astern of the heaving surf, for if they were turned even slightly when a wave hit them they would be lost. Few civilisations were as skilful as the Norse at navigating treacherous seas but, even so, more longships were being overturned and smashed against the rocks as the surging ocean swell continued to build.[1]
Within minutes, the unnatural fog surrounding the island-fortress was so thick as to be utterly impenetrable, swallowing all sound. The shouts and roars of the Norse became dim and muted, and even the pounding of the waves turned faint. The fog rolled up the beach, obscuring the rocks and the Norse until it caressed the castle walls. Looking down from the battlements, it looked as though an ethereal ghost sea surrounded the fortress...[1]
Sources[]
- 1: Knights of Bretonnia (Omnibus), by Anthony Reynolds