TheStronghold

The food at The Stuffed Chicken belied the inn's name. As far as Sarah could tell, the chicken had never been stuffed in its life. The meat was tough and stringy. It had a disturbing grey color and Sarah began to wonder if the meat was even chicken. A few short years ago, Sarah would have been delighted that someone else was preparing the meal and that there was enough to go around. The Sword Mother knew she had seen enough famine and want in her many years as a barbarian slave to be grateful for the food. But the events of the last few days left her too unsettled to really be hungry.

Sarah set her meat down on the dented metal plate and looked up to see how her compatriots were faring. Across the age-stained table, Yargma was tearing into the chicken, ignoring its odd color and equally oblivious to its stringy nature. The maturing barbarian still had the appetite of a young one and it showed. At six feet and eight inches tall, she was probably done growing upwards, but she was still filling out. Her enormous, muscled hands gripped the mead flagon as Sarah's hands might grip a teacup, wrapping around it with room to spare. She drank with obvious pleasure and set the flagon back on the table. Her short top-knot of hair bobbed a little in the process.

Next to Yargma, Cerevin looked small, even for a full-grown man. He sat neatly in the well-used but ill-made wooden chair, concentrating on his meal. He carefully cut the meat away from the bone with his dagger, ignoring the dull knife the serving wench had brought with the meat. His mouth, framed by a closely trimmed, dark brown goatee, pursed slightly as he concentrated on the tricky bit near the end of the bone. He didn't look up from his task but said, "is something bothering you, Sarah?"

Even after the last few years of traveling with him, Sarah had never really gotten used to his ability to read people. Not that she was particularly skilled at hiding her emotions, which had gotten them into more than one altercation. Yargma glanced up at Cerevin, then at Sarah, and went back to her meal.

Sarah sighed. "Of course something's bothering me," she said quietly and took a sip of her mead. Sarah was not a coward and running away from trouble rather than facing it made her very unhappy. She glanced around the room, trying to be inconspicuous. "Are you saying you're not bothered by it?"

Cerevin cut a small, bite-sized piece of meat and put it in his mouth. If the taste offended him, he showed no trace of it. After finishing his bite, he said, "not at all." He set down his fork and took a sip of his wine. That made his face scrunch up in distaste. "Ugh," he said quietly, "I have become too accustomed to the new wines of the Eadorn islands. This wine is awful."

Yargma reached over for the wine glass and looked down at Cerevin for permission before taking a sip. He nodded and Yargma made the same face as Cerevin. "You are right," her low, but melodious voice said. "The other wine was better." She went back to her chicken, seeming ignorant of the original conversation.

Cerevin crossed his legs and looked at Sarah. He had learned to read other humans as if his life depended upon it, which it often did. But Sarah was still something of an enigma to him. She was human, but so long among barbarians that he often had trouble gauging her. "I'm not bothered because humans lie. It's what we do." Yargma grunted in agreement.

Sarah pushed her plate away from her and sat back in disgust. "Then why trust them in the first place? If you knew that little wench was going to lie, why did we take her back to her father?" Her light brown hair looked red in the firelight and its flames seemed to make her eyes flash, even though Cerevin was certain she already knew the answer. She wasn't trying to goad him, she was just angry at the situation and trying to understand her own motives.

He went back to his chicken, as if contemplating an answer. While Yargma didn't understand human motivations any better than Sarah, she did know honor when it was questioned. "Because that's what the old human paid us to do: return his daughter. And we have done our part. Our honor is sure." Yargma nodded, as if that settled the matter and eyed Sarah's chicken. Having no stomach for it, Sarah pushed her plate towards Yargma, who descended upon it like a wolf on a rabbit.

Sarah turned her head back to Cerevin, demanding an answer. It was Cerevin's turn to sigh. "I didn't know the girl was going to lie, but I suspected. Her father would have disowned her in the least and had her beheaded in the worst, if he knew the truth."

The serving girl arrived with bread and another round of drinks. When she was gone, Cerevin wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward across the table. "She was protecting herself, Sarah. She knew how upset her father would be if he found out she had sold her dowry to run off with the stable boy. So, she lied to protect herself." He sat back in his chair. "We've been over this before. Why are you so upset?"

Sarah scowled at Cerevin. She knew from experience how a well-placed lie could be as effective as a well-placed dagger at avoiding or getting out of trouble, but it had always been Cerevin telling the lie and usually there was a shade of truth to it. "I don't like having my honor called into question," said Sarah, as a deflection.

Cerevin almost choked on his chicken. He took a sip of wine to clear his throat as he coughed. Yargma smacked him on the back until he held up his hand and recovered. His eyes twinkled as he again wiped his mouth and looked up at Sarah. "After the incidents in Krevig, you can still say that with a straight face?"

Sarah rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair to sulk. "That was different," she mumbled. Cerevin shook his head and went back to his chicken. Yargma pushed her plate away and burped loudly. She sat back to clean her teeth with her own dagger, staring contentedly off into the darkness of The Stuffed Chicken's common room.

The heavy wooden beams were darkened by smoke and time and they outlined the small room. Their table was in the back corner, between the fireplace and the kitchen door. The other tables in the room were sparsely populated by small groups of men, also talking quietly and keeping to themselves. There was a threadbare and poorly stitched tapestry hanging over the fireplace. It featured a fat, proud rooster looking out over the room, quite assured of his superiority. Sarah chuckled at the image.

A few minutes later, the conversation at one of the other tables grew louder and more urgent, as the men argued over something. Sarah sat up straighter in her chair and unconsciously touched the handle of her dagger, reassuring herself that it was there. Cerevin took another sip of wine and very slightly raised an eyebrow at Sarah. Yargma saw the unspoken preparation, but didn't respond.

One of the men at the other table stood up suddenly, his chair making a screech against the floor boards. Their conversation stopped suddenly and the other tables quieted to see if something was going to happen. The man standing up glared at the other men at his table and said quietly, "you are all fools." He turned and walked out of the inn, briefly letting in the sound of a brawl from outside. None of the other men at the table tried to stop him nor go after him. The heavy wooden door slammed shut, dropping the room into silence again. The men pulled the chair back to the table and leaned in again to their private conversation.

Sarah relaxed a bit and turned back to face Cerevin. He had not relaxed and flicked his eyes briefly to his left, toward the kitchen door. Sarah and Yargma followed his indication and saw a thin man, dressed almost entirely in black, about to step out of the shadows behind Cerevin. The thin man didn't seem to notice Sarah and Yargma, being so intent on his quarry.

Yargma stood up and reached her massive arm into the darkness with impressive speed. The thin man gurgled as he tried to contain a startled cry. Yargma pulled him into the dim light by his shirt front and held him as Sarah shoved a chair into the back of his legs, forcing him to sit down suddenly. Yargma released his shirt as Sarah threw an arm around his shoulders and sat down in her own chair, holding her dagger, out of sight, up against his gut.

"Tim!" she gushed. "How the hell have you been? Long time, huh?" The other tables quieted briefly, but Sarah prodded Tim in the guts and he managed a smile. Conversation resumed and Cerevin finally leaned in to look at the intruder. He was young, having just sprouted upwards, and the completeness of his failure was just beginning to dawn on him.

Cerevin said softly, "now that we're all having a nice, civil conversation, I wonder if you'd like to tell us who sent you?" Tim scoffed quietly and might have spit on the table, but Sarah jabbed him slightly with the dagger.

"Fat chance, old man," he said. He looked excited and a little afraid, but this was clearly not the first time Tim had been in over his head.

"Well then, perhaps I should let Yargma take you out back and rip your arms off."

Tim laughed genuinely at this threat as if Cerevin had threatened to have a dragon eat his liver. Yargma looked mildly offended by his laughter and Sarah shook her head, both at the boy's ignorance and to dispel the memory. She sincerely hoped she never had to see Yargma dismember a human ever again, especially without her sword.

Cerevin tilted his head and let the insult slide. "Very well. If you're not going to tell us anything, I guess you're no good to us. Sarah, please continue." Sarah put on her very best insane grin and gently pushed on the dagger, cutting through fabric and just piercing the skin. She continued until Tim gasped involuntarily in pain and a rivulet of sweat ran down the side of his face.

Through gritted teeth, he said, "all right, I'll tell you." Sarah stopped pushing on the dagger, but left it where it was. He was breathing hard now, trying to hold on to his fear, squeezing his eyes tight.

After a few seconds, Cerevin rolled his eyes and kicked the boy's chair. Tim gurgled down a cry and glared at Cerevin. "The guild sent me," he said finally, eyes flashing in humiliation. "I'm to make it clear that you're not welcome in town, any of you." He glanced around the table and then met Cerevin's eyes levelly.

The corner of Cerevin's mouth twitched and he said, "assuming I believe you, why does the guild care whether we're in town or not?"

"We're not some backwater Eadorn port, you know. We heard about that business in Calavash a few years ago. You brought a world of hurt down on your own guild then took off for the hills." Tim looked at Cerevin with as much disgust as he could muster under the circumstances. "I was sent to encourage you to leave town before something bad happens to you."

Cerevin leaned back and tried to look amused, but Sarah saw the touch of sadness in his eyes. "If you're the 'something bad' that was going to happen to us, then I must say that I'm not very afraid." Tim started to protest but Cerevin held up his hand. "If you really are their message boy, tell the guild that we're leaving town tomorrow."

Sarah withdrew the knife from Tim's side and removed her arm from his shoulders. "I'd get that looked at, young man," she said pointing at his side. "It looks as though you've cut yourself on something." Tim glowered at her and his nostrils flared. He pushed his chair back from the table and disappeared into the shadows.

A few minutes later, Yargma announced, "I am going to bed." She stood and stretched before going up the stairs to their room. Sarah looked at Cerevin, but he was staring moodily down into his wine. She paid the serving wench for dinner and laid a hand gently on Cerevin's shoulder before following Yargma upstairs.

From the shadows of the common room, another figure watched Sarah ascend the stairs. He had seen the young boy come in, make his threat, and disappear again. Now he watched Cerevin drink his wine, lost in thought. The boy did not recognize the value of the information Cerevin had given him, but that was just as well. It was better not to have competition, if one could avoid it.

Cerevin rolled the wine around in the glass, watching the color change in the light. Some part of him wished he had never taken on this fool's quest to find the Stronghold. He would have been far better off to stay in Calavash playing the courtiers off each other, stealing and re-stealing artifacts from their various estates, spying on their offspring and reporting the inevitable illicit affairs, and otherwise honing his craft. But that all looked so petty now, so small minded, so confining after these years of wandering the world, searching where the next clue took him. He was closer now than he had ever been to finding the Stronghold and he must make this one last expedition before he would give up the search. The last clue to the Stronghold's location had not come cheap, but Cerevin believed in its authenticity, considering the source. The monks had parted with the information at substantial monetary cost and they had admitted that such payments helped fund their work.

Of all the information Cerevin had bought over the years, that was the best money spent. The map was not to scale, and surely many of the landmarks would have changed, but he had felt it was correct when he picked it up. All the other clues he had gathered fell into place when he saw the map. It led north from the city of Dreardon, where they were now, up to the great forest, then north and east through the wastelands where the barbarians lived.

He was, of course, fully aware that the monks could be making a fool of him, giving him a map that fit all the known folklore, but leading nowhere. In this case, the monks had few reason to lie. If the Stronghold was as dangerously guarded as legend told, no one would return from there. And, if someone did return, it seemed unlikely they would share the location of the Stronghold with others, so the legend would continue. And people like Cerevin would continue to make their way to the monks and their quiet knowledge. Furthermore, the monks served a god known for his good-willed nature, not a god of trickery, so the map's location was sure.

Cerevin scoffed at his own self-reassuring thoughts and finished his wine in a single gulp. He stood, stretched, and ambled toward the stairs. The man in the shadows watched Cerevin leave. He waited a bit longer to be sure Cerevin was gone, then he glided out of the shadows and out the front door of the inn. The early spring night was wet and cold on his skin, but the man smiled as he made his escape with everything he had come for.

The morning dawned cold, but bright on the Stuffed Chicken. Sarah woke with the light and wasted no time in getting up. As a slave her job would have been to stoke the fire and take down any meat from the previous night's dinner. She would have taken it to Yooma to give to the barbarian women who were with child. Sarah smiled as she remembered Yooma and paused from her packing to look down at the death marks on her right arm. Her smiled tempered when she remembered the tribe and the discovery of their fate. Yargma and Sarah had kept the tradition of the death marks, one for each life honorably taken in battle, even when they left the wastelands behind to travel with Cerevin. She had many more now than she had three years ago.

Without opening his eyes, Cerevin said, "you miss them, don't you?"

Sarah turned, her weather beaten face wrinkling as she smiled. "Of course I miss them," she said. "They were my family, my life, for so many years. You know that."

Cerevin smiled and rolled onto his back in the lumpy feather bed, sending up a cloud of dust into the air. "Of course," he said. "Yargma is out exercising?"

"Yes," said Sarah, "I heard her leave about an hour ago."

"She must be glad to be off the ship and back on dry land," said Cerevin. "I remember how crazy it made the captain when she would run back and forth the length of the ship in the morning."

Sarah rolled up her blanket and fastened it to her pack. "I don't think she'll ever forgive you for suggesting that she swim along side the ship instead."

Cerevin laughed and sat up. "I honestly didn't know she couldn't swim," he said. "But she figured it out eventually."

"Yes," said Sarah, "much to the amusement of everyone else on the ship. I can still picture her flailing about cursing a blue streak in barbarian."

Cerevin chuckled. "Yes, it's a good thing no one else on that ship could understand barbarian, or they might have taken offense at some of the things she called them. I'm still not sure what a gravak gonok is, but the way you and she get flustered when I say it, it must be bad."

Sarah flushed slightly at the curse. "Yes, that's one to keep in reserve for the direst of circumstances, hurled at a most hated enemy."

They finished packing and headed down to breakfast. Certainly life had not always been easy over the last few years, but there had certainly been enough food. The first time Cerevin had suggested eating more than once a day, Sarah had just stared at him in disbelief. But after getting used to it, Sarah had filled out from sinewy to nicely muscled. Cerevin was glad to see it happen and not just for charity's sake. She had had a hard life as a barbarian slave, but she was now more inconspicuous, which Cerevin believed was a good thing. It had been three years and they were a kingdom away, but Sarah and Yargma were still wanted in Calavash for murder.

Yargma burst in through the front door of the inn, flooding the common room with light, before letting it slam shut and walking over to Sarah and Cerevin. And the gods knew, they could use all the help they could get at being inconspicuous. Cerevin rolled his eyes and looked at Yargma when she sat down. "Could you be a bit more subtle, Yargma," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, still panting slightly and sweaty from her run.

Sarah laughed at Cerevin's scowl. "I mean, we're not on the ship any more-"

"Thank the Sword Mother," said Yargma.

"-which means other laws apply here." He glanced meaningfully between the two women. "We need to be careful."

The serving girl brought hard eggs and one leg of grey meat from last night to the table. They ate for a while in silence. "We have only one more errand in this city, right?" asked Sarah.

Cerevin nodded. "Yes, we need to find the mage I was told about. My source said he's likely to be sympathetic to our quest and come with us."

"I wonder what makes him sympathetic to our quest," Sarah wondered idly.

"Love of money would be my guess," said Cerevin. "The prospect of finding the riches of the Stronghold has made many men do many irrational things." Cerevin paused. "Not that I'm doing anything irrational, mind you."

Sarah started to protest this assertion of his rationality, but when she saw the twinkle in his eye, she knew Cerevin was playing with her. "Where do you think we'll find this mage?"

"Northwest of here, near the lighthouse," said Cerevin. "Or so I've been led to believe."

They paid for their breakfast and retrieved their packs before heading out into the city. Travelers were not uncommon here but something about the visit from young Tim last night set Cerevin on edge. He felt entirely too exposed in this city during the day and had the nagging suspicion that they were being followed. Yargma led the way at a leisurely stroll, which meant that Sarah and Cerevin had to walk quickly, just to keep up. But, letting Yargma go first did clear their path nicely.

They left the dark back streets they had been on and emerged into the port proper. Stalls of exotic foods, cloth, weapons, and other bricabrac lined the cobbled street. Hundreds of humans darted this way and that, a sea of color and motion. Cerevin moved his hand to his purse and noticed that Sarah and Yargma did the same. After the first disaster of taking them to a busy city market, Cerevin had trained them on how to avoid the pickpockets and scam artists.

When they finally reached the end of the pier, the stalls began to thin out and the business of the port began. Here were the large unloading docks for long-haul ships with big cargo. The magistrate's port authority office was also here, along with a number of city guards standing outside it. Their dark green uniforms were a stark contrast to the pale stone of the building. Cerevin was nervous about walking past them, so he paused, pretending to look at the ivory carvings for sale in one of the stalls. He coughed, clearing his throat slightly first and Sarah and Yargma drifted off their path and began browsing as well, heads down.

The guards outside the port office came to attention when the front door opened. A portly man in a dark, expensive suit stepped out of the door, looking agitated, followed by his footman and the end of what must have been a vigorous conversation. A voice from within the office said, "...we have men looking for them right now, and we'll call for you if the thieves turn up. Good day, sir."

The door closed with a thump and the city guards relaxed their attention and went back to staring out at nothing and everything. The portly man sputtered a little. "Well, I never... the nerve... have his job... glorified clerk..." The footman said nothing and followed his master away, right down the pier towards Cerevin. He risked a glance up at Yargma and Sarah. Yargma was trying on a full plate helm that hid her face and she was bent over to look in a little mirror the seller had hanging in his tent, concealing both her height and her gender. Sarah was holding a tapestry out between her and the port office, arguing with the seller about some detail Cerevin couldn't see. He smiled and picked up a large sea shell, holding it to his ear, as if listening for the ocean.

The portly man and his bland-faced lackey strode past them all and away into the crowd. Cerevin thanked the merchant for his time and retreated away from the pier, down the nearest alley. A few minutes later, Sarah and Yargma joined him.

"That was the man whose daughter we returned," said Yargma.

"Yes," said Cerevin. "And from the sounds of things, he still has not come to his senses. I suggest we find an alternate route to the lighthouse."

"Agreed," said Sarah.

They set off towards the lighthouse, meandering through the back streets and alleyways, carefully avoiding human contact whenever possible. The sun was nearly overhead now and the cool, wet morning had become a sweltering mid-day as only spring days can do. Cerevin led them down a dark, shadowed alleyway and promised they were almost there.

"It will be a relief to be out of this smell," said Yargma in disgust. She had become accustomed to the smells of so many humans living so closely together, but she had never gotten over her distaste for the smell of fish, cooked or rotted. This smell was definitely that of the rotted variety.

Sarah nodded her agreement. Cerevin stopped in front of a ramshackle old building that had definitely seen better days. It was probably once very beautiful, but now the dead flowers in the planters, the inexpertly patched windows, and dire need of painting all spoke of better days.

Sarah looked dubiously at Cerevin. "This is the place?" she asked. Cerevin nodded. "I thought mages were highly trained, highly sought after men of the courts."

"Usually, they are," said Cerevin, but refused to elaborate.

Sarah shrugged and Yargma held her nose. "Whad ever," she said, "anyting to ged oud of dis smell."

Cerevin knocked on the door and the trio waited. After a pause and a flash of activity in the upper windows, they heard someone coming down the stairs to the front door. Another pause and then the door opened just a crack.

"Who are you and what do you want?" asked a gravely voice from inside.

"Good sir," said Cerevin, "we are adventurers about to embark on an historic journey to the north lands. We have come to request the honor of your presence on this journey and the use of your extensive magical knowledge to our aid."

The voice chuckled after a few moments and said, "ha, ha. Of course you are. Who sent you? Marvin? That witch Drizel? That's a very funny joke, but I've had too many at my expense of late, so I'll say good day."

The door started to close but Cerevin said quickly, "we can pay." The door paused. Cerevin continued, "we have need of a mage on our journey and your name was given to me by Fantosh in Eadorn. He said you might be sympathetic to our quest."

Sarah and Yargma exchanged glances. If they could not get a mage to accompany them, their cause was delayed again. Half of the traps in the Stronghold were said to be magical and none of them knew the first thing about magic. Cerevin smiled at the door in what he hoped was a reassuring and trustworthy manner.

"All right," said the voice in the door, reluctantly. "Come in." The door opened wider, but the speaker stood behind it, out of sight.

"Thank you, good sir," said Cerevin. He smiled at Sarah and Yargma and entered the house. They followed. It was dark, but not gloomy inside. A small sitting room held old, but well cared for furniture. What the house lacked in external repair, it made up for on the inside. The walls were clean and tastefully decorated. The carpets and stuffed furniture was threadbare in places, but there was no dust to be seen. The small lamps burned cleanly and pleasantly around the room. They took various seats around the sitting room and waited for the mage to join them.

He closed the door and stepped from the shadows to face them for the first time. His skin was thick, bumpy, and a grey-green color below a tuft of short black hair. His eyes were brown, but keen, and his wizard robe gave no doubt as to his occupation. Yargma raised an eyebrow and Sarah blinked in surprise. Neither of them was expecting to see an orc this far from their homeland. Cerevin just smiled, grateful for his companions' tempered reaction.

The mage sat down and said, "I am Krog. Who might you all be?" Cerevin introduced them and Krog nodded. "Now, tell me about this quest of yours and how much it pays."

Cerevin began telling his story. "No doubt you've heard of the Stronghold of king Meneg." Krog nodded. "Well, I believe that I have all the information necessary to get us to the Stronghold, and enough information about the traps to get us through to the treasure and out again. For the beasts, said to be many and varied, guarding the treasure, we have Yargma to lead us in their demise. For the physical traps, Sarah and I have skills in disarming such traps. But, for the magical traps, we are at a loss. That is where you come in, Krog. We have heard of your skill and not many with the skills required are willing to brave such a journey, but there are countless treasures in the Stronghold, more than we could spend in a lifetime."

Krog looked dubious. "And if there is no Stronghold and no treasure? What good is a promise of riches if I have to return here empty handed?"

Cerevin smiled. "Undoubtedly, you will require compensation for your time spent away from your studies and work here." Cerevin sounded completely sincere, even though it was obvious the mage was not making much of a living here in Dreardon. Krog straightened up in his chair, wanting to seem as sought after as Cerevin made him sound. "Shall we say five silver a day?"

Krog sat back in his chair. Smooth, Cerevin was too smooth and quick to compliment to be completely trustworthy, but three silver a day would go a long way towards keeping his belly full and his studies continuing. "And what are the risks? Clearly, going into the wilds with nothing but a barbarian, a thief, and woman is fraught with peril." He leaned forward in his seat. "Not to mention the kind of reception I'm likely to get in the backwaters of this great kingdom." His eyes were hard. "How do you propose to keep me safe during the journey? Three silver a day is of little value if I'm not alive to spend it."

Three years ago, Sarah would have tackled Krog and pummeled him until he admitted she was more capable than her gender implied. Now she merely balled her fist and waited for Cerevin to argue. He glanced her way to make sure that balling her fist was all she had planned and then said, "Sarah is an excellent fighter, more than equalling many men I have fought. It goes without saying that Yargma can hold her own in a battle. And, I'd like to think I am no slouch when it comes to sword play. That being said, I am also planning to employ the services of a healer, if one can be persuaded to come with us, from the town of Dor."

"As for the backwater towns on our journey," he said, gesturing at Sarah and then at himself, "we are human and will do the talking, if necessary." He tilted his head at Krog. "This is not the first time we have travelled through lands hostile to one of our party. I can assure you, you will be in no safer company than ours." He smiled, reassuringly.

Again, Krog sat back in his chair. If they really could keep him safe, this would be an excellent opportunity for some coin. "And, how long do you anticipate this journey taking?"

Cerevin's mouth twitched in a surpressed smile. He knew he had convinced Krog and now they were just haggling the specifics. "At least a fortnight, possibly longer."

Krog tapped his green hand against his cheek in thought. Yes, that would be a good infusion to his purse, even if there was no Stronghold. And if there was... no, he would not be taken in by the story, but the very real offer of coin for his time was worth it. He looked up at Cerevin, hoping he didn't sound to eager. "Very well, I accept."

Cerevin smiled broadly and nodded at Sarah and Yargma who also smiled, grateful this was going so smoothly. "Excellent!" said Cerevin. "We will leave as soon as you are able."

Krog was about to respond when there was a loud knock on the front door followed by a man's voice saying, "Dreardon city guard. Open the door."

"Expecting anyone?" whispered Krog to Cerevin. He moved quickly to uncover a hatch in the floor behind the couch where Yargma and Sarah sat. "Quickly, down the ladder, and stay silent until they are gone." With silent haste, Cerevin, Sarah, and Yargma descended the ladder and Krog replaced the trap door and carpet.

There was another loud bang on the door. "Open up, Krog, we're not here for you." Krog rolled his eyes and went to the front door, opening it just a crack. "Yes?" he said.

There were three city guards standing outside, trying to pretend they weren't bored. The man in front said, "uh, we've had some reports of thieves passing through this area, a barbarian and two humans, one male, one female. Have you seen them?"

Krog put on the most bitterness he could muster. "Why should I have? There's nothing here worth stealing, is there constable?"

The man in front shifted uncomfortably in his uniform. "Uh, no sir. Well, if you see them, keep your distance as they're quite dangerous, and report it as soon as possible."

Krog grunted and shut the door. The guard mumbled under his breath, "crazy bitter half-breed" and then said, "all right men, nothing here. Let's check the next one."

Krog waited until they had warned everyone on the block and disappeared around the corner before opening the trap door in the sitting room. "They're gone," said Krog. "Should I assume that 'as soon as I am able' was code for 'as soon as possible'?" Cerevin nodded. "Well then, perhaps you should stay down there until I can pack and we can be underway. Nightfall isn't for several more hours, but it will take me that long to pack what I need." The trap door shut without another word from Krog.

Sarah looked at Cerevin in the semi-darkness. "Several hours to pack? You'd think he was packing the whole house to bring with him."

"Patience," said Cerevin, "patience. Mages are a different breed entirely."

Several hours later, the sun was setting over Dreardon and the streets were beginning to quiet down as the vendors closed their shops and stalls. But it was difficult for Sarah, Yargma, and Cerevin to imagine the city as quiet at the moment. The sounds of singing, brawling, and general carrying-on from the sailor-friendly taverns on this street were all but deafening.

"Ugh," said Yargma, "first fish, now this racket. How does Krog put up with these things?"

"Mostly, I don't," said a voice from above them. The trap door opened and Krog gestured gracefully for them to come up into the sitting room. "I have plugs for my ears," he continued. "And when the noise is very bad, I can cast a spell of silence around myself."

They could see figures moving about on the street outside through the shuttered windows, some dancing, some staggering. Krog had packed a large, but manageable sized bag and belted a blanket to it. Cerevin looked at Sarah and Yargma and sighed. "If only you two were the betting type, I could have made some money tonight." Krog lifted an eyebrow.

Cerevin said, "I take it the racket outside is why it would take you 'several hours' to pack?"

Krog smiled. "Of course," he said. "You didn't think I was so naive as to pack more than I could carry, did you?" Sarah and Yargma tried to look innocent. Krog waived a hand and frowned. "It's okay, I'm used to being misjudged. Shall we be off?"

They gathered their bags and joined the fray on the street in front of Krog's house while he locked the door behind him. They picked their way through the crowd, avoiding the brawls and the couples making out. A group of dancers tried to draw them into the procession, but they slipped away with feigned drunken excuses. After a few minutes, they were clear of the party and used the last minutes of twilight to slip past the city guards and out of town.

The walked for several hours until they were comfortably outside the city before camping for the night. They built a small fire and Yargma hunted some rabbits for them to eat. They didn't talk much before going to sleep and the night passed uneventfully. In the pre-dawn light, Yargma gathered her pack and began jogging northward along the road, combining her exercise with some scouting of the route ahead. As the sun dawned, the others began to stir.

Sarah poked the fire to a little more life to shake the night's chill from her. She cursed herself for getting so soft these last three years. Krog sat up and looked around the small campsite.

"Your friend," he said, "she's gone."

"Yes," said Sarah, "she often goes for a run in the morning, and she knows the route we plan to take to Dor, so she is likely scouting the road for us."

"Ah," said Krog. "It's good to have such a strong, trustworthy friend, then."

Sarah smiled. "Yes, it is."

Krog came closer to the fire and seemed delighted when Sarah didn't recoil from his approach. "Tell me," he said, "how is it you came to know your tall friend, Yargma, I think her name was."

Sarah nodded. "It's a long story how we came to be here, but I came to know Yargma because I was there when she was born."

Krog lifted both eyebrows. "Indeed. So, you were Taken, I think the phrase is?"

"Yes, that's what most chose to call it," Sarah said. "I assume barbarians take people from this kingdom as they did from mine."

"Yes," said Krog, "they do." He examined Sarah for any sign of deceit, for once people are Taken, they rarely live to talk about it, let alone continue to travel with one that took them.

"What about you?" asked Sarah. "How did you come to be in Dreardon? I didn't think there were orcs on this continent."

Krog was surprised by her candor and her tone, not judgmental, just curious. "My father brought me to Dreardon when I was still a child. He left when I was five to go back to his beloved ocean." Krog mostly kept the bitterness out of his voice. He almost never told his story to anyone because most people were not interested in hearing it. And, he had long ago forgiven his father for leaving again. He was a man of the sea. And besides, his presence would not have saved Krog from the troubles the humans gave him in his youth.

Sarah nodded. "It couldn't have been easy," she said, "growing up surrounded by those of a different race, always aware of your differences."

Krog looked at Sarah and smiled faintly. "You tell me." Sarah started to explain that there were lots of other humans in the barbarian camps, but Cerevin was fully awake now and eager to be on his way.

"So glad you two are bonding," he said brusquely, but with a twinkle in his eye. "Shall we be off before we waste too much daylight?"

They scattered the remains of the fire and headed north along the road. After about a half an hour, Yargma came trotting down the path to meet them. "The road forks a bit further up, the eastern branch I think said 'Dor' on the sign."

Krog turned to Sarah, "can she not read?" he asked. Yargma heard him and straightened up to her full height. "I am learning," she said. Sarah said, "and I'm not much better, sadly. Cerevin is a good teacher and he knows the human scripts."

Krog nodded. He could not conceive of living without being able to read, but he knew that many did people did so. "Interesting," he said quietly.

Cerevin said, "we'll take the road to Dor, when we come to it. It shouldn't take us too far out of our way, and it's important that we try to get a healer to join us. I don't fancy our odds of survival if we try to take the Stronghold without one."

They walked along for a while until they reached the fork in the road that Yargma had told them about. Cerevin helped Yargma sound out the name of of the city for the other fork in the road before they headed east, towards Dor. The stopped around noon for a small meal before striking out again. By late afternoon, they could see the town of Dor ahead of them and the large monestary on the hillside, just outside of town. There were no city guards immediately obvious, so they went into the city, following Cerevin's lead.

The town was quiet, but not deserted a this time of day as shops were closing down. Cerevin asked around and then led them to a small inn near the edge of town closest to the monestary called The Pig's Tail. The sound of hogs from behind the inn left no doubt about the origin of the name. They entered, as Cerevin had instructed them, he and Yargma first, Krog and Sarah a few minutes later. When Sarah entered the inn's common room, she knew why Cerevin had split them up. The few other guests in the inn were stirred up talking about the strange couple that had just come in, so Sarah and Krog's entrance went almost unnoticed.

They got rooms for the night, and took their meals to their rooms to eat. When they were sure no one was watching, Krog and Sarah slipped into Cerevin's room.

"That was good thinking, Cerevin," said Sarah, "having us come in later."

"Yes," said Cerevin, "I think it would have made too much of a stir for us to all come in at once." He looked between Sarah and Yargma. "If there's one thing I've learned traveling with you two, it's that our entrance seldom goes unnoticed."

"That's hardly my fault," said Sarah in mock protest. "I'm not the one who's eight feet tall!"

Yargma playfully threw the remains of her pork chop at Sarah. "Hey! I am not even seven feet tall, human."

"Hardly your fault," said Cerevin. "Then what about that time in Holdon? I'm pretty sure that innkeeper would beg to differ."

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, giving up. "That lecherous old fool had it coming."

Krog tried to bring them back to the topic at hand. "So, about this healer. How do we find one willing to join us?"

"My sources tell me," said Cerevin, " that the monestary usually has one or two healers that can be hired for extended journeys such as ours. They use it to train their newest members. Usually they are hired away to join traders or merchants on long journeys, or very occasionally to join rangers or trapping parties into the great forest."

Sarah and Yargma seemed uninterested in Cerevin's explanation, but Krog furrowed his brow. "Then, how are we going to get one to go with us, even if there is one available for hire? We're not exactly on a mission of goodwill or even business."

"Simple," said Cerevin, "I'm not going to tell them where we're going."

"You would lie," said Yargma with disgust. She knew that Cerevin lied and had grown accustomed to it, but she still disliked it.

"Of course," said Cerevin. "It's not as if our purpose is evil, it's just not as... pedestrian as they usually get."

"And, if we can't get a healer here?" asked Krog. "Then what?"

Cerevin shrugged. "Then we will continue northward and find one somewhere else."

Krog looked dubious, but Cerevin just smiled at him. Sarah said to Krog, "don't be fooled by his self-assurance. Things don't always turn out as Cerevin plans them."

The next morning, they left The Pig's Tail as they had come in, two by two, and walked the short distance to the monestary's front gate. They knocked on the heavy wooden door and a small window slid open. Cerevin explained what he had come looking for and the door opened slightly. "Just you," said a voice from behind the door, "not them." Cerevin nodded and disappeared behind the door. It closed with a heavy thud. Outside the gate, Sarah, Yargma, and Krog waited with varying degrees of patience for Cerevin to return.

Just before noon, the gate opened again and Cerevin stumbled out onto the road, as if he had been pushed. The gate closed with a thud as Cerevin brushed himself off, looking annoyed. "It seems there are no healers for hire at the moment," he said. "I guess we should be off, then."

They headed north from Dor, passed farms and patches of trees. The hills were gentle and rolling, just starting to turn from bright spring green into true green. Sarah was enjoying the walk. They had spent so much of the last few weeks in cities and on ships that to be out in the open again felt like a homecoming. Yargma looked happier than Sarah had seen her in months. Even the open spaces of the Eadorn sea kingdom were too foreign to be comforting to the big barbarian.

Krog, on the other hand, was not having an easy time of things. His daily life had never included so much walking. Cerevin noticed his pained gait and said, "that little stand of trees up there looks like a good place to stop for the night."

"Why?" asked Yargma, "it is early yet. We can make many more miles before it is too dark to see."

"Yes," said Cerevin, "we could. But I'd like to stop for the night."

Yargma shrugged. "Fine. I will go hunt some supper while you build the fire." She trotted off towards the trees, covering the distance more quickly than many men can sprint.

They walked towards the trees in silence for a minute or so and then Krog said, "thank you." They found a spot in the grove of trees that was sheltered and built a small fire. Krog took off his shoes and massaged his feet until Yargma returned with dinner. After they ate, Krog pulled out a large leather bound book and began reading.

Sarah watched him for a few minutes and then said, "how did you come to be a mage?"

"Study," said Krog, "and some luck. I worked as a servant for a mage in Dreardon. He was blind, so he didn't realize I was a... well, he didn't realize I was different. When I asked him questions about his work, he would answer honestly and eventually he began to teach me how to do magic."

Krog looked over at Cerevin. "What about you? How did you come to be..."

"A thief?" finished Cerevin with a half-smile. "Family tradition." What he didn't say was that family tradition was to stay closer to cities and to specialize rather than galavanting off into the wilds like his uncle. By way of changing the subject, he said, "tomorrow I'd like to make it to Varl, if at all possible. It's a sizable town and may have a healer willing to join us."

"Why not get a witch?" said Yargma.

Without looking up from his book, Krog said, "witches aren't healers. That's just another name for mages."

"Not that kind of witch," said Yargma.

"You mean a country witch," said Cerevin, bridging the language gap for Krog. "A woman, usually a widow, who knows a little magic, a little healing, and so forth." Yargma nodded. "That's not a bad idea," agreed Cerevin. "They would certainly be more willing to come with us."

The next morning dawned grey and a little wet. They set out for Varl at a reasonable pace, but pausing more frequently to give Krog's feet a chance to rest. By noon the mist of morning had turned into a drizzling rain, making Cerevin unusually cranky. Whenever they stopped, he stood moodily apart from the others, staring off into something only he could see and scowling. The others exchanged worried glances but said nothing, figuring it was better to let him work it out on his own.

After the sun had set, they finally reached the town of Varl. Again, Cerevin took the lead in getting an inn for them. The few people out at this time of day were darting between buildings to avoid getting wet in the persistent rain. They left the cobble stones of the main streets and followed a few narrow, dirt streets to the inn. The inn probably had a name, but the sign was unreadable in the darkness. Cerevin was so annoyed by something that when Sarah and Krog stayed a few paces behind to enter separately, he said, "oh, forget it, just come in with us. Varl isn't as backwater as Dor was."

Sarah and Krog exchanged glances and Yargma shrugged. They followed Cerevin into the inn. The common room was only slightly bigger than the room at The Stuffed Chicken. The construction was about the same, smoke stained wood and plaster, well-used wooden furniture, a large fireplace with a pleasant fire, and a few groups of men talking quietly amongst themselves. Several of them turned when the door opened and paused only briefly upon seeing Yargma, then they turned back to their beers and dinners before Krog had even come through the door.

Cerevin walked to a table in the back, but Sarah tugged his sleeve and pointed at one closer to the fire. Cerevin nodded and left them to go find the innkeeper. They settled in around the table, enjoying the warmth from the fire and finally being out of the rain.

"Is he usually like this in the rain?" asked Krog, as quietly as he could.

"No," said Sarah, "he's usually quite good natured, even when things are going wrong."

"Quite good natured," said Yargma. "It can be annoying at times." She pulled up the side of her shirt to show off a small scar, one of many, on her side, just below the ribs. "See this?" Krog nodded and she let her shirt down. "A kobold shot me with a crossbow. Cerevin just laughed."

Krog said, "then I wonder what could have rattled him so much."

The door to the common room opened again from the outside and a lone traveller with a large brimmed hat entered, shaking the rain off. He walked to the fire and began warming himself with obvious pleasure. Sarah turned back to her companions and said, "I don't know. Maybe something happened in the monestary in Dor."

Krog said, "clearly something happened, but it's almost impossible to say whether it would have caused this reaction without knowing what it was."

Yargma nodded. "Too bad we do not have any Eadorn wines," she said. "Those always seemed to cheer him up."

Cerevin returned to the table and sat down. "We have rooms for the night. The innkeeper suggested a few places outside of town where we might find country witches in the morning." The rest of the table nodded. The serving girl came by and they ordered drinks and dinner. Sarah was grateful that the chicken actually looked like chicken at this inn, even if it was fairly tough.

After dinner, they sat around the table and talked. Inevitably the conversation turned to their plans. Krog said, "how far are we from the great forest?"

The man with the large hat paused in his eating, but said nothing. Cerevin said, "about three days. There's one town actually in the edge of the great forest. That'll be our last chance to buy supplies."

"And from there? You have a map?"

Cerevin shifted in his seat. "Yes, I do. And we have two natives of the wastelands to help guide us once we get there."

Sarah started to interrupt to say that the part of the wastelands they were going to was miles from where she and Yargma lived for so many years. But, the man with the large hat said, "it's not just the wastelands you need to be concerned about. The great forest all looks the same at times and it's easy to become lost."

They turned to the man in the hat. He smiled at them, showing a missing tooth. His clothes that looked like normal cloth from a distance were deerskin and rabbit, sewn carefully together, and his skin matched the wrinkles and weather beaten look of Sarah's. The few streaks of gray in his hair made him look a lot older than Sarah's age of twenty-eight.

"True," said Cerevin. "And might I ask who you are to be eavesdropping on our conversation?" Cerevin bristled a little, perhaps more upset with himself that he had been so loose with his words.

The man broadened his smile and made a placating gesture. "Peace, friend," he said, "I'm just trying to do a good deed and warn some travelers of the dangers of the great forest. It's not everyday I hear about folks going into the forest on purpose." He sat back in his chair, as if he was recalling good times for a retelling. "No sir, I don't believe I've heard of anyone going into the forest in well over seven years now. Last bunch that went in there, why, they were all sure of themselves, had a map, lackeys, mules, you name it. But, as always happens, they went in and never came back out again."

Cerevin scowled and Sarah raised an eyebrow at the man's story. Yargma said, "then they were fools. Anyone who gets lost in a few trees deserves to die a dishonorable death." It was Krog's turn to raise an eyebrow in surprise.

The old man's smile lessened slightly and he said, "well, alright then, if that's how you feel about it. I just thought you should know what kind of danger you're up against." He picked up his chicken leg. "If you change your mind, I know those parts pretty well, and I'd be happy to guide you through to your destination."

Cerevin said, "thank you, but no. I think we can find our own way."

The old man nodded. "Alright then. Well, my name is Feldas Nik, most people just call me Nik. I'll be around here for a couple of days on some business. If you change your mind, just ask around for me." He tipped his hat to the table and went back to eating his supper.

Cerevin flagged down the serving girl and ordered a bottle of wine. When she returned with it, he said, "I'll be in the room" and took the bottle with him. Yargma, Sarah, and Krog talked for another hour or so until they figured Cerevin would have fallen asleep, then they headed up to bed themselves.

Nik serreptitiously watched them go. There would be other opportunities to convince them to take him along. Yes, they must be made to see how much they needed a ranger to guide them. Or else they might never make it to the Stronghold alive.

The next morning, after breakfast, Cerevin led the way to some of the country witches the innkeeper had mentioned. The witches that were willing to go were not young enough to make the trip. And those that were able to make the journey were suspicious enough not to trust the strange party.

So, a little after mid-day, Cerevin decided that it was time to leave Varl and continue northward. At least the day was blissfully dry. The roads were still wet from yesterday's rain, but the air was dry and starting to get warm.

Just before dusk, they entered a part of the road that was shaded by trees, chilling them and making it much darker very suddenly. Cerevin slowed their pace and put his hand on his sword. Whether Yargma felt it too or whether she was reacting to Cerevin, Sarah couldn't tell, but Yargma also reached for her sword. Sarah turned to say something to Krog, who was walking a few paces behind her, when she saw movement from the trees behind Krog.

Her instincts kicked in and Sarah shouted "down!" to Krog and half-pulled, half-tackled him to the ground, out of the way. The motion flew over their heads and cursed, landing gracelessly on another man coming from the other side of the road.

She got to her feet in a bull-charge into the man's back, catching him as he was still landing and the three of them went down. The man on the bottom let out a pained "oof!" and Sarah drew her dagger, but she wasn't fast enough. The man in the middle twisted himself, rolling him and Sarah off and elbowing Sarah in the head as he went. Sarah's dagger came down, but just caught the man's shirt.

Cerevin drew his sword on Sarah's shout, but did not turn around. His eyes darted around the darkening trees, looking for movement. He saw it just a little too late, a man in dark clothes flew towards him, foot extended and aimed at his chest. Cerevin turned away from the blow and it just caught the edge of him, spinning him to his right. Cerevin's left hand came up with his dagger and caught the edge of his assailant before he slipped away to regain his balance.

The man brought his sword down with a slashing motion. His sword was heavier than Cerevin's, but it was no match for Yargma's great sword. She deflected the sword with a flick of her wrists and pushed the man away with her foot. He staggered backwards from the force, but kept his balance.

From the corner of his eye, Cerevin saw a fourth man driving his sword towards Yargma's undefended back. Cerevin turned, gracefully, and extended his sword arm alongside the attacker's, pushing it out of the way and missing Yargma's back. Then Cerevin whipped his left hand down and sunk his dagger's blade into the man's gut. He howled in pain and brought his sword back in a slashing motion across his chest, but Cerevin had already spun away, out of his reach.

Sarah drew her dagger back for another attack when a hand grabbed her hair, pulling her head back painfully. She stabbed again, this time connecting with a glancing blow on the man's leg. He grunted in pain and pushed Sarah away with his foot. She tumbled back into Krog who was now standing and concentrating. One of the men realized what Krog was doing and lunged at him, but Sarah rolled forward, taking the man's feet out from under him. They were struggling for control of the dagger when Krog's spell was finished.

Krog said nothing, but he fixed his eyes on their first attacker, now on his feet. A ball of fire burst into existence above Krog's hand, filling the area with sudden light. Still concentrating, he pushed his hand forward and released the fireball. Before he could draw in a gasp, the man was thrown backwards with the force of the spell, his clothes and skin burning from the heat. He let out a strangled cry, but he was dead before he hit the ground.

Yargma let her attacker swing at her, again and again, toying with him, as she easily parried each of his attacks. Her face held a small, pleased smile, which only enraged her attacker more. As they moved around the road, the flash of light from Krog's fireball lit up the trees around them. Yargma saw at least three more figures in the trees, moving slowly towards the battle. Her smile split into an insane grin and she let forth a deep-chested battle cry that was the subject of many scary stories among humans. The cry made her attacker pause, for just a second, which was more than Yargma needed. She swung the sword around with her forearms and neatly took off the man's head. There was a gasp from the trees and Yargma looked into the darkness for the next victim.

Cerevin and his attacker dodged and parried around, neither really gaining the upper hand. That is, until Yargma's battle cry went up. The man flinched back from the sound and Cerevin lunged forward, slicing the man's upper arm and shoulder with his blade. He grunted and punched at Cerevin's head, landing it with a thump. Cerevin recovered his balance just in time to be tackled from behind by another attacker from the trees.

Sarah and her attacker fought for control of the dagger, biting, punching, and scratching. Another man kicked Sarah in the small of the back and wrapped his arm around her throat, pulling her to her feet. She picked her feet up and kicked backwards at her attacker with all her might, connecting with something. His grip loosened slightly, but not enough. His hand cuffed Sarah upside the head sending streaks of white through her vision.

Krog was concentrating again, but motion behind him made Sarah point and croak a warning. It was too late. A sword knocked Krog's hand down, breaking his concentration and cutting into his skin. Rather than try to hold a half-orc bodily, the men just held Krog at sword point from several different directions. He looked at Sarah with concern in his eyes. This was exactly the kind of danger he was worried about.

Yargma had dispatched three other men by the time a voice called for her to stop. "That's enough," the voice said. "We have your friends, so spare their lives and put the sword down." Yargma turned around to see Cerevin pinned to the ground, Sarah turning red, and Krog hoping desperately not to become a pin cushion.

Cerevin said, "don't do it, Yarg-" but he was cut off by a fist in his gut forcing the air out of him.

A man stepped from the shadows, dressed in dark, patched leather, not unlike Cerevin's own clothes. He had a full beard and moustache, touched with grey. "Now, now," he said, "don't be like that. We don't want your lives, just your purses and any other valuables you might be carrying." Men were already rifling through their hastily discarded packs, but coming up empty.

The robbers shook their heads at the bearded man and he motioned at the captives. Hands started searching Sarah's clothes for her purse and she renewed her struggling, this time landing a solid blow to her captor's knee. He cried out and loosed his arm enough for Sarah to wriggle free and elbow the man in his crotch. His legs went together and his hands instinctively went to protect himself.

Sarah lunged forward toward one of the men holding down Cerevin, but her gut met with a foot instead. The force knocked her to her knees, gasping for breath, as two men grabbed her, one on each side. The man with the wounded pride, breathed, "you little bitch!"

"Now, now," said the bearded man. "There's no need to be impolite." He motioned again that his men should search them for their coin, but they were understandably hesitant.

The man sighed in frustration. "Must I do everything myself?" He stepped toward Cerevin, but stopped when an arrow crossed his path and stabbed into the ground beside him.

Yargma looked up, her sword still half-ready, to see who had fired the shot. From the darkness, a figure with a wide brimmed hat stepped out. He said, "'no need to be impolite'? And yet, here you are, trying to take some good honest folks for all they're worth." The men looked back and forth at each other in confusion, tinged with fear.

The bearded man looked up and scowled. "Begone, demon," he said, "you have nothing I want."

"Is that right," Nik drawled. "Well, you do have something I want. How's about you let them go, and we forget this ever happened. Deal?"

The bearded man looked around at his men. This had already been a deadly ambush, but while he knew his own limitations on hurting his prey, he feared what this party might do to him and his men if the tables were turned. There was no way he was walking into that predicament willingly. His men looked imploringly at him. Some had vengence and rage in their eyes, wanting to kill the whole party, demon included, and get it over with. Others looked afraid, like they were wishing they had chosen some other group of travelers to rob. The bearded man shook his head. "Not a chance," he said.

Yargma raised her sword and lunged at the man nearest her who was holding down Cerevin. Her sword impaled him, splattering the area with his blood. She withdrew the sword as quickly as she had inserted it and turned it on the bearded man. He hopped back quickly from her deadly blade and paled with the ferocity of her attack. "Kill them!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Kill them all!"

Two of the men holding swords on Krog turned them on Nik who laughed with a little too much glee at the bloodshed. He dropped his bow and pulled two very short swords from his belt. They were too long to be daggers, but too short to be a proper short sword. He wielded them in a mesmerizing, but deadly, flash of blades, his arms moving fluidly and easily. The two men came at him from opposite sides, hoping to get an easy shot in the back, but the short blades seem to parry every lunge they made and avoid every slash.

Krog knew he was outclassed physically and he didn't have time to prepare another spell, so he used his dubious birth-right to his advantage. He tried to look as insane as possible and hunched his shoulders forward, matching the common depiction of orcs in this kingdom. He curled his fingers, as if getting ready for a spell and laughed a deep, gravely laugh from his chest. While not as terrifying as Yargma's battle cry, the sudden shift in his demeanor was unsettling to the robbers.

One of them looked from Krog to Nik and back, then he turned and ran down the darkening road as fast as humanly possible. Krog laughed and turned his attention to the other man who scowled and stabbed forward at Krog's midsection, cutting a hole in his robe, but nothing else. Krog started really preparing a spell this time, hoping he could dodge that blade until it was ready. He didn't have time to do another deadly fireball, but he was hoping the memory from that fireball was still fresh.

He pointed to the charred body that was still smoldering on the side of the road while keeping his eyes fixed on his attacker. "I hope you are more fire-proof than your friend," he said in the darkest voice he could muster. The man's eyes flicked to his fallen companion and Krog laughed again. He slashed his sword at Krog's hand, but Krog had expected that and pulled it away easily. "Now," said Krog, eyes gleaming, "time to die, human." He pushed his hand forward and a tiny fireball about the size of a walnut flew forward and into the man's chest. He stumbled backwards, tangling his feet with one of the men holding Sarah and they went down.

After the bearded man's desperate cry to kill them, one of the two men holding Sarah reached for his sword. In his distraction, Sarah slithered her wrist out of his grasp and pulled her other arm to her mouth. She bit the other man's hand as hard as possible, drawing blood. She kicked to the side and connected with the man's shin, which made him curse, but didn't loosen his grip. "Dammit, Julian," he said through gritted teeth, "kill this bitch already!"

The man who had let go to get his sword stabbed forward at Sarah's exposed back, but she dropped to ground, pulling the other man with her. Julian tried to stop mid-lunge, but it was too late. His blade sliced along their intertwined forearms and just grazed the other robber's side. Sarah then launched herself from a crouch upwards with as much force as she could muster. She caught Julian's exposed belly with her head and shoulder and he gave an "oof" as the air was pushed from his lungs. Julian stumbled to the side, trying to keep his feet under him. There was a flash of fireball from Krog and the man holding Sarah's arm went tumbling to the ground, tangled up in another robber, pulling Sarah down with them.

Cerevin kicked the man that Yargma had impaled off of him and rolled to his knees beside the other man who had been holding him down. He looked in shock at the blood gushing from his companion's gaping chest wound. Cerevin elbowed the man in the head then put his knee in the man's back. He grunted in pain and started scrambling to get away, eyes wide with fear. Cerevin stood up with him and gave him a parting kick in the pants as he shoved him away from the road. The man stumbled backwards for a few paces then turned and took off into the trees.

The bearded man was a good swordsman and he held his own against Yargma for a while. She was fast and fierce, but the bearded man knew this road and he was having better luck seeing in the near darkness. A flash of light lit up behind him and temporarily blinded Yargma. She blinked and paused in her pursuit of the bearded man. He took the opening to step forward and slash at her hands, hoping to loosen her grip on the sword. She growled at the pain and put her foot in the bearded man's chest, pushing him away from her. He stumbled backwards and met Julian, also stumbling. They exchanged glances and ran down the road, away from this disaster.

Yargma and Cerevin turned their attention to the men tangled up with Sarah. The one had a hole burned in his shirt and skin from Krog's tiny fireball. He grasped at his chest, making sure he was still alive. Realizing how little damage the flashy fire had done, he scowled and yelled, "powerless half-breed!" He got to his feet and started towards Krog, but Cerevin put a sword in his path.

"Ah, ah," said Cerevin. "That's not polite. Besides, I think you were just leaving." Yargma held her sword at the man beside Sarah on the ground and growled, "get up and go with your friend or you will not live to regret it." He looked from the sword to his friend and they scurried away into the trees.

Nik moved towards them, smiling. "And I've taken care of my two. I dare say those boys won't likely be bothering anyone again any time soon." He looked pleased with himself and the outcome. "Lucky for you I happened to be traveling this road myself on my way northward."

Sarah stood up, brushing herself off and reassembling her pack. "I thought you said you had several days worth of business in Vorl."

A shadow crossed Nik's face, but then he smiled more broadly and said, "lucky all around today. My business was finished sooner than expected."

Cerevin studied him for a moment and decided he was probably lying, but that he did have a point. Had he not come along, they would have been hard pressed to continue their journey penniless. "Yes, good luck, then," he said to Nik. Cerevin looked around to make sure everyone was alive and well. Aside from a few light gashes on their hands and forearms, Sarah, Yargma, and Krog were just fine. Nik had not a scratch on him. Cerevin supressed his surprise and busied himself picking up his pack and weapons.

When they had collected their things, Cerevin said, "I think it's best if we move on as far as possible tonight in case anyone comes looking for those men."

"Agreed," said Yargma.

Sarah looked around to the four corpses on the ground and said, "we should move the bodies out of the road, so they're less obvious." Cerevin nodded and they began clearing the road. Krog held one of the severed heads distastefully and at arms length. "Ugh, this is revolting."

"Come on Krog," said Sarah, "be an orc! You're supposed to revel in the dismemberment of humans." He looked at her dubiously and dropped the head beyond a little hill where the other bodies were laid. "I think I might be sick," he said.

Without further ceremony, they headed north along the road.

By the next afternoon, they were nearing the town of Elm, still a day and a half from the great forest. As they approached the edge of town, they noticed a sign declaring a bounty on all non-human races, payable in the town hall. They slowed to a stop.

"Well," said Cerevin, "that's not good." He turned. "You're not hoping to collect on that bounty, are you Nik?"

Nik chuckled. "No sir," he said. "I want to see you safe and sound through the dangers of the great forest so you can meet your death in the wastelands like any good ranger would do."

Cerevin studied him for a moment and then nodded. Sarah said, "what are we going to do? We need some supplies, but I don't think we'll be getting a room in the inn tonight."

"Forget it," said Cerevin. "Let's find a safe spot outside of town to camp tonight and you and I can go into town alone." Sarah nodded.

They left the road and headed west into the trees. After half an hour of walking, they found a small rocky outcropping, well sheltered and hidden from view. They left Yargma, Krog, and Nik with instructions not to leave or make a fire until after dark. Cerevin said in barbarian, "watch the human. I do not trust him." Yargma nodded.

Sarah and Cerevin walked back towards the road and the town of Elm. Sarah had wrapped the gash on her forearm with a scrap of fabric. When she scratched at it, Cerevin cursed. "This is why I wanted a healer," he said, mostly under his breath. "I'm fine," said Sarah, "it's barely more than a scratch. Besides, we fought all those bandits on the islands of Krevig without a healer and lived."

A smile crossed Cerevin's face, but it was short lived. "I suppose," he said. Sarah studied him. They had never been close, but she trusted Cerevin with her life.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You've been moody since the monestary in Dor. What happened in there?"

Cerevin pursed his lips and Sarah expected him to deflect the question. Instead he sighed and said, "waiting, mostly." Sarah raised her eyebrows at him. "Well," he continued, "and they told me that the map I have is a sham, that the monks who sold it to me are con artists."

Sarah was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I thought you were going to lie to them about where we were going and why."

Cerevin laughed. "I did, and quite convincingly, I thought. I had a full backstory for why we were coming through town, where we were going, what we were carrying, even who we were working for."

"And they didn't believe you?"

"I never got to tell the story. After waiting for several hours, I was admitted to an office with a monk sitting behind a desk, surrounded by papers. He took one look at me and said, 'you. I know you. I have nothing for your fool's quest, Cerevin Ges.'"

"He knew your name?"

"Yes," said Cerevin, "and I didn't give it to anyone there."

"How odd."

"To say the least."

"So, what did you say to that?"

Cerevin laughed. "Well, I tried to play it off like he had the wrong man, tried to explain the backstory I had made up, but he interrupted me. He said, 'what you think you have is rubbish. Strange that one who lies for a living could not see it in others.' Then he signaled for one of the monks to take me back to the gate and said, 'take your misfit horde and begone, thief, I have no time for you.' I protested, but some of those monks are quite persuasive when they need to be."

Sarah nodded and they walked in silence for a few minutes. "Could he have been lying to protect the stronghold's location?"

Cerevin nodded. "I thought of that and it is possible," he said. "It seems unlikely, but I'm not ruling anything out at this point."

They reached the town of Elm as carts carrying the first produce of spring rolled slowly up the road. There were carts with lambs for the slaughter, chickens for market, and farmers with tools that needed mending. Sarah and Cerevin blended in well enough. They didn't look like farmers, but they could pass as trappers just coming in for supplies.

As they were passing the well in the center of town, they heard a bang and a cracking wood sound. They turned around in time to see a cart carrying sheep send its wooly load bleating onto the cobbled stone road in front of the cart. The cart had cracked a wheel and had tipped forward, freeing the animals. The young man who had been driving the cart stared in horror as his family's livelihood pranced away from the cart.

Sarah and Cerevin joined the impromptu shepherd ring that was fencing in the sheep. The young man's father appeared from somewhere and started berating the boy. "You stupid half-wit! I told you to fix that wheel last month."

"I-I did," said the young man, shaking in fear of reprisal.

"Go prop up the corner with something so we can get the sheep back in there." The boy rushed to comply, grateful to be away from his father's glare.

The temporary shepherds closed in, guiding the sheep back into the hastily repaired cart before turning back to their own business. Sarah and Cerevin turned to be on their way when they heard the boy say, "thank you." Cerevin nodded at him and they walked away towards the town's inn, The Painted Pumpkin.

The inn was stocked well enough to fill their wine skins. While they waited, Cerevin and Sarah eyed the orc and barbarian heads stuffed and mounted on the walls alongside those of elk and bear. When the innkeeper returned, Cerevin nodded at the heads and said, "have much trouble with those types around here?"

"Barbarians, yes," he said. "They usually come down in the fall. Last year we were lucky enough to miss them. The orc head is just for show. Bought it off a guy from Deardon for a really good price. Just adds to the decor, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," said Cerevin.

"But, the next time the barbarians come down, we'll be ready to fight," said the innkeeper.

"Oh?"

"Same guy from Deardon taught me a phrase in barbarian that's supposed to drain the will to fight right out of them. He said it was invoking their god or something. You want to hear it?"

"Sure," said Cerevin.

"Yag kron drog dya!" said the innkeeper in his best barbarian impression.

It was all Cerevin and Sarah could do to keep from smiling. My chicken is on fire. The innkeeper beamed at them. Cerevin said, "uh, yes, I do think that will do the trick. Thank you for the wine, sir."

They opened the door of the inn and Sarah smashed headlong into the young man from the sheep cart. He stumbled back a step and started apologizing profusely without looking up.

"It's alright," said Sarah. They started out the door again and the young man said, "that will heal better if you-"

"Simon!" shouted the boy's father. "What are you doing? Go and ask about the stable like I told you to!"

Sarah looked down and saw that the cut on her arm had started bleeding again, probably from her collision with the boy. She put her other hand on it and looked at Simon. "Thank you," she said, "I think I'll manage." The boy looked down and squirmed past them into the inn.

Cerevin and Sarah collected the rest of the supplies they needed and headed out of town as the sun was starting to set. By the time they reached the camp with the others, it was dark. Yargma had caught them some rabbits to eat and they enjoyed some of the wine from town. Cerevin recounted the conversation in the inn and had Yargma in hysterics. "Chicken," she giggled in her low voice, "really? That would make me pause only because the speaker must be not right in the head." She laughed.

They finished the meal and were soon drifting into sleep. The day had been sunny, but the ground was still holding onto the damp of spring and smelled like rotting leaves and dried pine needles. Sarah watched her companions as they watched the fire. No matter where she went in the world, people always watched the fire burn. Something about it was comforting and familiar, drawing people in to its subtly changing patterns. Some cultures she had encountered in the islands believed that fires were their own life form, not just their own element. They saw spirits and life in the fire, revered it, and made sacrifices to it. To them a candle flame was a trapped spirit, far away from its home in a log set aflame.

As Sarah watched the fire, herself drifting into sleep, she heard something move in the trees above their hiding place. She froze, fully awake now, and waited for it to move again. An animal would avoid them unless it intended to attack, and in either case, it would position itself before its next move. Sarah listened for the next movement and heard it. It sounded like someone tripping over a log and catching themselves. It was not unheard of for wild animals to trip. Several times Sarah had seen wolves in the wastelands stumble on a misplaced rock before a barbarian youth took its head off. But this didn't sound like a wild animal.

Sarah looked over the fire towards where Cerevin lay and she was certain that he was now awake as well. There was another movement, this time closer to Cerevin as the creature moved down the small hill beside the rocky outcropping. Sarah strained her ears to listen for any other movement in the forest. She could think of no reason why a single human be here. If the existence of a barbarian and half-orc had angered the townsfolks, they would have come in vast numbers, carrying pitchforks and torches. That much she knew from experience.

Another sound and finally Sarah could make out the shape moving in the trees. It looked like a very small human. Sarah sat up to call out to the boy, but Yargma having just woken to the sound jumped to her feet and threatened the shape with a low growl. The figure froze and Cerevin said, "Simon?"

Sarah put a log onto the fire to provide more light and when the sparks went up from the fire, Simon tried to retreat in surprise but he stumbled over a tree branch and fell on his behind. Yargma looked down at the terrified boy and laughed at her own overreaction. "If he says anything about chickens," she said, "I may die of amusement."

Cerevin stood up and picked up the boy, setting him on his feet. He was about four and a half feet tall with fairly long blonde hair that fell into his eyes when he looked down, which he did with alarming regularity. "There," said Cerevin. "Don't worry about our large friend here, she's harmless." Simon's eyes went wide as he took in Yargma's height and build and realized what she was.

"B-but... I-I..." he stuttered.

"What's going on?" asked Krog sleepily.

Nik said, "some young boy seems to have wandered away from home." He looked suspiciously at Cerevin and Sarah. "Or, young Cerevin and miss Sarah here were followed from town."

Cerevin looked kindly at Simon and said, "is that true, Simon? Are you lost?" He shook his head, looking at his feet. "Did you follow us?" He paused and then nodded.

"Please don't be mad," he said quickly and shied away from Cerevin as if expecting to be hit. "I just wanted to make sure your bandage was okay."

Cerevin and Sarah exchanged glances and shook their heads. Cerevin said, "why don't you come sit by the fire and tell us the real reason you're here, Simon." Cerevin led him to the fire's edge and gently pushed on his shoulders until Simon sat down on Cerevin's sleeping blanket. Then Cerevin, Sarah, and Yargma sat down. Krog propped himself up on his elbow to listen and Nik sat up, looking over his shoulder occasionally.

"Now," said Cerevin. "Tell us the truth."

"I-I came to see if you'd take me with you," he said. "You're travelers and you probably go lots of interesting places. I'm last born and not very smart, so father says I'll never marry or do anything with my life. But, I want to see what's out there. I don't want to be a shepherd my whole life, even if that means I end up a beggar in a big city. At least I won't be here." He paused and then said, "and I really did want to make sure your bandage was okay. I'm good at wrapping stuff like that. I fall down a lot and have had lots of bad cuts. The old witch lady was teaching me how to do the bandages myself so I wouldn't keep bothering her when I hurt myself."

Cerevin looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. "There," he said, just a little too smugly, "I told you we'd find a healer."

"Simon," said Sarah, "do you know where we're going?"

He shook his head and said, "and I don't care, as long as it's far away from here."

Sarah sighed. "You know the lands where the barbarians come from?" He nodded. "We're going up there."

Simon looked up. "Really?" he asked with a smile. "Wow! That would be great. No one from Elm has ever been up there!"

"Are we really considering this?" asked Krog. "He's a boy, probably not even turned ten yet-"

"I'm twelve," said Simon defensively. "I'm just small for my age, so my father says."

"Fine," said Krog, "twelve, then, but still a boy. We are not caretakers and we might very well die on this journey. Can we put his life in that kind of danger just because he asks us to?"

Sarah said, "Krog, you told me yourself that you left the orphanage at the age of seven. I was taken by the barbarians when I was ten. I think he can make his own decisions."

"Well, now," said Nik, "that's not really up to us, now is it? So long as we're in the king's lands, we're held to his law which says that his father owns the boy until he's of age or given up."

Cerevin blinked. "Are you really that concerned with following the king's law, Nik?"

Nik said, "I've been through all the wild and civilized lands between Deardon and the wastelands and following the law is what sets us apart from the animals." Cerevin watched him for a moment longer and then said, "Yargma, do you have an opinion on the matter?"

She looked over Simon, evaluating him. "Can you fight?" He shook his head. "Can you hide?" He nodded enthusiastically. "If you get tired or hurt, will you whine?" He shook his head gravely. Yargma looked up at Cerevin and said, "then I think he can come."

Krog shrugged and laid back down. "Well, now that that's decided, I'm going back to sleep." He yawned. "Night, all."

Nik looked nervously between Sarah and Cerevin. "I really think this is a bad idea," he said. "If we take him, the town will search for him, and I'm fairly sure we don't want them to find us."

Simon shook his head. "They won't search here," he said. "I told my next older brother that I was going east to play by the river."

Cerevin smiled. "So, they'll likely begin their search there. Good thinking, Simon. I don't think you're slow at all." Simon beamed.

Nik said, "alright, but just remember who said it was a bad idea." He muttered to himself as he rolled over and went back to sleep.

The next morning dawned cold and grey. They rose early without much talking and made sure they were well away from the town of Elm before they returned to the road northward. The road was starting to look smaller and a lot less traveled. Cerevin was happy that he had a new audience for his story of the Stronghold and the crazy king who had lived there. Sarah and Yargma, who had spent the last three years hearing the story, were bored but patient with the whole conversation. Nik seemed unsettled by the discussion, and Krog seemed uninterested.

Simon was enthralled. "Just when King Menes was at the peak of his power," said Cerevin, "with all the monsters and beasts and magical traps to guard his vast treasure... the king vanished." Simon looked shocked. "It was as if he just vanished into thin air."

"Wow," said Simon. "But if he killed all his guards off because he was afraid they'd steal the treasure, how did the story get out?"

Cerevin continued, "legend has it that he didn't kill of all the guards, he just cursed them, binding them to the place so they could never leave, not even in death. Other legends say that he turned them into beasts to help guard the treasure, but with no reason to steal it. Still others say that he didn't kill them, but paid them very well to spread the rumor that King Menes had killed them in order to keep people away."

"And that's where we're going?" asked Simon, his voice full of awe.

"Yes," said Cerevin, "that's where we're going: the vast and ancient Stronghold of King Menes the first, the only, and the monumentally crazy." Nik looked like he was going to bite his tongue off, but said nothing.

The reached the town of Light's End in the mid-afternoon. It was a tiny village with only a small inn, a town hall, and one shop. The shop also served as a trading post for the trappers and hunters that roamed the great woods, gathering their livelihood just as farmers plowed theirs.

Although there was no sign decrying death to non-humans, the village was two days from the barbarian wastelands. Any town that close must surely have come to hate the fall season when the barbarians left their homes to raid the human lands. So, they kept to the forest and again let the humans among them do the gathering of supplies.

This time, Cerevin and Nik went into town and Sarah stayed behind with Krog and Yargma. Simon checked on her bandage which he had applied that morning and was satisfied. Sarah noticed that it did feel better since the morning, and it probably had something to do with the herbal paste Simon had insisted on applying. He declared that it would be healed before they reached the wastelands.

The fire built and wood gathered, Simon grew bored, but carefully didn't say anything. Yargma, being only a few years older than Simon, also grew bored easily. Krog was reading his books again, occasionally making notes with a metal pen and ink bottle that he guarded very carefully.

Finally, Yargma could stand it no longer. "Simon," she said in her deep voice. He flinched a little at the sound. "Come here," she said. Sarah nodded at Simon and he walked meekly to her.

"No, no, no," said Yargma, "you need to project confidence that you can handle any challenge. Half of any fight is convincing the other person that you are going to win." Yargma continued like that for a while, giving Simon the very basics of fighting, showing him how to hold his hands, how to hit, how to escape from wrist grabs and other bodily attacks.

Sarah watched as Simon made a lot of the same mistakes she had made when learning to fight. Even Krog took some interest in the lessons, looking up from his book occasionally. Traditional barbarian fighting was of little value to Sarah since her arms we far too weak to wield a two handed sword. Cerevin's lessons in rapier and short sword fighting were far more useful to her, as far as dealing with weapons went. After all the lessons Yargma and Cerevin had given her, Sarah still just went on instinct in a fight.

"Simon," Sarah called. They stopped the move they were practicing. "Have you ever been in a fight with your brothers?" He nodded. "How did that work out?"

Simon looked at his feet. "Usually we just tussled until my brother promised to stop hitting me, or until father broke it up," he said.

"How did that make you feel?" she asked, trying to evoke some rage in him.

"Weak," he said, "and small."

Sarah got up and joined Yargma and Simon. "Here's what I'm thinking," she said to them. "Yargma fights like a proper barbarian, straight out, sword-heavy, and frenzied. I fight like I have since I was a girl, filled with rage like a caged demon." She looked at Yargma. "Maybe he needs to fight more like Cerevin, more like Krog, with diversion and dodging."

Yargma nodded slowly, taking in Sarah's insights. Simon smiled. "I like that," he said. "I don't like causing pain in others, but I sure don't want to get hurt myself." They settled on teaching him to dodge and move with attacks and being aware of his surroundings.

It was late evening when Cerevin and Nik returned from the village. Simon had passed out into a weary sleep and Yargma sat satisfied by the fire. Cerevin did not look pleased. He had a fresh bruise forming on his jaw.

In barbarian, Sarah asked, "did something happen?"

Cerevin shook his head and responded, also in barbarian, "we will talk later." He piled the wineskins near his pack and rolled up in his sleeping blanket, sulking.

Yargma said to Nik, "ranger, what kinds of dangers do these woods hold? Are the different from the woods far east of here in the other kingdom?"

Sarah looked at Yargma and teased, "worried about bears?" Yargma smirked and tossed a pine cone at Sarah. "Hush, human."

Nik smiled and said, "bears yes, but not many will be out this time of year, it's still a mite early. The ones that are out will be darn-tootin' hungry, I'll tell you that much. No, around these parts, it's the more magical annoyances you've got to worry about."

Krog looked up from his book. "Like what? I've sensed no magic here."

Nik looked sidelong at Krog and said, "pixies, brownies, the occasional tree troll, that kind of thing."

"Ah," said Krog, "faeries, then, not proper magic. Well, that explains it." He went back to his book, oblivious to the confusion he had caused in Sarah and Yargma.

"Sorry," said Sarah, "but, could you explain what you mean by that?"

Krog said, "well, I've felt a little uneasy since we entered the great forest." He gestured around him with his grey-green hand. "Nothing specific, nothing focused, just... unease."

"And that means it's faeries?"

Krog nodded. "Obviously. Human... or similar... magic has a distinct focus to it, a point or line or shape to it, because magic is something extra that we do. Magic is not innately within us, it's something we actively and consciously control. Faeries, on the other hand, are made of magic. They can do magic because they are magic. They are born with it and born with instincts about how to use it. No one teaches a faerie magic."

"I see," said Sarah, "and the unfocused nature of their magic makes you uneasy?"

"More or less," said Krog. "I've spent many years honing my abilities to detect magic, to see it, and to control it. To have so much unfocused magic about makes all those senses go crazy. It would be like if you'd spent your life attuning your sense of smell and someone put a rotting fish outside your window. It's nothing specific, just a general feeling that something's not right."

"Ugh," groaned Yargma. "I hate fish."

Sarah said to Nik, "so, these faeries, are they dangerous? To us?"

Nik said, "no, no, not really. Tree trolls can be a might annoying at times, but pixies and brownies you can shoo off pretty easily. That is, unless they take a fancy to you. Then you're in for a fight."

"I have not heard of these creatures," said Yargma, "pixies and faeries and trolls. Why are they here and not further east of here?"

"Well," said Nik, "that's a hotly debated question around these parts. Some say it's because they started near here. Others say they were brought to the woods in ancient times from distant lands as pets and they escaped. Still others say it was King Menes that brought them here, to help guard his Stronghold."

"Guard?" asked Sarah. "If they're not dangerous, how would they help in guarding the king's treasure?"

"Now, I said they weren't dangerous," said Nik, "I didn't say anything about whether or not they were sneaky. Faeries are the best at mind games, playing with you, making you think things are going your way, just before they pounce."

"Well, if that's true and there are faeries guarding the Stronghold," said Sarah, "then we'll have to be especially vigilant. And we should keep an eye on Krog to make sure he doesn't get overwhelmed with ambient magic."

Krog smiled. "I'm glad you're thinking of me." He shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground. "Do you think we'll really even find the Stronghold?"

"Oh yes," said Nik, a little too quickly. He said, "well, most likely. You have the services of the world's best ranger to guide you. I know these woods and the surrounding areas very well."

Sarah said, "how long have you been a ranger, Nik?"

He sat back, glad that Sarah had deflected the conversation to something safer. "Well now, let's see. Ever since I was a boy, as I recollect, I was running these woods, learning their ins and outs, tracking down animals for trapping."

"What made you become a ranger?"

Nik smiled. "I want to make sure people get where they're going."

It was raining when they woke up the next morning. The trees lessened the impact of the drops, but had they been on open ground, it would have been a heavy rain. As it was, the ground was still solid, but slippery in places. Simon had brought a jacket, but it was no match for the chill in the air and rain. Sarah gave him her jacket and wrapped up in her sleeping blanket for the trek north.

Cerevin was still grumpy in the morning and his bruise had turned a dark purple overnight. Something or someone had nailed him pretty hard. He led the way and wasn't in the mood to have a little thing like rain or muddy terrain slow him down.

The tromped through the trees and underbrush, sometimes following deer paths, sometimes not. For the most part, Nik didn't have much to do as Cerevin's sense of direction was holding strong. He would occasionally shout directions if Cerevin paused for too long.

The trees here were not like Sarah remembered when they were coming down from barbarian lands far east of here. The trees here were taller, but thinner, so you could see further through the bare trunks than in the other forest where the pine needles obscured most everything. This was almost like being in a giant building where the tree tops formed a distant, living roof.

They were collectively making enough noise that the animals they did see along their path were running away from them. That is until they encountered the Elgar. After frightening off some deer, Cerevin noticed that the deer had been running towards them until the last second. When they veered away, Cerevin saw a group of brown, furry bodies rooting around at something on the ground ahead of them.

The creatures were eating some piece of prey, probably one of the deer that had just gone running off. Their backs were brown fur, and they had no tails to speak of. When the moved, it was cat-like and graceful. Down near where they were feeding on the animal, it looked like a pile of dried, grey sticks in a windstorm. It took Cerevin a moment to realize that they were antlers and they were attached to the heads of the furry creatures.

He turned slightly to the party and whispered, "Elgar. I count eight of them."

"Maybe we can go around," whispered Sarah.

Nik shook his head. "Not likely. They'll hear us no matter what we do. We should either stay here and hope they're full, or attack them and catch them unawares."

"I say we fight," said Yargma, preparing to draw her sword.

Sarah put her hand on Yargma's. "They'll hear that," said Sarah. She turned to Nik. "How vicious are they? Can we beat them?"

Nik shrugged. "They're bigger than cougars, but smaller than bears. If I can get a clear shot, I can take out two of them from here. But that will bring the rest down on us in a hurry."

Cerevin swore. "The point is moot anyway. They've seen us." One of the Elgar had looked up from his dinner, his cat-like face dripping with blood. It licked its lips and its ears quivered beneath the sharp looking antlers. Its eyes moved over the party with disturbing intelligence and on some unseen signal, the other Elgar looked up as well.

Sarah swore as well and pulled her hand back from Yargma's. The barbarian drew her sword and prepared to fight. Krog was already concentrating on a spell and Nik had drawn back his bow. Simon was nowhere to be seen. Sarah looked around for him briefly then remembered his specialty when it came to fighting: hiding. "Good work, Simon," she whispered into the air.

After a few nerve racking seconds, the Elgar moved, almost as one animal and rushed towards them. Swords out and ready, Yargma waited until they were two bounds away before letting out her battle cry. The sound tore through the trees, sending birds flapping away in terror, and giving the Elgar just a moment of pause. And, in that moment, the party attacked.

Nik let arrows fly in rapid succession. The first few hit a single Elgar, but not enough to fell it. Then one of the arrows hit home and the beast whimpered and fell to the ground unmoving. Nik turned his attention to the next one, but a fireball was already on its way. It hit true and a second Elgar dropped from the attack, its body still burning as it hit the ground.

Yargma slashed at the one nearest her, moving her blade in a small wiggle as she reacted to the Elgar. It had moved its antlers to catch the blade. Yargma was pretty sure the blade could have gone through them, but she didn't want to take the chance against an unknown enemy. Her blade slashed across the Elgar's chest, causing it to howl in pain, but not enough to kill it.

As one of the beasts prepared to leap towards Cerevin, he noticed that their tactic had changed slightly, again as if communicating by an unheard, unseen mechanism. They slowed their charge and began encircling the group, now using their antlers as their primary weapons. Cerevin lunged at the one closest to him, hoping it was still off-balance from its sudden change in direction. He caught the beast in the shoulder, a deep wound, but not fatal. The Elgar twitched its head upwards and caught Cerevin's outstretched arm with its antler, opening a short, ragged gash in Cerevin's forearm and loosening his grip on his sword momentarily.

As he was recovering his position, Cerevin saw a fireball, this one smaller than the first, hit the Elgar in the side. It stumbled back a few inches and then charged forward, head down, trying to impale Cerevin on his sharp antlers. He slipped to the side, just barely in time, the antlers just grazing his side. Nik had set aside his bow and drove one of his unusual short swords into the creature's side. It let out a snarl, then fell to the ground limply.

Yargma slashed again at the beast in front of her, but it was a diversion. When it moved its head to intercept the blade, Yargma pulled back and thrust the blade forward instead, impaling the creature on the large sword. It gasped and snarled before falling to the ground a second later.

While Krog was concentrating on his next attack, Sarah moved herself between him and one of the Elgar that had circled around to their flank. It stalked with Sarah for a moment, moving like a cat, until it sprang forward, claws and teeth exposed and extremely sharp. Sarah stepped to one side, slashing with her short sword, but she wasn't fast enough. Her blade came up between the Elgar's front legs, just grazing its chest, but its claws came down on Sarah's left arm with force, ripping through cloth and flesh with ease.

Sarah grunted in pain and stumbled to her left, away from Krog. The beast landed on its feet, already half turned around towards its prey. Krog loosed a fireball on the cat, but it barely had enough force to give the cat pause. It did, however, get the Elgar's attention. It turned its fierce eyes to Krog and prepared to leap again. Sarah got there first and pulled Krog to the ground, out of the path of the attack. It would be kind to call it a diving leap and more accurate to call it a controlled fall. The cat clawed downwards, mid-leap, trying to catch some piece of its prey, and caught Krog's robe, but nothing more.

Nik faced the other flanking Elgar with both his weapons drawn. Unlike the others, Nik had faced Elgar before and knew how to fight them, at least when fighting just one. He held his swords strangely high, as if they were attached to his shoulders. When the Elgar lunged at him with its antlers, Nik put his head down and blocked the charge with his swords. Then the Elgar backed off, circled around and charged again. They continued this for a while until the Elgar gave up on its antlers and put its head back in a snarl and slashed at Nik with its claws. Nik moved the blades down closer to his hands and held them almost pointing at the Eglar, like the blades were growing out of his forearms.

Back and forth, Nik and the Elgar slashed and retreated, exchanging glancing blows. Finally the cat paced before Nik, clearly frustrated that its dinner was being so uncooperative. The cat crouched for a full-out leap and Nik brought the swords up again, ready to impale the beast, if it tried. The Elgar leapt forward, prepared for the counter-attack. It swept its front claw sideways, knocking the swords aside at the cost of a deep gash on its paw and leg. When Nik realized he couldn't stab the Elgar in the belly, he moved out of the way of the pounce, trying to slash upwards as the beast fell.

No sooner had Sarah and Krog hit the ground than they found themselves with a disturbingly close-up view of a wounded Elgar landing in front of them. Nik stumbled a little with the awkward attack. The Elgar turned, but Cerevin's thin-bladed sword impaled the beast with a death blow. The cat's feet went out from under it and it gave a half-hearted swipe at Nik's legs. Cerevin turned to face the Elgar leaping towards Sarah and Krog, but Yargma's heavy sword cleaved the beast in two in mid-air.

They looked around, making sure there were no more Elgar lurking. Seeing no immediate threats, Cerevin put away his sword and extended his hands to Sarah and Krog to help them up. Sarah noticed the gash on Cerevin's forearm and a set of claw shaped gashes on his leg. "Are you alright?" she asked, looking at his leg.

Cerevin looked down and winced when he moved his leg to look at the wound. "Yes, I expect so," he said. He nodded to Sarah's arm. "And you?" She nodded.

Nik recovered his bow and said, "we should move on, now. It won't be long before the scavengers catch the scent and move in." They gathered themselves up and Cerevin was about to call for Simon when he appeared out of nowhere.

"That's a neat trick, Simon," he said. "Good work getting to safety." Simon nodded, but pointed at Cerevin's leg. "We should bandage that properly as soon as possible. All of you," he said.

"Need to go," hissed Nik, looking around nervously. The party felt no special need to hang around the slaughter, so they moved northward.

After half an hour or so, Nik thought it would be safe enough to stop for a few minutes to bandage their wounds before continuing.

"What's the rush, Nik," asked Sarah. "What's out there that makes you so nervous? You seemed to handle the Elgar okay."

"Well, I'll tell you," said Nik. "For one thing, Elgar are territorial, but they do not take kindly to the slaughter of their own. We'd best be careful to avoid any more of them before we can find a stream to clean up in. Second, there are vampire mites around here. And, as much as I love a good story, I do not care to include an encounter with those beasties among them."

"What are vampire mites?" asked Simon, not taking his eyes from the bandage he was applying.

"Legend," said Krog. "No one has manage to capture them, dead or alive, for study. The theory is that they're magically enchanted ants that got loose. That is, if they're real."

"Oh they're real all right," said Cerevin. Yargma and Sarah nodded soberly. It was the one time Yargma had been glad to be on a boat.

"What do they do?" asked Simon again, getting another bandage from his pack.

Nik nodded to Krog. "Well, like he said, they're kind of like ants, but they have a taste for blood, human, animal, doesn't much matter to them. I don't mean to scare you, son, but if you see a mound of little bugs, especially if they're near a body of some kind, you high tail it out of there and don't look back. They can strip a body entirely of its flesh in under two minutes."

Simon looked awed and a little scared. "There are bugs like that in this forest?" Nik nodded soberly. Simon redoubled his efforts to finish treating the wounds of the party so they could be underway again as soon as possible. He didn't want to be some bug's two minute snack.

They walked northward until it was too dark for them to see where they were going before stopping for the night. Simon and Nik went off to gather firewood and left Sarah with a chance to ask about what happened in the town of Light's End yesterday and the bruise on Cerevin's jaw.

Sarah looked over at Krog. He was sitting quietly, wrapped in his sleeping blanket and looked like he was meditating or trying to memorize something. She turned back to Cerevin and said, in barbarian, "what happened in town last night?"

Yargma looked up from her reclining position at Sarah and then at Cerevin, but said nothing.

Cerevin looked at Krog, then back to Sarah. "One of the men in the inn gave us a hard time," he said. "We exchanged words, then blows, but nothing more."

Sarah frowned. It wasn't like Cerevin to get riled by any random stranger tossing insults around. He was usually so cool-headed that it was hard to get him to act rashly. "What did he say?"

"It's not important," said Cerevin and looked away.

Yargma and Sarah exchanged glances. "Cerevin, you can trust us," said Sarah.

"I know that," said Cerevin. "It is... well... embarrasing." He blushed slightly and wouldn't meet their eyes.

"Did someone mistake you for a girl again?" asked Sarah with a twinkle in her eye.

Cerevin looked up, confused, then chuckled when he saw Sarah's expression. "Ha ha, no, nothing like that."

Yargma smiled and said, "it must be the hair. His hair is so long and pretty." She pantomimed brushing long hair.

Cerevin threw a stone at Yargma and smiled.

"Then what?" said Sarah, bringing them back to the mystery at hand. "What would make you act so differently?"

Cerevin looked down at his feet again and sighed. "The man was drunk, but he started talking about the curse of King Menes and how it would bring an end to them all." Cerevin paused, trying to retain his calm by taking a deep breath. "Then he said that those who follow King Menes were demons and not worthy to breathe the same air as him. He wished death on those following King Menes, then he took a swing me and Nik, catching me off-guard."

Sarah frowned again. "But that does not make sense," she said. "We are not following King Menes, just looking for his castle. He must have-"

"What are you talking about?" asked Nik, returning to the clearing, his arms full of firewood.

Cerevin said, in human, "just remembering old times." He looked around the campsite and said, "where's Simon?"

"I'm here," said a voice from the shadows behind Nik. He appeared, similarly laden, but with smaller branches.

They busied themselves making a fire with the damp wood, which took quite a while and smoked profusely. But, it was warm, which was all that mattered.

In the morning, they found that their packs had been rifled through and one of the wine skins was empty. After the initial alarm, the small, passed out brownies outside their camp left no doubt as to the perpetrators. Simon was entranced at seeing actual faeries and shook off Nik's admonishment that not all faeries were quite so friendly and harmless. They re-packed everything and started northward again. Cerevin wasn't quite as grumpy that morning, so he let Nik lead the party for a while.

Simon's curiosity and Nik's penchant for story telling made a good match for such a long journey.

"Do you think we'll see other faeries?" Simon asked.

Nik nodded. "Yes," he said, "almost certainly. You know the first time I saw a brownie, I wasn't much older than you. We had camped near a fox hole, hoping to get some good skins for trading. We had just started to fall asleep when I heard something move. Well, I was scared, knowing all the beasties that can eat you alive out here."

He turned towards Simon as much as the path permitted and pantomimed looking up over a hillside. "I crept up to the edge of camp and looked over the edge. Now, I can't say I was pleased to see the brownies as they were working out how to steal some of the skins we'd spent yesterday collecting. But, I do remember the excitement of finally seeing faeries."

"What did you do?" asked Simon.

"Well, the only thing I could do," said Nik, "I grabbed my skinning knife and rushed them, howling like a banshee!"

"Did they run away?"

"Of course they ran away," laughed Nik. "Then there I was, brandishing my skinning knife at a pile of lifeless skins when my father jumped up and came to see what I was hollerin' about. I tried to explain what I was doing, but without the brownies there, I looked a little crazy. Well, suffice it to say that I came up with a quieter way to scare off brownies after that."

"Wow," said Simon. "I hope I live to be as old as you."

Nik and Sarah laughed. "So do we," said Sarah. Then, she added, "keep bandaging like this and you might well live to be old like us."

"Did it work?" asked Simon.

"Did what work?" said Sarah. "I was just noticing that my arm feels a whole lot better this morning." Cerevin and Yargma poked tentatively at their own wounds and muttered agreement.

Simon smiled and blushed a little before looking at his feet. "I tried some healing words the old witch lady taught me," he said. "I'm glad they helped."

They walked the rest of the day northward and just as night was falling, the veered slightly east. The trees were thinner here, shorter and not as bushy. What the trees lacked, the underbrush made up for, being so thick at times that Yargma came forward and slashed them a path through the thorns and vines. They were getting closer to the wastelands.

By mid-day the next day, they were fully into the wastelands. Trees were few and far between and around the rocky reaches and scrub grass. The day was clear and cold and Sarah felt a rush of memories coming back. Yargma tugged at Sarah's sleeve and they shared a happy smile; it felt like home.

For the others, the wastelands felt intimidating, scary, and sterile. Krog complained a little about how all these rocks were making him twist his ankles and Simon declared this far less interesting than the forest. Sarah reminded him that there were no vampire mites out here, which made him happy. She didn't tell him that there were far bigger dangers out here, such as wolves, herds of enormous beasts that could crush a man under its hooves, and barbarians of other tribes.

When the stopped to take a break, Nik and Cerevin discussed their path and consulted Cerevin's map. They were only a day or so away now and Cerevin was getting anxious. With the rocky hills they travelled now giving way to proper mountains, he wasn't sure they'd be able to spot the Stronghold at a distance.

Sarah finished her meal and said something to Yargma in barbarian. Yargma nodded and Simon looked up at her. "What did she say?" he asked. Yargma said, "she is going to look for firewood."

"Now?" asked Simon. "Isn't it a little early? Besides, I haven't seen many trees out here."

Yargma nodded. "Exactly." She was going to leave it at that, but after a moment of silence, Krog said, "alright, I'll ask it then. If there aren't trees for firewood, what are we going to burn?"

"Gronk," said Yargma. "I don't think it has a human name." Cerevin rejoined the group and said, "it's dried animal dung." Yargma looked annoyed, like he had spoiled her game.

Krog made a disgusted face and Simon said, "ewww!"

"Don't worry," said Cerevin, "it's not as disgusting as it sounds."

Yargma nodded toward Nik, who had gone ahead to scout over the next hill. "When does he think we'll arrive at the Stronghold?"

"Tomorrow or the day after," Cerevin said. "Why?"

"This time of year, the wolves will be hungry and active at night," she said. "We need to be careful." Cerevin nodded.

After another half hour or so, Sarah returned, her pack a bit bulkier than before. They headed in the direction that Nik had left in and caught up to him making his way back. The next hill confirmed their suspicion as to their location, so they pressed onward. Even Krog was starting to get excited now that they were approaching their goal. And he'd only been looking for the Stronghold for a few days, how must Cerevin feel after all these years of searching?

At the end of the day, they could just barely make out the outline of something unnatural nestled in the mountains to the northeast. It was darker than the surrounding hills and its sides were too straight to be completely natural.

When the sun had set, they decided to camp for the night rather than falling and breaking their necks in the dark. Nik tried to argue for pushing onwards, but even Cerevin recognized the wisdom in stopping for the night. They lit up the gronk and tried to ignore the smell.

Yargma sat up for a long while after the others had fallen asleep. She had told Cerevin that she would take the first watch and would wake him when she was tired, but she wasn't sure she could sleep. Like Sarah, the memories had come back with the familiar terrain, and the memories contained a great deal of personal pain. She still had Sarah, who she had known her whole life, but she missed her sister and the rest of her tribe acutely now.

How much could she have learned from her own kind and the raids to teach her. She felt like she was getting soft in these human lands with their inns and soft fabric clothes. In fact, why was she still wearing her human clothes out here? Yargma took off her shirt and stuffed it in her pack. She had no loin cloth to wear instead of her human pants, but felt better already.

She looked down at her arms, tanned only to the elbow or so, but that was almost unnoticeable beneath the densely packed death marks. The tiny skulls looped around her wrists and up to her shoulders. She had also been able to go topless in the island kingdoms, so her chest was not as white as it would have been otherwise.

Yargma picked up her sword and began moving through the training motions of her youth, focusing on making the form perfect. Maybe she had been wrong to go with Sarah and Cerevin three years ago. After the death of most of her tribe, she could have sought out the others to wherever they scattered. She could have stayed with her own kind and learned what they had to teach her. Instead, she had given in to her childish need to hold on to her family, however delicate that grasp was.

Sarah had always been a slave in her mind, but a good one, and a strong one. She had been a guiding, calming hand to slaves and barbarian children alike. Sarah belonged with her tribe, even if she could never be part of it, and that made her family. Yargma held no ill-will towards Cerevin and Sarah, and certainly these past few years had been educational in their own right, but being here again made Yargma remember all that she had left behind to travel with them.

It was the very faint light of pre-dawn when Yargma finally woke Cerevin to keep lookout for them. She had worked out most of her anxiety over the last few hours and knew she needed some sleep before tomorrow. Cerevin raised an eyebrow at Yargma's lack of shirt, but took over the watch without a word.

The rest of the night and early morning passed without incident. After dawn, Yargma got up to run for a while. Krog snored quietly and Simon took the opportunity to check on the bandages he had applied. Sarah threw another patty of dried animal dung on the fire and ignored the hateful looks Nik threw her way.

Satisfied with the progress of Cerevin's healing, Simon came to check on Sarah's wound. She watched him carefully unwrap the bandage, smiling slightly at his care, when she happened to look up and saw two barbarians coming their way quickly. They sprinted, almost silently up the hill to the camp. Sarah said over her shoulder, "company coming." She grabbed Simon and turned protectively, trying to put him behind her without turning her back on the barbarians.

One was smaller than the other by a fair amount and still had a top-knot of hair while the taller one was completely bald. Sarah guessed that they were teacher and student. She pushed Simon further behind her and drew her sword. Cerevin came up behind her, also wielding his weapon, but following her lead.

Sarah shouted in barbarian, "we seek no conflict with you." She could see that the barbarians were males now. They exchanged confused glances and slowed their pace, coming to a stop outside of sword range.

The older male looked her over and then looked over the rest of the party with disdain. He finally fixed his eyes on Sarah and said, "what are you doing here, human? These are our lands and it's our right to kill you now."

Sarah gripped her sword tighter, but held her ground. "We are only traveling through your lands," she said, "and we are leaving today."

Sarah saw the boy's eyes widen and he tapped his teacher on the arm, pointing at Sarah's sword arm. The ragged fabric of the sleeve had fallen away, exposing her death marks. Before she could explain, the big barbarian grabbed her by the front of her shirt and hoisted her off the ground. Cerevin started forward, ready to attack, but Sarah waved him off. She knew the big man might kill her, but they weren't there yet.

His eyes were filled with rage as he held Sarah up to his face. "What are those, human?" he asked. Before Sarah could answer, he bellowed, "you dare to take our customs for your own?"

Sarah pulled up her feet and pushed herself away from the barbarian, breaking his grip on her shirt. He grunted in surprise as Sarah dropped to the rocky ground, landing half on her feet. The big barbarian pulled back his arm to hit her when Yargma demanded, "what do you think you are doing?"

She stood just down the hill, topless and sweating from her run. She had drawn her sword and approached the scene with caution, inching towards Sarah. The big man looked between Sarah and Yargma, confused.

Sarah said, "we were just talking about customs. Before that we were trying to explain that we are just passing through and mean no disrespect."

Yargma nodded. "Exactly. Then what is the problem?" Sarah held out her sword arm for Yargma to see. Yargma lowered her sword slightly and said, "death marks?"

The big barbarian grabbed Sarah's arm again and demanded, "you gave these to her?" Sarah tried to pull her arm away, but the hand was like a vise on her wrist.

"Yes," said Yargma, "and she earned every one of them."

He scoffed. "What do you know, child?" He eyed Yargma's short top-knot of hair. "Where are the adults of your tribe?"

Yargma faltered. She had kept her hair because she had been a child when she travelled into human lands with Sarah to discover the fate of her tribe. She felt it was wrong to declare herself an adult when there would be no rite of passage, no one to anoint her with blood and introduce her to the Sword Mother. In some ways, Yargma felt she would never fully be an adult.

"They are dead," said Sarah. The teacher started to get angry again, but the boy said, "all of them?" Sarah nodded. "The few that remained behind during the fall raids scattered to other tribes. Some chose to go into human lands instead." The hand on her wrist loosened and Sarah yanked it back.

The big barbarian looked from Sarah to Yargma then over the rest of the camp. He looked more sad than angry now. "Fine," he said. "You go now on your travels. Do not come back this way again."

"As you wish," said Sarah, bowing slightly to him. He nodded and trotted down the hill with the boy just behind him.

Cerevin let out a breath and put his sword away. Nik and Krog were fully awake by this time, but hadn't dared move. Simon was visibly shaking when Sarah turned around to look for him.

"What was that about?" asked Krog. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they're gone, but that looked... complicated."

Sarah nodded. She looked at Yargma to make sure she was alright, but she had already started packing. Cerevin said, "let's get moving. We really don't want to anger the local landholders this morning."

Yargma stuffed her sleeping blanket into her pack with force and hoped that no one saw the tears in her eyes.

It was nearing nightfall when they stopped half a mile away from the Stronghold. Its black stone walls were a stark contrast to the pale stone of the wastelands and clearly was not quarried locally. The ground around the base of the walls was flat just far enough out to get a small fighting squad around it in formation, but not wide enough for siege weapons. After the flat area, the ground dropped away in large, jagged chunks of the local rock.

The walls looked completely smooth from this distance, but weirdly matte. There was crenelation along the tops of the walls and what looked like open guard towers on three of the corners. On the fourth corner, a tall, ominous looking tower rose. There were no windows visible in the tower and the roof looked like it was made from the same stone as the tower walls.

At one time there must have been a path leading to the place, but it had fallen away, either intentionally or by the ravages of time. Among the jagged rocks forming the base, there was a narrow strip of stone built up higher than elsewhere.

Cerevin pointed at the strip of rock. "See that," he said, "I'm betting that used to be the path leading to the place. That may still be the best way to approach."

Nik looked at the Stronghold and tried to contain his impatience. "So, are we going tonight?"

Cerevin and Sarah exchanged glances. "I don't know," said Cerevin, "it's getting late and I don't think we should try to navigate those rocks in the dark." Nik tapped his foot and looked at the Stronghold. He crossed and uncrossed his arms across his chest. Finally, he said, "fine. In the morning then." He turned away from the Stronghold and went back to join Krog in sitting on a boulder.

"Are you expecting any traps outside the walls?" asked Sarah. Cerevin looked at the Stronghold and said, "physical traps? No. I think those will only be within the walls, but I do expect some kind of magical tripwire around the walls." Cerevin was nervous with excitement and that thrill of nearby danger. They were finally here, within half a mile of the Stronghold of King Menes, after all these years. Even if they found nothing within the walls, Cerevin had proved all the nay-sayers wrong. He had found the Stronghold.

The night was dark and murky with fog as he ran through the underbrush, trying to get away. He looked back over his shoulder and saw the gleaming eyes of Elgar as they bounded after him, silent except for their subtle growl of hunger and the excitement of the chase. When he turned his head to look forward again, a man-sized figure stood in his path, but his features were obscured by a dark hood. He nearly collided with the man, but came to a skidding stop on his behind on the loose dried leaves that covered the forest floor. There was something just not right about the man and it was scary.

He tried to back away on his hands and feet, crab-walking backwards. His heart pounded in his chest and in his ears, threatening to explode, and his lungs burned. He stopped scrambling backwards when he felt the hot breath of the Elgar breathing down his neck. He flinched away from the fangs and sharp antlers of the cat.

The man with the hood extended his hand to the boy, pointing. He felt something enter his ears, nose, and mouth, like rivers of cold air, filling his lungs and wrapping themselves around his chest and his head. His vision blurred then it was like he was seeing himself from the outside. His body stood up and went to the hooded man, unafraid. He tried to scream, tried to stop himself, but he was helpless to do anything but watch. The man reached inside his robe and withdrew a blade. It was too long to be a dagger, and too short to be a short sword. He took the blade by the handle from the shadowed man and held it like a sword. Then he turned, calmly and walked through the fog, moving with a purpose.

He felt his vision tugged along behind the image of himself doing these things and screamed and thrashed, trying to get away. His possessed body moved forward and the fog and trees turned into boulders and jagged pale stone. The sky was clear and there were stars gleaming brightly in the sky. He walked until he saw his target, the half-breed mage, sleeping peacefully, completely unaware. It seemed the harder he fought his possessed self, the harder it was to stay himself. He felt himself being pulled back into himself now, but instead of being horrified by his body's actions, he felt that maybe it was right.

A voice whispered in his mind, "give in, boy, and let it happen. You belong with us. Kill the mage. He's not even human, so it's not wrong." He tried to resist because the mage had always been nice to him, but his vision came closer to his body. He saw his arms raise the blade and he felt his muscles tense. He squeezed his hands on the handled, just as his real self tried to squeeze his eyes shut, trying not to see what his body was about to do. "Do it!" commanded the voice. He pulled the blade down through the air with all his might, aiming for the neck...

Yargma's sword caught the blade on the way down and flipped it out of Simon's hands. She looked at Simon in confusion. His eyes moved back and forth under his eyelids, like he was dreaming, then his eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes. He twitched a little with surprise, but didn't make a sound. Yargma looked him over again and he started to shake as he looked down and saw that he was standing over Krog and a small rivulet of blood was running down his hand. He looked over and saw the blade from his dream laying on the ground several feet away. His eyes widened and he looked at Yargma, pleadingly.

Convinced he was no longer and immediate danger, Yargma put her blade away and beckoned Simon to follow her. She walked away from the camp a ways and waited. Simon joined her, still terrified.

"What happened, Simon?" Yargma asked.

"I-I-" he stuttered. Yargma smiled at him patiently and he swallowed the dry lump in his throat. "I was dreaming," he said hoarsely. "It was only a dream, right?"

Yargma looked concerned by his answer, but said, "tell me what you dreamed." Simon explained it the best he could about the Elgar and the man in the hood. He told her about feeling helpless to control himself and about the voice talking to him.

She frowned. "You said the man in the hood gave you the blade in your dream?" Simon nodded. "That's one of Nik's swords you had in your hands just before... well, just before you woke up."

"Am I going crazy, Yargma?" Simon asked, miserably as tears started rolling down his young face. "Was I really going to kill Krog? I like Krog. He's always nice to me. What are you going to do to me? I didn't mean to do it."

Yargma wished that Sarah was here because she felt entirely unprepared to deal with a crying human child. "Uh, I know you didn't mean it. It's not okay, but I don't know what to do about it." She looked up at the stars and said, "it's still too early to wake the others." Yargma wanted to talk this over with Cerevin, but Sarah had volunteered to take the second watch, given that she was more familiar with the wastelands. Was this some kind of magic trap from the Stronghold? Cerevin had warned them that there would be attacks on their minds from magic just as there would be physical traps. She sighed and shook her head.

"I'm going to wake Sarah since it's her turn to take watch," said Yargma. "I'll tell her what happened and she can keep and eye on both you and Krog for the rest of the night. Okay?"

Simon nodded. "Try to go back to sleep," said Yargma. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, but I don't think you did anything wrong, okay?" Simon smiled through his tears. They walked back to the camp and he laid down on his blanket, trying to sleep without dreaming. Yargma picked up the short blade and put it back near Nik's stuff. He seemed to be sleeping, but Yargma wasn't sure of anything anymore.

The night passed without further incident and Krog woke blissfully unaware of how close he had come to dying in the night. He looked up in the cold, dry morning to see Sarah and Cerevin talking in hushed voices just over a small rise, some steps away from the camp. Yargma was already awake and poking at the dung-fire with her sword's tip to bring it to life again. Simon seemed to be twitching a little in his sleep and whimpering slightly. Yargma eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing. Nik was also sleeping, but much more peacefully than Simon.

"What's going on?" asked Krog. Yargma looked up and gave him a wan smile. She pointed to Sarah and Cerevin with her sword and nodded to them. "They can explain," she said.

Krog raised an eyebrow, but got up without further discussion. As he approached Sarah and Cerevin, they stopped their conversation. Cerevin said, "Krog, good, I'm glad you're awake." He looked at Sarah, then back at Krog. "I'm curious about something," he said and Krog tried to stifle a yawn. "Can magic let you take control of someone else's body?"

Krog nodded. "Uh-huh," he said through a yawn. "But it's extremely difficult and takes an awful lot of power." Cerevin frowned and said, "anything else you'd need, like proximity, or a piece of the target's hair or something?"

Krog chuckled. "Yes and no. You don't strictly need any of that, but mind control becomes orders of magnitude more difficult the further you are from the target and if you don't have something to link them to you, like hair." He yawned again and looked back at the camp where Simon was just waking up and wiping sleep from his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Sarah said, "Simon tried to kill you last night." Something caught in Krog's throat and he coughed and turned back to Sarah in surprise. "Sorry, did I hear that right?" Sarah nodded and Cerevin tilted his head and said, "so it would seem."

"What..." Krog muttered and turned back to see Simon warming himself by the fire and looking miserable. Cerevin said, "from his description to Yargma, he was dreaming and someone gave his dream self a knife, the same knife he tried to use on you. He described seeing himself from the outside and being powerless to stop himself." Cerevin paused. "Does that sound right?"

Krog nodded. "Yes, that's the experience most people describe, but mind control is extremely rare. Like I said, it's astonishingly difficult, frowned upon, and illegal in some parts of the kingdom, Dreardon being one of them, so I've never tried it." He unconsciously put his hand to his neck.

"I suggest we don't mention this to Nik," said Cerevin, "just until we know what we're dealing with. Do you detect any magic around here?"

Krog closed his eyes for a second, but he was just verifying his feeling from yesterday. "Nothing pointed, like a trap or person, just a general sense."

"Like you felt in the forest around the faeries?" asked Sarah.

Krog shook his head. "No, this is different. Faeries give off ambient magic, but it's natural... it has a flow to it. The feeling here is, well, if I don't know better, I'd say it was confused."

Cerevin raised an eyebrow. "How can magic be confused?"

"What I mean is, whoever is or was in charge of putting spells up around the Stronghold made some very conflicting choices. This is a gross oversimplification, but image one kind of magic is like fire and the other is like ice. They both have a feel, a shape, and they are completely at odds. You wouldn't use them both if you were trying to build a solid defense. But somebody around here did exactly that." Krog shrugged. "It might have been years ago, it might have been yesterday, but that kind of conflict is what I feel all around this area."

"Why didn't you say anything yesterday?" asked Cerevin, both annoyed at Krog keeping this to himself and impressed with the mage's knowledge.

"I didn't think it was important," he said. "That kind of confused energy isn't dangerous, just... odd."

Nik had woken up and was also warming himself by the dung-fueled fire. Simon eyed him suspiciously, but tried to act normally, as Yargma had told him to. Cerevin said, "well, thank you. Let's keep this conversation and the events of last night to ourselves. No sense in alarming everyone in the party." Krog nodded and the three of them went to rejoin the others. Today, they would scale the base of the Stronghold and finally be at its doorstep.

They picked their way carefully through the jagged rocks, first descending the near side of the eroded land bridge, then ascending to the base of the Stronghold. Once on the same ground as the Stronghold, Krog's sense of confused magic grew even stronger. He wondered if this much ambient magic would make it difficult to spot traps. Cerevin surveyed the wall.

"I think I want to circle the building once first, before we approach the doors," he said.

"Why?" asked Nik impatiently. "It's right here, let's just go in."

Yargma said, "I agree with Cerevin. It will be good to know if there are any other exits to this place."

Nik sighed and said, "alright, if you want to waste time out here, that's fine."

Cerevin eyed him suspiciously. "What's your hurry, Nik?" he asked. "It's not like someone is going to steal the treasure out from under us."

Nik started to explain a few times then settled on, "it's just that you've spent so long looking for this place. I would have thought that you'd be anxious to get inside, finally."

"I am anxious," said Cerevin. "But in my line of work, caution is almost always warranted."

They circled the building, examining the base of the walls, the drop-off of native stone, and watching the crenelations for anything that might be guarding the place. Out behind the Stronghold, they found a wide open space that was now overgrown with weeds, but it looked like it had once been a small farm. It looked like there had been a door near the fields, but it was now blocked from the inside by large boulders that were too heavy to move. The other sides of the Stronghold were featureless and, from what they could see, lifeless.

"Do we know," asked Sarah, "what should be guarding the perimeter? Human guards? Some kind of animal?"

Cerevin shook his head. "None of the legends were that specific," he said.

Finding no other way in, they cautiously approached the front gates. The doors were large enough to permit a fully laden cart. They looked to be wood, but it had somehow been treated so that it appeared black. There were no handles on the outside of the doors, but one of them stood slightly ajar. Yargma managed to wedge her sword in between the doors and get enough purchase to pull it open. The hinges creaked a low, grudging sound as it opened.

Cerevin peered around the door and, seeing no immediate danger, he motioned for the others to follow him. The doors opened into a small courtyard where the carts must have unloaded. On either side of the door, there were decaying wooden structures, stuffed with rotted hay and the bleached bones of oxen. There was only a small human sized door in the back wall.

"It looks like the carts would have unloaded here," Cerevin said, "and guards must have taken the goods through that door."

"Good place for an ambush," mused Yargma, looking around.

"Indeed," said Cerevin. "And going through the only obvious door makes me extremely nervous." He looked around at the back wall of the courtyard. It was just as smooth, matte, and featureless as the outer walls. He put his hand out and touched the stone. "That's odd," he said and drew his hand back.

"What is it?" asked Sarah.

"The wall is warm," said Cerevin.

"Could it be the sun?" asked Krog. "The stones are black and would retain heat very well."

Cerevin shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "This feels intentional."

Krog put his hand on the wall, but felt nothing, not even the ambient confusion he felt elsewhere around here.

"Could there be another way in?" asked Sarah. "A secret door or a ladder to go up and over the wall?"

"Let's find out," said Cerevin. "Everybody look around for a way in that's not the big obvious door."

They spread out, feeling along the wall, checking the ground for trap doors, and looking up for where ladders might have come from. The wall here, like the exterior walls, were made of large stones fitted very neatly together. Only the ravages of time made the seams between the stones visible and even then, they were often only hairline breaks in the wall.

After several minutes of searching, Nik said from the back of one of the stables, "I've got something here." There was a slight break in the wall where the beams for the stable had been attached and just below that was a small area of the wall that was inset just slightly. It was about the size of a man's hand.

Cerevin surveyed the find and said, "let's get a stick or something and- Wait!" Nik had pushed on the inset area with his hand and it moved backwards with a grating stone sound. "Dammit, Nik!" said Cerevin, pulling Nik's hand away from the wall. "It might be a trap." Somewhere beneath them, large stones were moving an shifting.

Nik said, "you know, son, I'm beginning to think that you believe everything is a trap." Beside Nik a small area in the wall receded and slid to the side. No dust fell from the opening when the stone moved.

"You're right," said Cerevin, "I do think everything is a trap here." He motioned at the passageway and said to Nik, "after you."

Nik shrugged and bent down to peer into the passageway. "It seems to open into a corridor after only a few feet," he said. He ducked into the opening.

Cerevin and Simon followed next. Krog ducked through the opening, his broad shoulders brushing the edges. Yargma had to get down on her side and shimmy through the opening. Sarah fought the urge to laugh.

The corridor beyond the secret passage was bright with sunlight from windows set high into the wall. They were standing at a corner with a passage going to their left, back towards the obvious front door, and ahead of them, towards the back of the Stronghold.

Cerevin took the corridor ahead of them with unspoken consent from the rest of the party. "Be alert," he said. "Although I expect there were more traps near the front door, there may be any number along here."

But, all the signs of traps were absent here. Like the secret entrance, Cerevin looked for creases in the stone, changes of color, texture, and so forth that might indicate a trap, but saw nothing.

After about a hundred feet, Cerevin paused. "What is it?" asked Sarah. Before he could respond, the sound of huge wings beating the air came up from behind them. Everyone ducked with more or less success against the giant bird as it clawed at them with its talons. The bird swooped through the hallway then disappeared out what must have been a doorway on the left, about fifty feet in front of them. They heard the bird cry out in what sounded like annoyance. They stayed low to the ground and watched the area above and behind them for any more birds.

"What was that?" demanded Yargma. "I have never seen that kind of bird in the wastelands before."

"Must be an import, then," said Cerevin. "One of the beasts King Menes brought here to guard his treasure from far away lands."

"What's it been eating all these years?" asked Simon. Nik smiled at the question. "Very observant, young man," said Nik. "Yes, a bird like that would require a fairly large diet of meat."

"So long as it's not us," said Krog, "I'm not sure I really care what it eats."

Cerevin nodded. "Nik, if it comes back, can you try to bring it down?" Nik looked annoyed, but nodded.

They continued down the hallway, encountering no traps. They reached the doorway that the bird had flow through. It opened onto a courtyard large enough for a group of guards to practice fencing and archery. It was paved with the same black stone, but this stone was rough and uneven. Whether that was by design or the result of some attack on the Stronghold was unclear. There were small piles of unrecognizable debris scattered around the courtyard.

One of the piles still had a humanoid form to it. Smaller carrion birds were perched on or around the body. They turned towards the doorway to the courtyard in distressing unison. "Death birds," said Cerevin. "We should give them a wide berth, but they should leave us alone if we do."

"Agreed," said Nik.

"What are they eating?" asked Sarah. "It looks relatively fresh, which means there may be more of them around."

Cerevin nodded. He scanned the walls of the courtyard looking for other doorways and saw several, all with the same simple archway as this door. He looked up the corridor they had been following. There was a mostly open wooden door twenty feet further along.

"Let's keep going down this hallway and come back for the courtyard later," Cerevin said. "There seem to be more entrances later on."

The approached the door with caution, but it looked far more normal than anything else had in the entire Stronghold. The door was plain wood, not the black wood of the front gate. They pushed it open and saw what looked like bunk beds along one side of the corridor. There was a toilet in one corner.

Sarah half expected to find the beds filled with human skeletons, but they were empty. A few rats scurried out of the decaying bedding when they approached, but there was no other sign of life.

There was another door at the far end of the small barracks, this one also slightly ajar. As they approached the door, Cerevin froze and motioned for everyone else to do the same. He listened closely and heard movement from behind the door. It sounded like some kind of humanoid, not animals. Cerevin crept up to beside the door with a silence that Sarah had always envied.

He peered through the door and saw three kobolds. Two of them looked like they were fighting about something and the third was rooting around in some shelves full of cooking implements. They were fighting behind two long tables and benches and just in front of another curved doorway, probably leading out to the courtyard. Cerevin drew back from the door and mouthed the word "kobold" and held up three fingers.

Yargma frowned and held up three fingers with a questioning look. Cerevin tilted his head to one side and shrugged slightly while tilting his hand back and forth in a "more or less" gesture. Yargma rolled her eyes.

Cerevin moved up to beside the doorway, opposite the hinge, where he could push the door open and not expose himself right away. Nik moved up to the door, his bow in hand. His face was filled with more anger than Cerevin had ever seen on him. His skin was red and his nostrils flared as he drew back an arrow and nodded to Cerevin to open the door. He shrugged slightly. He turned to make sure everyone else was ready then he pushed the door open.

The two kobolds that were fighting stopped to look at the now open door. The arrow hit one kobold in the eye with such force that it flung his head backwards before his body dropped to the floor. The first of the pair cried out in surprise before stumbling backwards in fear. Nik's second arrow was already in the air. It whizzed past the kobold's head, shaving off a few whiskers, but otherwise missing him completely.

Cerevin swore, but not because Nik missed. Once the door was opened, he could see at least two more kobolds in the room. He said "two more" before slipping around the corner, sword drawn. Yargma laughed, feeling the rush of battle again, and charged in through the open door, sword drawn. Her top-knot of hair bobbed playfully as she ran.

Sarah followed Cerevin around the corner and Nik moved into the room behind Yargma, putting his bow away. The kobold nearest the door to the courtyard dropped the wooden spoon he was holding and ran towards the courtyard, trying to escape. Cerevin leaped across the space between him and the now clean-shaven kobold. The creature was still trying to get his wits about him enough to run away when Cerevin's sword stabbed into his gut, spilling blood and dropping him to his short knobby knees. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp.

The two kobolds that had been hidden behind the door were on the far side of the room, near a massive fireplace that looked like it had been cold for years. They wielded their short swords and gave the kobold equivalent of a battle cry. To Yargma it sounded like someone gargling rocks, but they rushed towards her with a scowl, teeth bared. She swung her sword deftly and killed one of the kobolds before it was close enough to reach her.

Krog moved towards the door to join the fight, but as he did so, he felt the hairs on his neck and arms stand on end. There was a tenseness in the air that had nothing to do with the kobolds and for the first time since they'd entered the Stronghold, Krog strongly felt magic at work. He looked around the dining hall at the battle, thinking there was a trap in the room.

Krog heard Simon whimper behind him. Krog started to say something to him, then realized with horror that the trap was behind him. Simon lunged forward, a small skinning knife in his hands. The blade caught Krog on the side, but his heavy robe took most of the damage. He reached down and grabbed Simon's outstretched arms in his large green hands. Krog might have been half-orc, but he was not used to using his muscles for anything heavier than lifting large books. Simon was a young farm boy.

They struggled with the knife for a few seconds, Simon's face contorting between rage and abject apology. While he was holding on to Simon, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on a spell. Whoever was controlling Simon knew that. Krog knew it was a mind control spell now that they were in physical contact. The sense of magic was all but dripping off the boy. Krog cried out for help before Simon could loose his hands.

Cerevin withdrew his blade from the fallen kobold and looked up in time to see one kobold fleeing through the arched doorway. He bounced off a different kobold on his way in from the courtyard in response to the ruckus. This kobold saw Cerevin and growled. But then his sight moved over Cerevin's shoulder and saw something that made his face pale and he let out a screech of pure terror.

Yargma looked up at the sound, not waiting to see the kobold she just killed hit the floor. She looked at the kobold by Cerevin and followed his line of sight. It was staring at Nik.

"Demon!" screeched the kobold. He turned to run back out the door, but Cerevin put his sword in the creature's path. It ducked under the blade with surprising speed, ignoring the slash Cerevin made on its large ear on the way out.

Sarah had been following Cerevin into the room when she heard Krog call out for help behind her. She turned to find Krog backing through the door to the dining hall, his hands fending off Simon's wicked little blade.

"Simon!" she cried, trying to wake him from his walking sleep. Something clicked in him, but it wasn't a return to reality. Simon stopped pushing towards Krog and used a technique Yargma had taught him to slip his hand out of someone's grasp. Realizing the blade was free, Krog stepped backwards, keeping his distance from Simon.

Simon grinned evilly and stepped towards Krog with purpose, but Sarah poked him in the ribs with the tip of her sword. It was enough to draw blood, but otherwise not deep. "Simon," she said, "look at me." He turned towards her and seemed annoyed at the new cut on his side. He said nothing but lunged at Sarah with the knife. She expected the attack and rolled with it, wrapping herself around Simon and letting them both fall to the ground.

As Simon was struggling to get free of Sarah's grasp, a screech filled the room that turned Sarah's blood cold. Krog whipped his head around in time to see the kobold scream and duck out of the room. He looked at Cerevin, then at Nik. An instant later, the focused magic in the room vanished. Krog felt a little dizzy at the sudden change and sat down on the nearby table.

Simon suddenly stopped struggling. After a few seconds he started whimpering and crying, apologizing quietly over and over again. Sarah held onto him, but tried to comfort him and reassure him it wasn't his fault.

Nik stood still, surveying the room. "Why did it call you that?" asked Cerevin. "How does it know you?" Yargma turned to face Nik, keeping her sword ready.

"Foolishness," said Nik in his most affable voice. "Must be some kind of crazy, is all." Cerevin drew closer, his sword still at the ready. Krog held his head, but looked up at Nik. "Didn't the bandits on the road call you 'demon', too?"

Nik's eyes flashed. "Oh, shoot, I can't remember. People say lots of nasty things," he said. He moved his hands ever so slightly closer to his blades.

"And the town, Light's End," said Cerevin, putting all the pieces together. "That crazy man was after you, not me. He said that those who followed King Menes were demons. I figured he meant those who look for the Stronghold." He moved closer and Yargma also started to close in on Nik. "But that's not what he meant at all, is it Nik? Who are you?"

Nik's eyes flashed and all the amiable gentleness went out of him as if he'd exhaled it or dropped a sheet from in front of him. He laughed, a cruel sound, and sneered at Cerevin. "You fools!" he cackled. "I've been playing you all along. And now you're here to die in a sacrifice to my lord and master, King Menes! The one, true king, he will appreciate my service in bringing him so many. The last group, they had pack animals, but they died just as well as the men. Anything for my King!"

Sarah let go of Simon and stood up, still gripping her short sword. Nik hadn't yet moved and it made Cerevin nervous. Sarah said, "King Menes is dead and has been for hundreds of years. Why do you still-"

"Silence, woman!" screamed Nik, facing Sarah as if she had just slapped him, eyes wide in surprise. "How dare you speak to me? Strutting around in a man's clothes, disgusting. You think I would travel with the mis-matched lot of you for any other reason than to sacrifice you?"

"But, we wanted to come here," said Simon.

Nik laughed again, throwing his head back. "Fools! Like lambs to the slaughter. It makes the sacrifice all the more fitting."

"How long?" asked Cerevin. "How long have you been watching us?"

"Forever," said Nik. "Our spies are everywhere. We know all. King Menes tells us all!" He cackled. Yargma had grown impatient and slashed at Nik with her enormous sword. He dodged without even looking. Yargma scowled and slashed again, but again he moved out of the way. He turned to Yargma and sneered. "My King protects me," he said softly. "Too bad I can't say the same for you."

Nik closed his eyes and concentrated. The hairs on Krog's neck went up again and the sudden focus of magic hit him like a fist. Krog cried out and doubled over, trying to catch his breath. Yargma and Sarah started slashing at Nik in a frenzy, but rather than dodge their attacks, they simply passed right through him. Sarah bent down to Krog. He croaked, "magic, lots of it. We need to get out of here."

Suddenly, there was a lot more noise in the room. The stone floor shook ever so slightly and dust rained down on them from the ceiling. "You hear that?" asked Cerevin, still trying to get at Nik.

"Yeah," said Sarah.

"Sounds like marching," said Yargma. She was right, but there was something odd about it.

"We need to go," said Sarah.

Nik opened his eyes. They were all black. "Too late," he said. From the arched doorway to the courtyard and from the door behind Nik, ghouls poured in. Their skin was grey and rotten looking, their clothes were tattered and torn. They might have been human once, but now their rheumy eyes looked at nothing, their movements commanded by an outside force. Cerevin and his compatriots fought off as many as they could, the ghouls' cold bony hands, scratching and pawing, grabbing hold of their living prey. The ghouls made unintelligible sounds of need as they struggled against their own to get to the living beings.

"Sleep now, my sacrifice. Soon, your lives will serve something better than yourselves." It was the last thing they heard before disappearing beneath the sea of grey bodies.

Sarah woke with a start, her head pounding. When she opened her eyes, there was almost no light at all, just shades of dark grey and black. She sat up and immediately wished that she hadn't. A wave of nausea sped through her and she moved to steady herself, discovering that her hands were manacled. She checked her feet and found they were similarly bound. She felt around the area, trying to feel if she was in a cell or somewhere larger. "Yargma," she whispered. "Are you here?"

"Yes," answered a miserable voice. "I feel sick."

"Me too," said Sarah. "Are the others here? Where are we?"

Cerevin's voice groaned from Sarah's right. She squinted in that direction, but could see nothing but shapes of dark on more dark. What a disaster. Sarah felt so stupid for not seeing Nik's signs earlier. His business had finished up early, and he just happened to find them in trouble along the road. It all seemed so obvious now.

"Uggh," moaned Cerevin. "I think I'm going to be ill."

Sarah decided to risk it and called out, "Simon? Krog? Are you here?" Something stirred off to Sarah's left, beyond where Yargma's voice had come from. Krog's groggy voice said, "I'm here... but I wish I wasn't."

Cerevin chuckled. "Still worth three silver a day?" Krog grunted. He said, "I'll let you know."

"Simon?" called Sarah again. She had seen him fall, buried under grey bodies, screaming and kicking, using every trick Yargma had taught him, but they were just too much. Sarah shuddered at the memory of being smothered in dead flesh.

A light appeared far away, a pinprick at first and then grew larger and brighter as it got closer. It illuminated the room and Sarah wished it hadn't. The walls were smooth and black, coated with something slimy. It was an enormous room with tall black, smooth pillars supporting the roof and anchoring heavy iron rings. Attached to the rings were the remains of humans and other humanoids. From the walls hung heavy iron implements of some sort. They looked extremely menacing and unpleasant. Sarah was sure that was the intended effect.

When the light grew close enough, Sarah could see that their manacles were attached to rings in one of the pillars. Simon was not with them. The voice from behind the light said, "bring the half-breed next." It wasn't Nik's voice.

"Where's Simon?" demanded Sarah. "What have you done with him? He's just a child."

The light turned toward Sarah and the voice said, "you'll see him in due time." Hooded figures moved out from behind the light and approached Krog. Yargma stood up to stop them, but dizziness and nausea swept over her again and she fell to her knees. The figures unlocked Krog from the pillar and pulled him to his feet. He protested this in the form of puking on the hooded figure nearest him.

The figure swore, but they pulled Krog along, half dragging him back behind the light. Sarah started to speak, but Cerevin said, "watch out for his death curse."

One of the figures whispered, "those aren't real, are they?" Another voice said, "don't be stupid. Take him up and prepare him for the ceremony."

"Is Krog getting married?" taunted Cerevin. "Aww, how beautiful. I'm afraid I didn't bring a gift." There was some struggling behind the light and it wobbled a little, making the shadows dance crazily along the floor and walls. The shifting shadows did nothing to ease their nausea.

The figures behind the light turned and left without another word. They were plunged into darkness again.

Several hours later, the nausea was wearing off. Yargma was trying to devise a means of levering the iron hooks out of the pillar. Sarah was trying to help her while Cerevin tried to pick the lock on his manacles with a twig he found lying on the floor. Each time it broke, he cursed. When it was finally too short to be used, he cursed a blue streak that neither Yargma or Sarah had heard out of him before.

"Monsters I was prepared for," he said reasonably. "Beasts, traps, and magic tricks. How could all my research fail to turn up this... this cult, or whatever it is." He cursed again. "I expected creepy abandoned ruins, not guys with a thing for dead kings!"

"Well," said Sarah, giving up on the iron hook for a while, "you said yourself that no one ever returned from here. Or, that if they did, they didn't talk about it. Maybe this is why. The ones that do return are part of the cult and the ones that don't..." She swallowed hard.

"This is much worse than Calavash," said Yargma. The last time they had been imprisoned was when they met Cerevin for the second time. They had been sentenced to death, but with Cerevin's help, the human jail couldn't hold them for long. Now they were out in the middle of the wastelands, far from anything resembling help.

They sat in silence for a while. Sarah finally said, "for what it's worth, Cerevin, I'm glad this place actually exists." Cerevin laughed bitterly. "Really? Why's that?"

"Well," said Sarah, "if we had never found it, never come to the Stronghold, we would have never heard the end of it. Three years was bad enough." Cerevin could hear her smiling.

"I suppose," he said.

A light appeared at the far end of the cavernous room and bobbed its way towards them. There were more footsteps this time. The light stopped and a voice said, "take the barbarian next, and be careful. Use the wand, if you have to."

Hooded figures came into the light and unlocked Yargma from the pillar. She backhanded one of the figures and kicked at another before an arc of lightning leapt from one of the figures and hit Yargma in the side. She howled in pain before her body went rigid and she fell to one knee. Two of the figures looked at each other in disbelief. One shock from the wand usually sent grown men sprawling unconscious from the pain.

Sarah lunged forward, swatting the wand from the figure's hand before headbutting him in the gut. He let out an "oof" and stumbled backwards. Sarah went with him, trying to ram him into his companion and free Yargma. Another arc of lightning came from behind the lamp. Pain that Sarah had never known ripped through her body and she screamed before blacking out. The man she was tackling also cried out in pain before going limp.

"You morons!" said the voice behind the light. "I told you to be careful. Now, somebody pickup Gary and get him out of here. And, bring the barbarian now before she recovers her fight."

The figures grabbed Yargma's upper arms and pulled her along with little more resistance. One of the figures picked up the fallen Gary and carried him back into the darkness.

A few hours later, Sarah woke up to the sounds of low voices chanting. She opened her eyes, blinking against the pain in her head and the relatively bright lights in the room.

"Great King Menes!" said Nik, his arms held in a V over the altar. "Hear our praise and accept our sacrifice this night."

Sarah sat up and took in the rest of the room. Yargma was on her left, still manacled, now chained to an iron ring set into the wall. Cerevin was on her right, similarly chained. There was a gash near his hairline that was swelling and had freshly dried blood on it. They were to the side of the room, facing the altar where Krog lay, awake but unmoving, as if trapped in a waking dream or drugged. The room was large, made of the same black stone they had grown used to. Half of the room was filled with hooded figures, chanting low and watching the altar.

Nik stood over the altar, dressed in a robe similar to the others, but rather than being plain black, it was embroidered with dark green and dark blue threads, forming runes and other patterns. To his left, Sarah could see Simon, dressed in a smaller black robe and holding a jeweled dagger. He looked interested in the proceedings and not at all scared.

"We bring you these eager souls to honor you and to protect your legacy here," Nik said. "As you have commanded, the mage is first. Let his magic reinforce your presence here."

Sarah turned to Cerevin. "We have to stop them," she said.

"I'm open to ideas," said Cerevin.

"Simon!" called Sarah over the chanting. The chanting quieted slightly, but did not stop. "Simon! Fight it! They're controlling your mind. You have to fight it."

Simon looked at her and tilted his head to the side as if trying to see if he recognized her. The robed figures chanted more loudly. Simon turned back to the altar without saying a word.

Yargma whispered, "I think we can pull this ring out of the wall. It does not feel as strong as the others. I need a diversion while I get some leverage behind it."

Nik continued, unfazed by Sarah's interruptions. "All magic will be consumed. All time will be stopped. All flesh will waste away. All praise will be unto you, Great King Menes!" He turned towards Simon and picked up the jeweled dagger. The runes on his robes glowed from within as soon as he touched it. The chanting picked up in pace as the figures fixed their gaze intently on the altar.

"One diversion coming up," said Cerevin. He stood up and gestured wildly at Sarah. "Take her instead! Nik! Listen to me. Do you really want to sully the altar with half-orc blood?" The chanting quieted and started to falter. "She's human and would make a better sacrifice!"

"Me?" shouted Sarah, jumping to her feet. "What about you? You're human and male! A much better sacrifice." She turned towards Nik. "You would not believe how much he talked about this place. He's at least as obsessed as you people."

The chanting died away. Nik turned toward Sarah, his eyes hard and his teeth bared. "Silence, woman!" He waved a hand toward her and turned back to the altar, raising the dagger high into the air.

Sarah tried to shout something in response, to distract him, but her voice didn't work. Yargma said, "almost there, do not stop now." Sarah's eyes went wide as she tried to shout and nothing happened. Cerevin turned to look at her then turned back to the hooded figures, now starting to murmur among themselves. "Yes! She's right!" shouted Cerevin. "I am a more fitting sacrifice than the half-breed. Take me instead!"

"Maybe we should kill him first," said one of the hooded figures. Nik paused, looking annoyed. "Yeah," said someone else, "we've never sacrificed a half-orc before. Maybe that will anger King Menes."

"Silence!" bellowed Nik. "I am the one that hears our King's words. I am the one upon whom he has bestowed magical powers. You will do as I say and I say to be silent while I kill this mage!"

With a creak of metal and sudden crumbling of stone, Yargma pulled the iron ring free from the wall. The mass of hooded figures turned toward the sound. Nik snarled, "don't let them get away!"

Cerevin nodded toward Krog and the three of them, still chained to the iron ring itself, rushed the altar. The hooded figures also rushed toward the altar, trying to intercept them. Nik lifted the jeweled dagger.

Just as he was beginning to bring the blade down, Nik cried out and crumpled to his left slightly. Simon was standing there, his hands still on the handle of the dagger that had punctured Nik's side. Nik swept his hand to the side and shoved Simon away from him. He brought the dagger down again, but stopped before the blade smashed into the empty stone altar in front of him.

Cerevin and Sarah had pulled Krog off the altar. Yargma put herself between them and the hooded figures now within arm's reach. She used the chains around her wrists as a weak flail and punched anyone who came into range. Several men had fallen back before Nik roared in rage and brought the jeweled dagger to bear on Cerevin, Sarah, and Krog.

He slashed downwards with the blade and Sarah fell backwards out of the way, just in time. Cerevin tried to wrap his shackles around Nik's outstretched arms, but missed. Simon crept around the back of the room, behind Nik's deadly dagger and put his hand on Krog's foot. He closed his eyes and said one of the magic words the old witch had taught him for spider and snake bites. He just hoped it would be enough to get rid of the poison in Krog's system.

Krog lay helpless in his own body, paralyzed by whatever they had given him hours before. He felt someone touch his foot and tried not to think about what he'd look like with just one leg. Then slow, strong warmth spread from the touch. It wasn't a pleasant warmth. Hot and fevered it spread through his body until it reached his head. Something was filling his lungs so Krog desperately turned on his side and coughed up the vile green fluid until it was gone.

Yargma had caused enough black eyes and bloodied noses that the men in robes were hesitant to approach her anymore. They were zealots, but they still had their sense of self-preservation. Nik was not so encumbered. He slashed mindlessly at Cerevin, wild with rage. Cerevin dodged most of the attacks. While he had Nik distracted, Sarah had moved behind Nik and laid a punch into the knife wound Simon had given him.

Nik howled in pain and slashed around behind him, just grazing Sarah's forearm as she withdrew from the punch. Cerevin wrapped his manacle chain around Nik's throat and Sarah wrapped hers around Nik's flailing arms. Krog coughed and sputtered behind them. Nik gasped for air, stretched between Sarah and Cerevin. He fell to his knees and looked pleadingly up at Cerevin.

Krog sat up and Simon made sure he wasn't otherwise injured. The turned towards the struggle behind them. Cerevin very slightly loosed the pressure on the chain around Nik's throat.

Nik's mouth twitched in a smile. He said, "for my King!" Krog felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

"Kill him now!" croaked Krog. "Death curse-" Before he could finish explaining, Sarah had pushed Nik's jeweled dagger into Nik's chest, half falling on it to get enough weight behind it. Nik's face went slack and the light from the runes in his robe grew blindingly bright for an instant before going out. The dagger suddenly grew very hot to the touch and Sarah let go of it. There was a low whooshing sound and Nik's body went limp.

The robed men had stopped attacking Yargma. They stood slack-jawed, horrified that someone had killed Feldas Nik. Without their leader, the men seemed confused and a little embarrassed. Some of them started to back away towards the door in the far end of the room.

Yargma feigned another swing at them and let loose a bellow that only Sarah would recognize as playful. The robed men turned and stumbled over each other trying to be the first one through the exit.

Krog set about finding the key for the shackles while Simon told them what had happened to him. "I woke up feeling really sick in a big bed. Nik came in the room and said he was going to give me a gift. He said he would make sure that no one could ever hurt me again and that I could be a great hero." He shifted uncomfortably at the memory. "I didn't believe him because of what he said before those scary grey people came." He actually shuddered at the memory. No one blamed him for that. It wasn't something any of them wanted to remember.

"Anyway, after I said I wanted to go and find you again, that's when the voices started in my head." Sarah and Cerevin exchanged glances.

"It was like the time I was dreaming, where I felt pushed outside my body with someone else in control."

Sarah said, "but the times that happened before, you were able to fight it, just a little bit. This time, you were..."

Simon looked confused. Cerevin said, "are you sure you didn't give in to the mind control this time? Would you have tried to stop Nik if we hadn't created a distraction?"

Simon looked sad that no one believed him, but proud of his solution nonetheless. He shook his head. "I remembered something that Yargma had said. She said that convincing your enemy that you were going to win was half the fight. I thought maybe if I turned that around... I mean, I thought if I convinced the mind control that it had won, I could surprise it."

Krog had returned with the key and was unlocking the manacles. He said, "Simon is telling the truth. I could feel the magic pushed out of him just before he picked up the dagger to use on Nik. Nik was just a little too distracted at the time to really care."

Once free of the chains, they set about trying to find their packs and weapons. Krog took the jeweled dagger in his hands. It felt cold to the touch and he felt a little weaker. He dropped it in surprise.

"We should take that dagger," he said. "But, someone else needs to carry it."

"Why?" asked Cerevin.

Krog shook his head. "I can't say exactly, but there's definitely magic on it. We need to understand it before using it. If nothing else, we can sell it."

"Great, a cursed dagger," said Cerevin. "Why not." He picked it up and put it in his pack. To him, the dagger's handle felt warm.

The room with the big bed that Simon described was behind a curtain draped over the wall behind the altar. There were no windows in the room, but there were oil lamps burning. They found their weapons in a small room off the bedroom. It was stuffed with the blades and shields of the previous victims to Nik's madness.

Cerevin gave in to Yargma's need to evaluate all the weapons. He figured they needed a break anyway and there was a bed here and everything. Krog and Cerevin riffled through the papers they found in Nik's desk and found a half-finished letter to a name that Cerevin recognized. He scowled and folded the paper, sticking it in his pack without a word.

Simon lay on the big bed, claiming he was too tired to fall asleep, and was snoring a few minutes later. Cerevin and Krog watched Sarah and Yargma play fight with some of the weapons.

After a few minutes, Krog said, "where do you suppose we are?"

"Still in the Stronghold," said Cerevin. "That much I'm pretty sure of." Krog nodded in agreement. "Other than that, I'm not sure. My guess would be underground. The size of the Stronghold at the surface wasn't large enough to hold these rooms and the enormous cavernous room with the pillars."

"You saw the stairs when they brought you up?" asked Krog. Cerevin nodded. "Where those stairs let out I could see another, curved stairway on the far side of that room. There was magic there. It was slightly less chaotic than the ambient feel, so it's probably worth investigating."

"Could it have been a magical trap or lock?"

Krog shrugged. "Maybe, I didn't get a good feel for it. But, where there are locks..."

"There's usually something worth locking up," said Cerevin.

"That's the hope," agreed Krog.

Yargma strode over to Cerevin wearing some tarnished silver chainmail over her bare chest and a circlet on her head that looked like a very short crown, also silver. She grinned. "We can go now," she declared. "I have taken what I want from that room."

Sarah had traded her ragged coat for a worn, but whole, leather one. She also held a small leather bag in her hand. Cerevin pointed at it and said, "what's in there?"

"I'm not sure," said Sarah. "It's trinkets of some kind, but they looked interesting." She walked to the desk and dumped out the trinkets between Cerevin and Krog. They were small, metal, and very intricate. The pieces varied in shape from square to almost completely round. Cerevin picked up one of the cherry sized pieces and studied it.

"I've never seen writing like this before," he said. "Krog, do you recognize it?" Krog shook his head.

"These are completely new to me."

Cerevin shrugged. "Alright, keep them and we'll ask around in Dreardon when we get back."

They woke Simon and went back out to the sacrifice room. It was still deserted. They avoided Nik's body and left the room through the back door. The hallway beyond the door was lit with oil lamps every few dozen yards, leaving pools of inky shadow. Cerevin led the group back the way they had been brought up from the cavernous room, down the hall and to the left.

The room with the staircase was otherwise devoid of contents or decoration. The spiral stairs were black stone about halfway to the ceiling, then they changed to a translucent white stone near the top. There was no railing and the ceiling was surprisingly high for an underground room. Cerevin stopped in the middle of the room and let Krog examine it.

He approached it cautiously, feeling for traps. He shook his head. "It's like it was before: there's magic here, but it's only slightly more focused than the surrounding area." He looked up the stairs but saw only darkness above the level of this room.

"Well," said Cerevin, grabbing and oil lamp from the wall, "there's only one way to find out what's up there. Worst case, it's the way out."

"No," said Yargma, "worst case it kills us all."

Cerevin's eyes twinkled. "Okay, fine. Next to worst case, it's the way out." He smiled and started ascending the stairs, holding the lamp in one hand and his sword in the other. Sarah noticed that he held the sword with the tip well above his head so that anything triggered by their presence would hit the sword first before it hit his neck. Sarah went next, then Simon, Krog, and Yargma brought up the rear.

Once they passed the ceiling, the walls around the stairs closed in completely. The black stone walls made it feel like they were being crushed. After they had been climbing for a while, Simon asked, "is it much further to the top?"

Cerevin looked up, but could only see the next turn of stairs above them and nothing more. "I can't see the top," said Cerevin. "But I don't think we were that far underground." They climbed for several more minutes before Yargma said, "this is not right."

Krog closed his eyes in thought and a few seconds later said, "Sarah, give me one of those trinkets you found."

She opened the small pouch, took one out, and handed it to Krog. He set it on the stair he was standing on, off to the side nearest the wall. "Okay," he said, "we can go now."

"You're just going to leave it there?" asked Sarah.

"If I'm right," said Krog, "we'll encounter it again shortly."

Cerevin started climbing again. The walls here felt cool to the touch. After a few minutes of climbing, he saw something shiny a few stairs above them. He stopped and Sarah picked up the trinket. Simon's eyes got wide. "How did you do that?" he asked.

Cerevin turned to Krog. "I've heard of this trap before," he said.

Krog nodded. "It's well known now, but it was probably new when this place was built."

"There is only one set of stairs, but the end is the beginning again, so you could climb forever and never reach the top."

"Then how do we get out?" asked Yargma.

"There's a door along the wall somewhere," said Krog.

"We just have to find it," said Cerevin, nodding. "Look around the wall near your step for anything unusual, cracks in the wall, changes in temperature, texture, things like that." They started feeling around the walls, searching as Cerevin had said, but found nothing.

"Well," said Krog, "let's move up a few steps and try again. There could be more than a few real steps here." They moved up and continued searching, again finding nothing.

The third time they moved up, Cerevin said, "I think I found it. The stone here is cold all around, but warm in this small area by my step."

Sarah felt the stone and pushed on it gently. "But, if it's still just stone, how do we get through it?"

"Krog, what can we try? It doesn't look like a physical door here."

Krog closed his eyes, limiting distractions while he searched his memory. "Let me see, stories have the doors as hidden, magically locked, illusory, decoy, and portals. You're sure there's no panel to activate it, like there was at the front gate?"

Sarah and Cerevin felt all around the wall, but found nothing. "Pretty sure," said Cerevin. Simon watched them and looked miserable. He was starting to get scared that they'd never escape. But he had said he wasn't a whiner, so he swallowed hard and said nothing.

"If it's an illusion," said Krog, "we would be able to move through it, so long as we believed it was an illusion. If it was a decoy, it wouldn't be hidden." Cerevin turned away from the wall and leaned over to set the lamp on the step just above his. When he did so, something moved in the wall. Cerevin froze.

"Portals," continued Krog, "would be more like illusions, which leaves two possibilities: it's magically locked or it's not a door after all."

"Did you hear that?" asked Sarah. Cerevin nodded. Sarah started feeling around the wall again and the slightest crack had appeared in the stone where there wasn't one before. It lined up perfectly with the edge of warm and cold on the stone wall.

"There's a small crack here in the wall now," said Sarah. "Whatever you did, do it again."

Cerevin straightened up and faced the wall again. "All I did was turn around and bend over. It can't be the weight on the step where I set the lamp. We've walked over these steps a dozen times and would have triggered it by now."

"What is going on?" called Yargma from several steps down. "Did you find a way out of this stair?" She was hunched over uncomfortably in the small space.

"And it's probably not the light because we've had the light here the whole time," said Sarah.

Krog said, "is there something in your pack that would do it? Like a lode stone?"

Cerevin brightened. "No, but there's that jeweled dagger you told me to take with us." He took off his pack and retrieved the dagger. The sound in the wall grew stronger as he held the dagger close. The small crack grew into a line, then into a gap. The movement reached some critical point and a door shaped hole appeared in the wall as some of the stone slid back and out of the way. The noise stopped, but Cerevin kept the dagger close to the door, just in case it would close again.

Sarah reached for the lamp and shone it into the door way. There was about five feet of smooth stone passageway, then there seemed to be a small room. "I can see some faint light and a piece of tapestry in the room beyond the passageway," she said.

Cerevin nodded. "Alright, you go first and let us know when it's safe to come through," he said. "I'll come last to hold the door open for everyone."

Sarah handed the lamp back to Cerevin and ducked through the small passageway. She stepped out into the room beyond and quickly looked around. "It looks like a stair landing," she called to Cerevin.

"Great, more stairs," he muttered.

"There's no one here," called Sarah. "Go ahead and send everyone through." Her voice echoed slightly in the large room. The stairs were made of the translucent stone of the spiral stairway they just left, but they were wide and flat. It looked like it had been a grand staircase once. The tapestries were now dusty, faded, and moldy. The walls were the same black stone as elsewhere in the Stronghold. Looking down the stairs, Sarah could see expensive looking sconces set into the wall and the banister, now empty of any lamps.

It was quiet and cool on the steps, but Sarah felt uneasy. She now knew that the supposedly deserted Stronghold was home to some crazy cultists, but she expected it to feel more dead than it did. There was something in the air, maybe a sound, maybe just her imagination, but the place felt occupied.

Simon and Krog emerged from the passageway onto the stairs behind Sarah. Behind them, Sarah could hear the strained sounds of Yargma squeezing through the opening. In the wide open of the world, Sarah tended to forget her friend's size, but in the confines of the passageways and definitely human-sized building, her large build became obvious.

Cerevin came through last, backing through the opening, holding the dagger close to the center of the passage, willing it not to close on him. Once through, he put the dagger away and looked around. "So," he said, "shall we go up or down?"

Krog said, "there's definitely magic above us. Below, it's harder to tell."

Yargma grunted. "Up is unlikely to contain the vast quantities of gold said to be stored here. It would be too heavy."

Cerevin nodded at both of them. "Then I propose we go up first, see what's there, then come back down for the gold." He took the lamp from Sarah and carefully made his way across the landing and up the stairs. The tapestries muffled the sounds of their steps, Yargma's new chainmail shirt clinking slightly as she stepped.

At the fourth landing, the stairs ended. There was a door on the landing, made of black stone, but polished to a bright shine. Krog could feel the magic coming off the door like a strong wind.

"It's trapped," Krog said.

Cerevin nodded and said, "I would have been surprised had it not been trapped after that long lead up." Other than being shiny, the door was unremarkable. It had a small bowl cut into one side where a door knob would have been, but there was no knob. The inside of the bowl was matte like the walls surrounding the door.

Krog approached the door cautiously and slowly extended his hand towards it. A few inches from the door, he stopped suddenly. "Everyone should back up now," he said. "Cerevin, get the dagger."

Cerevin got out the dagger and stepped up behind Krog. "If I'm right," said Krog, "that dagger absorbs magic."

"How does that work?" asked Cerevin.

"If we survive the explosion that's coming," said Krog, "I'll explain it to you."

Simon, Sarah, and Yargma took a few steps further back from the door after Krog's comment about the explosion. Cerevin raised an eyebrow and offered the dagger to Krog.

"Oh, no," he said, "I'm not going to touch that thing. Hold it up with as much of it facing the door as possible."

"Did you trip the trap?" asked Cerevin.

Krog chuckled. "Fair question, but, no, I didn't trip it... yet. I have effectively armed the trap and when I try to disarm it, it may explode."

"Let me know when you start trying to disarm it so I know when to brace myself," said Cerevin.

"I already started," Krog said. "Now, please be quiet and let me concentrate."

Krog stood completely still, his eyes closed in concentration. After a few of the longest minutes Simon had ever lived through, Krog's left hand made a sudden sequence of motions and a low sound came from the door. Krog shifted positions and he made a few more motions, scowling. The sound increased in volume. It sounded like stone grating on other stone, something like the passageway downstairs.

Krog's hand motions suddenly stopped and his right hand faltered. Cerevin tensed and Yargma shielded Sarah and Simon behind her. Krog's hand shook and after a few seconds, he opened his eyes and said, "crap."

He started to step backwards, but the force of the explosion pushed him several steps back and knocked him flat on his back. Cerevin squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the impact. The invisible force made him stumble backwards and the dagger's handle became extremely hot. He held on, recognizing the effect it was having on the explosion.

A few seconds later, Krog sat up. Cerevin cried out and dropped the dagger. His hand was bright red where it had touched the dagger's handle. Yargma blinked at turned to look at the muted little explosion area.

"That was it?" she demanded.

Krog's hands shook as he propped himself against the wall by the door. He nodded. "I was able to disarm most of the trap, but it got really tricky at the end and I missed a step."

Simon went to Cerevin to examine his hand. He said to Krog, "how do you disarm part of a trap."

Sarah went to Krog's side to make sure he was alright. Krog said, "magical traps aren't like physical traps. They're more like big puzzles. As you unravel more of the puzzle, the power is released slowly and safely, so there's less contained in the trap."

Cerevin let Simon bandage his hand. He turned to Krog and said, "how big would that explosion have been if we'd tripped it immediately."

"It would have leveled the stairs for sure, possibly much more than that."

Cerevin tested the bandage and thanked Simon. After Krog had recovered his breath and composure, Cerevin said, "the door is still closed, I see, with no obvious means of opening it."

Krog nodded. "It needs a magical door knob."

Cerevin raised his eyebrows. "Is that something you can do?"

Krog nodded wearily. "In a little while, yes. I need to recover some concentration before I can make it work."

"Can you tell me how a dagger can be made to absorb magic?" said Cerevin, eying the dagger somewhat suspiciously after the aborted explosion.

"Have you ever heard of 'magebane'?" asked Krog.

"I have," said Simon. "The old witch lady told me about it. She said that it was potent, evil stuff."

"Yes and no," said Krog. "It's not inherently evil, but it is potent."

"What is it?" asked Sarah. "Is it a plant or a rock or something like that?"

Simon nodded. "It can be any of those forms, even living things." He said the last part as he leaned forward, as if imparting a sensitive secret. He nodded gravely and leaned back. "It's true."

Krog smiled. "Yes, it can exist in many forms. Just like there are beings in the world that are made of magic, like faeries, there are beings that are made of anti-magic. They absorb magic like faeries emminate it. And, like there are rocks and plants imbued with magic, there are rocks and plants imbued with anti-magic."

"I've never heard of anti-magic before," said Cerevin.

Yargma chuckled. "I doubt mages wanted to tell anyone about it."

Cerevin looked at her. Krog said, "she's right. Mages discovered anti-magic long ago, but why would we tell anyone there was something that could thwart our only gift? Even 'magebane' has a mythical and rare sound to it."

"How common is it?" asked Sarah.

Krog shrugged. "Like faeries, it depends on the region. But, naturally occurring anti-magic in rocks is difficult to find. To find it in gems is almost impossible." He nodded towards the jeweled dagger on the floor. "I'm willing to bet that dagger is almost pure anti-magic."

Cerevin nodded. He looked at the dagger then felt the walls. They were warm, as he'd come to expect here. "So heat is given off when the anti-magic absorbs magic?"

Krog tilted his head to one side. "Yes, but performing magic can also give off heat. Just knowing that something is unusually warm doesn't tell you anything. To me, something with anti-magic will feel cold to the touch as it pulls the magic out of me."

"It can do that?" asked Sarah.

Krog nodded. "Anti-magic cancels out magic on contact. If you have magic in you, it will consume it."

Simon shuddered. "No wonder the old lady was so afraid of it. She told me how to recognize it and told me over and over to stay away from it."

Cerevin poked the dagger's handle. It had returned to a normal temperature. He picked it up and examined it. "At least we know what the curse is now." He put the dagger in his pack and looked at the closed, shiny black door beside Krog.

"Do you think you're ready to open the door now?" he asked Krog.

Krog nodded. "I guess so," he said, standing up. He focused on the small bowl cut into the door. After a minute, he extended his hand towards it and a bright yellow doorknob glowed in the bowl. He gripped the ethereal globe, turned it, and pulled it slowly toward himself.

Sounds of stone grating on stone came from all around the door. A few seconds after the sound started, the door slowly opened. Krog continued pulling and the door continued opening. When the gap was big enough to admit everyone, Krog stopped pulling.

He dropped his hand. "The door should stay open so long as we're inside unless we close it again." Krog paused. "That is, if this door behaves anything like the doors I've read about. It's the first one I've encountered that wasn't one of mine."

"That's reassuring," muttered Sarah.

Cerevin held the lamp up to the door opening. Beyond the door was a large room, crammed with regalia. They stepped through the doorway and took in the baroque decorations. Compared the stark simplicity of the staircase leading up to the room, it was a jumble of colors and curves. There was a huge throne in the room, intricately carved from a black wood and upholstered in deep red velvet. It was draped with shimmering gold fabric. The walls were lined with tapestries, but unlike those in the stair, these were clean and vivid.

There was a thick plush carpet on the floor and a variety of other chairs and pillows in the room. There was even a small bust on a marble pedestal near the throne.

"Wow," said Simon, awe evident in his voice.

Sarah spotted a few lamps on the walls. She pointed them out to Cerevin who went and lit them from his lamp. The room filled with light and every surface seemed to shimmer and shine.

"This is pretty amazing," said Krog.

"It will be more amazing if there's something of value here," said Cerevin. "I just hope King Menes wasn't into guarding the mundane, just to throw people off the scent."

There didn't seem to be any other doors in the room. They started searching all the furniture and walls, looking for hidden doors and anything of value. Obscured by a hanging tapestry on the right wall, there was an extremely large mirror with an intricate gold frame. Cerevin pulled back the tapestry and examined it. The sides of the frame featured naked human bodies undulating in either pain or ecstacy, it was hard to tell. Along the top and bottom of the frame, the figures were bowed toward the center where a single clothed figure stood.

Krog joined Cerevin in looking at the mirror. After a few moments he said, "well that's disturbing."

Cerevin nodded. "I'm just going to assume the mirror is enchanted," he said and looked at Krog for confirmation. Krog nodded.

"You didn't touch it yet, right?" asked Krog.

"I'm not that foolish," said Cerevin, smiling.

"What did you guys find?" asked Sarah, ducking under a bit shimmering gold fabric.

Yargma was examining the throne while Simon sat on it, kicking his feet, but still trying to look regal. The carvings on the throne were ornate, but indistinct. After determining that there was nothing interesting about the throne, Yargma shrugged and joined Cerevin and the others in looking at the mirror. Simon hopped off the throne. As he did, he felt something warm pass over him. He stopped and looked back at the throne. Simon screamed.

There in the throne, an ethereal figure sat, his skin decayed and pulling away from his bones. His dark misty clothes were dusty and tattered. The mirror forgotten, the party circled around the throne to look at the ghostly figure. It's eyes were closed, which Cerevin considered a blessing.

"Where did that come from?" asked Sarah.

Simon shook his head. "I- I don't know. I was just sitting there and when I got up, I felt warm, and there it was." Sarah put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort the boy.

"What is it?" asked Yargma.

"It looks like a shade," said Krog. After a few puzzled looks, he explained, "like a ghost, but only a small remnant of a living soul, usually the strongest part of the person."

"King Menes, I presume," said Cerevin.

Krog nodded. "That seems likely. If the stories about him are true, we're probably lucky that it's not awake."

"Why's that?" asked Sarah.

"According to legend, the strongest part of King Menes' personality was his paranoia and obsession with guarding his treasure. It would almost certainly be hostile towards us, seeing us as invaders," said Krog.

"I didn't realize that shades could sleep," said Cerevin, examining the misty figure.

Suddenly, the figure jerked, like it realized it was falling asleep. Its grey eyelids opened and perfectly normal, kindly looking eyes looked out into the room, coming to focus on Cerevin. He took a few steps back from the throne and tried not to look directly into its eyes. Simon jumped slightly and stepped a little closer to Sarah and Yargma. Krog raised an eyebrow, but started preparing a spell, just in case.

The shade lowered its arm and swiveled its head around, looking at the room. "Oh," it said in an eerie whisper of a voice, "I'm sorry. I think I fell asleep for a moment." It looked at each of the party in turn and finally said. "I don't think I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance," it said and smiled, the decayed skin of its cheek, showing ghostly teeth and bone beneath. Simon shuddered and looked away. "I'm King Menes," it said, holding a bony hand to its chest. "And you are?"

Cerevin said, "Cerevin Ges, your majesty." He bowed deeply before the shade. "May I introduce my companions." He turned to the others, encouraging them to play along without saying a word. "Yargma-" she nodded her head to the shade, "Simon Geld-" he bowed deeply, just like his father had taught him, "Sarah Taylor-" she nodded her head, "and Krog." Krog bowed to the shade and said, "it's an honor, your majesty."

The shade smiled broadly and looked back to Cerevin. It looked pleased. "Excellent," it said. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Your majesty," said Cerevin, "we are travelers from distant lands. Word of your greatness has reached far and wide. We come seeking your council and your blessing."

"Indeed," said the shade, sitting back slightly. "Council and blessing," it said. "Nothing more?"

Cerevin held his most convincing smile. "Of course not, your majesty. We are honest travelers seeking only knowledge and wisdom in your magnificent presence."

The shade smiled a little at the compliment and examined Cerevin for a moment. Finally, it nodded slightly and said, "very well, who among you is the most learned?"

Cerevin gestured toward Krog. He stepped forward and bowed deeply. He said, "I am, your majesty."

The shade turned to Krog and said, "and what is your area of study?"

Krog's eyes flicked toward Cerevin, wondering if it was wise to answer truthfully. He said, "magic, your majesty."

The shade brightened and became slightly more solid looking for a moment. "Ah! Another seeker of the magical arts. How wonderful!" Cerevin let out the breath he was holding.

Krog smiled and said, "yes, your majesty. Your mastery of the magical arts is widely known. I would be humbled if you would share some of that knowledge with me."

The shade adjusted in his chair. "Yes, of course. I do love a good spell." He made a small motion over the arm of his chair and then pulled a scroll case from thin air. Simon's eyes got wide with amazement. The shade offered the case to Krog. Krog approached the throne, his eyes averted, showing respect to the king. He went to one knee and held his hands open before the shade. It placed the scroll in Krog's outstretched hands with a benevolent smile.

Krog stood, his head bowed, and said, "my deepest thanks, your majesty." He bowed deeply and stepped backwards to his place next to Sarah.

The shade looked satisfied. It smiled and said, "now, to the blessing." It stood and Cerevin backed away, respectfully, to give it room. The shade raised its hands over the group and closed its eyes. "Go now, back to your distant lands, carrying my blessing-"

It paused and opened its eyes. It turned to Cerevin and said, "do you have something unusual in your pack?"

Cerevin's smile didn't falter. "Unusual, your majesty?"

The shade lowered its arms and its kindly, human eyes started to glow from within. "Yes," it said, "something of mine?"

"Of course not, your majesty!" said Cerevin in mild shock. "It is only your blessing we seek." Sarah gripped the handle of her sword.

The shade's eyes now glowed brightly and the human form looked more withdrawn and skeletal. It fixed its glowing eyes on Cerevin and screamed in a high-pitched, windy voice, "liar! How dare you seek my blessing under false pretenses!" The shade lifted off the ground, its feet turning to ghostly mist as it extended its arms toward Cerevin.

Yargma drew her sword and slashed through the shade as it moved suddenly and silently towards Cerevin, its face a drawn, scowling mask of rage. The blade moved through the mist and out the other side without slowing down. The shade ignored it completely. Cerevin stepped backwards and to the side, avoiding the shade's grasp.

"Get down!" shouted Krog, his hand held out to his side, light gathering around it. Yargma spun out of the way, towards the throne and Sarah and Simon dove towards the door of the room. A crackle of lightning sounded from Krog's hand and he pointed it at the shade. Its ethereal form distorted and flickered as it was pulled towards Krog's outstretched hand. A fog of light surrounded the shade and it turned its glowing eyes and hideous scowl on Krog.

"You dare?" it rasped, a deep, grating undertone now joining its windy voice. It focused on Krog and seemed to struggle to get nearer to him.

Krog's voice sounded strained with effort. "The dagger," he said, "use it to contain the shade." Cerevin plucked the dagger from his pack in a fluid movement, wielding it as a holy symbol, keeping the shade at bay. The shade pushed forward, making sounds of effort as it moved slowly and jerkily toward Krog. A bead of sweat ran down Krog's green face, his hand still outstretched. His legs trembled and he took a step backwards, toward the mirror.

Cerevin stepped forward to get the dagger closer to the shade and Krog's face started to pale. "Wait," he croaked, "it's not-"

"It's not helping, is it?" mocked the shade. It let out a raspy laugh over a deep, stone grating sound. "You fool! Did you think I'd let that much anti-magic near me without taking some precautions?"

Cerevin cried out in pain as searing heat rushed through the handle. Instead of hitting the floor, it was suspended in the air. The shade turned to it and gripped it. Its form grew brighter and more solid as it did so. It turned it head back to Krog, sneering.

"Lovely, isn't it?" The shade turned the dagger over in its grey hands. "I give this to my most loyal follower so that they may serve me, even in death." The shade looked at it and its face hardened. "If you have it now, then my loyal Feldas Nik is dead. Pity. He was completely loyal, guiding sacrifices here for my consumption, drawing out their magic, channeling it to me through his rituals."

"That's right," said Cerevin, trying to draw the shade's attention. "We killed Nik, and he begged for his life, renouncing your name." The shade whipped its head toward Cerevin.

"Liar!" it howled. "I watch this world constantly! I know what really happened. I am thousands of years old, child. You can't fool me!"

When the shade turned its attention to Cerevin, the pressure on Krog had lightened. Its last comment made Krog's sweaty brow lighten. He mouthed "keep it busy" to Cerevin then started rummaging through the pockets of his robe, searching for something.

"Fool you?" mocked Cerevin. "Why would we want to fool you? We just want your treasure, you- you lifeless, vengeful idiot! You're not even half the man King Menes was." The shade howled with rage, its form glowing bright yellow, its head tossed back in anger. The room shook with the force of the cry, the heavy tapestries shuddering along the walls.

Its voice, fully formed and low now, bellowed, "no one shall have my treasure! Die, mortal!" The shade fixed its yellow eye lights on Cerevin and twitched its hand.

Cerevin's body tensed and his back arched. He cried out and fell to the floor in agony. Sarah glanced at Krog who was still searching for something. She called to the shade, "we told everyone we know about how to find this place." The shade swiveled its head to look at her. "There will be hundreds of people coming soon to haul away your precious treasure."

"Liar!" shouted the shade. "Why do you mortals try my patience so?" It twitched its hand again and Sarah fell to the ground, crying out in pain.

Krog finally found what he was looking for and pointed it at the shade. It was a small stick, carved with runes, about three inches long. Smoky blue light slowly worked its way toward the shade, wrapping around its head.

Simon and Yargma picked up where Sarah had left off, taunting the shade and trying to distract it from whatever it was Krog was doing. But the shade seemed to have lost track of what it was doing. The scowl on its faced turned from anger to confusion. Cerevin and Sarah were released from the pain and lay panting on the ground. Even Simon and Yargma's hoots and hollers didn't seem to register with the shade.

"What was I doing?" it asked quietly, its voice back to a raspy whisper. It turned around toward Krog. Yargma's eyes widened and prepared to goad the shade further, but Krog shook his head. The jeweled dagger dropped from the air and clattered to the ground. The shade didn't seem to notice. It said, "well, that was strange. I thought I sensed mortals here." It looked around, looking through the people in the room without seeing them. It dropped to the ground and its smoky form had feet again.

The shade walked slowly toward the mirror, misty and decayed, its head wrapped in the pale grey-blue light from Krog's tiny stick. Krog stepped out of its path. The shade stepped serenely from the room and walked into the mirror, disappearing.

"Is it gone?" whispered Yargma. Krog nodded.

"It should be under the influence of that spell for a while, long enough for us to get out of here."

"Good plan," she said.

Sarah and Cerevin were recovering. "What was that?" asked Simon. "It looked like the ghost couldn't see us any more."

Krog nodded and helped Sarah to her feet while Yargma did the same for Cerevin. Krog smiled proudly and said, "when it said it was thousands of years old, I remembered that shades can't learn. Since they're effectively ghosts, they only know what they knew when they're created."

"How did knowing that help?" asked Cerevin, his voice shaking slightly.

"Magic knowledge has increased since King Menes was a great mage," said Krog. "I used some of that newer knowledge to trick him into forgetting that we were ever here."

"Well done," said Cerevin.

"Yes, and thank you," said Sarah. Krog bowed his head to her.

"Now," he said, "I suggest we get out of here before the spell wears off."

"What about the dagger?" asked Yargma, eyeing the short blade.

"Bring it," said Krog. When Cerevin and Sarah started to protest he held up his hand. "Yes, it probably funnels magic to the shade, and yes, that particular ability almost got us killed, but it does remove magic from the immediate vicinity, which may still come in handy." Yargma shrugged and picked up the blade.

They left the throne room through the door they had come in and started back down the broad staircase. Cerevin thought the tapestries lining the walls looked brighter than when they went in. He shook his head. It must just be the shock good King Menes had given him.

They walked down the stairs, passed the secret door to the never-ending spiral staircase, and down two more flights before they saw another door. This door was black wood and had a ring handle. After examining the door for traps, Cerevin pronounced it safe and Yargma pulled it open.

"Yet more stairs," said Cerevin. "Why not?"

They started down the stairs. The stairs descended several steps then rounded a corner down to what looked like a stone hallway.

"It could be worse," said Krog. "I've read of some trap stairs where they turn into a slide when you're halfway down them."

"Do not say things like that," said Yargma.

"Especially when standing on stairs in creepy dungeon that we know is haunted by at least one madman, possibly more," said Sarah.

Krog shrugged. "Just thought you should know."

They made it to the bottom of the stairs without anything turning into a slide. The stone walls here were made of the lighter colored native stone. Sconces were lit along the walls, casting light into little pools.

At the end of the short hallway, it teed. They stood at the intersection and looked in both directions in turn.

"Well, the path to the left looks shorter," said Cerevin.

"I'll go check," said Simon brightly and darted off in that direction.

"Simon, wait," called Cerevin, but he was already disappearing around a corner.

Cerevin turned to look at Krog in exasperation.

"Don't look at me," said Krog. "I argued for leaving him behind when he begged to go with us."

There was a muted cry from down the hall. Sarah drew her sword and started after the sound. She got to the corner in the hallway and skidded to a stop.

"Incoming," she called. Simon was running towards her, three large kobolds just behind him. He had a look of terror on his face. Sarah caught him when he stumbled changing directions in the hall and half-pushed him back towards Cerevin. She slashed at the nearest kobold, hoping to scare them, before turning and running after Simon.

When the kobolds turned the corner and saw Yargma squeezed into the corridor and Cerevin with his sword drawn, they slowed their pace. Krog pulled a small box out of his robe held it towards them. He tugged on a string coming out of the box and there was a loud popping noise. Streams of color shot out of the box and fluttered through the air. Krog said, "boo!" The kobolds reversed course with a yelp and headed back the way they had come.

When he was sure the kobolds were gone, Cerevin put his sword away and looked at Krog. "That wasn't magic," he said, smiling.

Krog tilted his head to one side. "You may be right about that," he admitted. "Effective, though, you must admit."

Cerevin's face hardened when he turned to Simon.

"I- I'm sorry," said Simon. "I just wanted to help."

"You are helping," said Cerevin, "with your healing words and good bandages. Leave the running headlong into monsters to us, okay?"

Simon nodded.

"Now," said Cerevin, "other than kobolds, was there anything down that hallway?"

Simon shook his head.

"They must have come from somewhere," observed Yargma.

Cerevin nodded. "I'm betting there's a secret or hidden door down there somewhere. Still, kobolds are squatters, not treasure seekers, so it's doubtful the treasure is down there." He turned and looked down the right-hand hallway. "Which leaves this direction to search."

They started down the hallway, Cerevin keeping alert for any traps. After about sixty yards, there was an opening to the left. The passage also kept going straight ahead for a ways. Down the passage to their left, there was a door, standing open.

"Does this look familiar to anyone?" asked Cerevin.

"All these cramped walls look the same," grumbled Yargma. "I liked the big stairway from before."

Cerevin said, "wait here for a second." He trotted off down the corridor to their left, pausing about halfway to the door. He turned to his right and chuckled, then continued to the door. He was only there a few seconds before he came back.

"Well?" asked Sarah. "What is it?"

"This is the passageway we came out of after killing Nik and running off his followers." He gestured to the hallway. "About halfway up there's a door with a spiral stair in the corner. Sound familiar."

"Well that narrows our options quite a bit," said Krog.

Cerevin led the party down the original hallway. After about thirty feet, the hallway turned to the right. After another thirty feet, there were stairs descending to an iron door.

"Iron," said Sarah. "Maybe we're getting closer."

"Perhaps," agreed Cerevin. He examined the door for any traps. Finding none, he put his ear to the door and listened. There was some faint scratching, but nothing else. "There's something alive in there, but I can't tell what it is."

The door looked like solid iron and was cross barred twice from side to side and once from top to bottom. One of the bars was broken, as if it had been pried off from the outside.

Yargma said, "I can remove the bars."

Cerevin held up a hand. "I can't help but think that perhaps this door serves two purposes."

"To keep people out," said Sarah.

"And possibly to keep something in," said Cerevin. "Remember, the legends say King Menes brought beasts to guard his treasure. So far, we've only seen one beast that was probably here on purpose."

Simon looked up at Krog puzzled. "The giant bird," said Krog, "from before we encountered the kobolds the first time."

"Right," said Cerevin, "so whatever is in there may be just as anxious to get out as we are to get in."

"But, if we want to go through the door, we need to open it," said Yargma.

"True," said Cerevin, "but let me try to open it."

He knelt down by the door and examined the locks for a few minutes. Yargma sat on the steps behind him just so she didn't have to crouch. After several more minutes, the locks on the two remaining crossbars clicked open. Cerevin put away his tools and drew his sword.

"Okay, everybody get ready," he said. "Yargma, push the door open, please." Sarah drew her sword and Krog concentrated. Yargma put her shoulder into the door and pushed it open. With her size and strength, it looked easy.

Beyond the door was a huge room, nearly as big as the cavern with the pillars where Nik had kept them before trying to kill them. There was dim light coming from somewhere, but the source was not immediately obvious. The walls were rough, native stone, as was the floor. In the center of the room was the decaying corpse of a massive gryphon. The stink alone was enough to make all of them recoil in horror. Simon tried to be brave, but he turned his head and puked.

Crawling on the gryphon and around the stone floor were rats the size of large dogs or a small cow. They had turned when the door opened, their beady black eyes shining in the faint light, whiskers quivering. Cerevin cursed under his breath. Yargma drew her enormous sword and grinned.

The rat closest to Yargma charged her, its massive front teeth bared. She waited until the beast was within striking range then stepped to the side, sweeping in front of her with the blade. The rat's head fell from its body with barely a sound, spraying Yargma and Cerevin with its hot blood.

Krog stepped into the room and unleashed his spell. Bright blue lightning jumped from his hand to the rat headed in his direction. The rat squeaked in pain and fell dead to one side while the lightning continued from the first rat and hit the one next to it. The second rat squeaked and twitched a little, then it changed its charge and came running for Krog. That was not an outcome Krog was expecting. He swore and stepped backwards.

Sarah saw the rat charging her twitch and shift its focus to her right. She slashed at it, but it was too late. The rat leapt at Krog, its claws tearing at his robes and arms while it tried to bite at his face and neck. Krog screamed and fell down with the rat on top of him. Sarah stabbed the rat in its hindquarter. It squeaked and started bleeding profusely. It turned its beady eyes to Sarah as she lunged again. The sword glanced off the rat's shoulder and it clawed at her, tearing through her leather jacket and raking her flesh beneath it. She grunted in pain and the blow knocked her off balance.

The second rat foolish enough to come at Yargma had been better at dodging than the first. It evaded the deadly sword long enough to land a swipe across Yargma's outer thigh. Yargma thrust the sword down into the rat's body, in between its shoulders, killing it instantly.

"Watch the claws," called Yargma. "They are sharp."

"Yeah," said Sarah, "got that."

Cerevin had side stepped his rat's charge, landing a blow on its shoulder. It squeaked and charged again from a different angle, swiping at Cerevin's leg, just barely grazing his skin. Cerevin slashed at the rat's head, severing one of its ears. If rats could howl, this one did. It let out a low, pained squeak and scrabbled toward Cerevin in rage, clawing furiously. Cerevin kept it at bay, trading slashes with the beast until finally the rat's head lolled to one side long enough for Cerevin to slash at its throat, dropping the rat to the floor, twitching and bleeding.

Meanwhile, Krog had been trying to keep the giant rat on top of him from mauling his face. Sarah stumbled forward, barely keeping a grip on her sword. She punched at the rat's wounded leg and it squeaked in pain. The rat clawed at Sarah's face and she twitched backwards just in time as the deadly claw just grazed her chin.

Then, the rat on top of Krog let out a final cry and fell lifeless. When he realized the rat was dead, he stopped struggling and looked at Sarah. She was looking around to make sure there were no more rats. On the other side of the rat, Krog felt something hot and sticky dripping through the new holes in his robe. He turned to look and Simon was standing there, shaking, his hands still on the short sword, his eyes pressed shut.

"Ugh!" said Krog. "Get this rat off of me. It really stinks."

Simon opened his eyes and pulled the sword out of the rat's side, stumbling backwards with the force required. Krog and Sarah pushed the rat off of Krog and he sat up, examining the gouges in his arms and legs.

Cerevin glanced at Yargma who was bouncing on her toes, itching for the next fight. He went to Sarah and Krog.

"Are you two alright?" he asked.

Sarah nodded. "We will be. Nobody got bitten."

Cerevin approached Simon. He was sitting against the wall, the short sword looking enormous in his small hands. The end was bloodied and Simon was just staring at it, eyes wide and tearless.

"Simon," Cerevin said gently. "Are you alright? Did any of the rats hurt you?"

Simon swallowed hard and shook his head. Cerevin smiled and gestured at the sword. "Where did you get that?"

Simon's voice came out raspy and shaking. He said, "from Nik's closet." He swallowed again and the shaking was gone. "I saw the rats come for Krog and was going to hide, but then I remembered you said we were near Nik's room with the altar. I remembered the closet full of junk we found there, so I ran to it and picked up the first sword I found that I could carry."

"That was good thinking, Simon."

"Yes," said Krog, "thank you. If it hadn't been for you, I hate to think what the rat might have done to my good looks."

Simon smiled and seemed to notice Krog's bloodied arms for the first time. "Oh! You're hurt," he said. "I can help with that, too."

While Simon was wrapping Krog's arms, Yargma went over to the remains of the gryphon and looked it over. She noticed a leather strap among the matted remains of its mane, but it didn't seem to be attached to anything else in the room.

She trotted back over to Cerevin and the others. "It has been dead for a while," she said. "Months, at least." Cerevin nodded. "There is a leather strap around its neck," she continued, "not attached to a wall that I could see. Oh, and I see where the rats got into the room." She gestured toward the far end of the room on the same side as the door. There were some broken up rocks piled around a dark spot on the wall.

"A collar?" said Cerevin. "That's odd."

"It would take more than a collar to keep a gryphon under control," said Sarah.

"Agreed."

When Simon had finished with Krog, he moved on to Sarah. She held her arm still for Simon and said, "what was that spell you used on the rat?"

Krog rolled his eyes. "One I'm never going to use again."

"Was the jumping intentional?" asked Cerevin, taking a swig from his wine skin.

"Yes," said Krog. "I realized that my fireball wasted a lot of energy if I made the first one too big, but those spells are not exact. So, I designed the lightning one to let me take any extra energy from one target and send it to another." He coughed, embarrassed. "I didn't think about what would happen if I failed to kill the second target."

"That's okay," said Cerevin. "Any fight you can walk away from is a win."

Yargma stiffened. "I do not walk away from fights," she declared. Sarah started to explain the figure of speech to her and just gave up.

Once they were all bandaged and ready to go, they went to examine the collar on the dead gryphon. Cerevin and Yargma struggled to get a grip on it while cutting through the heavy leather.

Krog looked around the room, puzzled. "Other than the rat hole," he said, "I don't see a way out of here, except the way we came in."

"I suppose this could be a decoy," said Sarah. "Put a big monster here guarding nothing."

Yargma cursed and finally cut the last of the collar free. She and Cerevin tugged on it and fell backwards when the weight of the collar broke free of the gryphon remains. The movement sent up another wave of stink and the pile of bones collapsed in on itself somewhat. Simon managed to keep from throwing up this time, owing mostly to the fact that his stomach was empty.

On the end of the collar, there was a large metal object, the size of a man's chest. It was tarnished a dark grey color and was shaped like the cup of a goblet.

"A bell?" asked Krog, looking over the object.

Sarah bent to look inside the cup. "There's no striker inside," she said.

"That makes sense," said Cerevin, picking himself up. To Sarah's puzzled look, he said, "you wouldn't want the gryphon to clang the bell every time it moved."

"Why not?"

"I'm just guessing," said Cerevin, "but there's nothing else in this room. The only thing the gryphon might have been guarding is this bell."

"Or," said Krog, "whatever it was guarding is gone already. Remember one of the bars on the door was pried open."

Cerevin tilted his head to one side, conceding the point. "Let's hope it's the former and see what's so special about the bell."

They examined the bell from every direction, looked for traps, felt for magical presence, used the jeweled dagger on it. Still, nothing happened to the bell.

"I think it is just a bell," said Yargma.

"If King Menes had a sense of humor," said Krog, "he might have put it on the gryphon like some people put bells on cats."

"After the encounter with his shade," said Sarah, "I'm going to say that he didn't have a sense of humor."

"You're probably right," said Krog.

Cerevin said, "well, then the only thing left to do is ring it." He motioned to Yargma and she hoisted the bell up off the ground, suspended by the moldy leather strap. Cerevin took the butt of his sword handle and smacked the bell sharply. A deep, pure tone reverberated through the room.

Nothing happened.

"Try again," said Krog. "In fact, strike it twice more. Spell keys often come in threes."

Twice more, Cerevin struck the bell with his sword. After the third strike, a low rumbling of moving stone sounded from within the far wall. About the same time, the lights in the room flickered and went out.

Krog cursed. "I'll go get a lamp from the hallway," he said, a tiny fireball appearing in his right hand. It produced enough light for Krog to find the door without tripping over rat bodies. A few minutes later, he returned with a lamp in hand.

The grinding stone noise had been another door opening up in the far end of the room. Krog handed the lamp to Cerevin who led the way to the new door. The passageway was the same size as the door and seemed to slope downwards until it was out of range of the lamp's light.

"Argh," said Yargma. "Why must these passages be so tiny?"

Cerevin smirked and went into the passageway first, looking for traps as he went. They had gone about thirty feet when Cerevin stopped.

"What is it," asked Sarah.

"A trap, I think."

"You think?" said Krog.

"Yes," Cerevin said, concentrating on the ground and walls in front of him. "These aren't like magical traps that give themselves away. They don't emminate 'skulduggery' the way magical traps emminate magic."

Krog rolled his eyes.

"If I'm right," said Cerevin, "there are two traps here. One doesn't seem to do anything. The other is almost certainly an arrow trap."

"Can we disarm or avoid them?" asked Sarah.

"I think we can avoid them," said Cerevin. The floor in front of him was rough like the rest of the corridor, but there were tiny breaks in the stone. "I think if we choose the right places to step through here, we should be okay." Cerevin gingerly put his foot on a small area of stone and shifted his weight to it. Nothing happened. "Right," he said, "follow my steps exactly."

Cerevin picked his way among the nearly invisible breaks in the stone, Sarah following him, then Simon, Krog, and Yargma. After about ten feet, when Krog had just started onto the trapped floor, Cerevin paused again. He let forth a most impressive set of curses in both human and barbarian.

But before Sarah could ask what the problem was, the ground started shaking beneath them. "Back!" yelled Cerevin over the noise. "Go back! Be careful not to trip the arrow-"

Before he could finish, the ground in front of him dropped away. It was all Cerevin could do to not step backwards in fear and risk triggering the arrow trap. Yargma backed up away from the trapped floor and Krog stepped carefully back off the floor.

Simon said, "I can't see the floor. I don't remember where was safe anymore." Krog and Yargma extended their arms to him, as far as they dare.

Yargma said, "turn around and jump to us. We'll catch you."

The floor continued to shake and in Cerevin's lamp light, more of the corridor in front of them was disappearing down into the black. Cerevin thought he heard water splashing in among all the rumbling stone.

Simon turned around carefully in place. He gathered his youthful legs beneath him and sprung towards Krog and Yargma's outstretched arms. He wasn't going to make it the whole way, but he pulled his legs up and reached for his freinds' arms. They caught him awkwardly, but brought him down on the safe side of the trapped floor.

Sarah had started picking her way back across when the floor shook again. She heard Simon scream and the light tumbled down into blackness. Sarah turned to look when the floor she was standing on gave way. She screamed and grabbed hold of the floor, triggering the arrow trap. Poisoned arrows flicked across the passageway.

Yargma shouted, "Cerevin! Sarah!" Krog blocked her from running after them down the hallway.

"No!" he shouted over the rumbling. "You can't save them," he said. "We've got to get out of here!"

Fortunately, whoever had designed the arrow trap failed to put arrow holes down at ankle level. The poisoned arrows whizzed by Sarah's outstretched arms, but didn't hit her. She was struggling to get back onto some kind of solid stone when another rumble sent the rocks under her hands tumbling into the black. Sarah screamed and fell.

Krog made a tiny fireball for light and they retreated up the passageway back into the room with the dead gryphon. A few seconds later, the rumbling stopped.

"We must go help them," said Yargma, her face flushed with anger and shame. "I will go find rope and another light."

"Yargma, wait," said Krog. "We need to think about this."

She turned on Krog and yelled, "I am done thinking! All this sneaking and thinking has gotten us nowhere." She stormed off.

"We need to know what set off the trap so we don't do it again," called Krog. He threw his hands up in disgust.

Simon was peering down the rat hole while holding his nose. Krog saw his gaze and brought the fireball light over to him.

"Worried about more rats, Simon?" asked Krog.

Simon shook his head. "We have rats at home that get in the barn sometimes," he said. "Not all rat holes lead to dens. Sometimes, they just burrow from one open area to another, like from the outside to inside the barn, coming under the wall."

Krog smiled. "See, stopping to think, just what I said we needed. Good thinking, Simon." Krog let the fireball drift away from his hand and guided it down the rat hole as far as they could see. When the hole turned, Krog pulled the fireball back. Simon got a fist sized stone from the small pile and rolled it down the passageway. After a few seconds, he looked up at Krog smiling.

"Did you hear that?" he said, hopeful.

Krog nodded. "Water. Which probably means you're right and there's another passageway down there." He frowned. "That's going to be a tight fit for me. There's no way Yargma will go willingly into that hole."

"The walls of the rat hole are a mix of dirt and rock," said Simon. "Can we dig it out some more?"

"That will take time," said Krog. "I don't know how much time we have." He frowned. "Rather, I don't know how much time Cerevin and Sarah have."

When the floor went out from under his feet, Cerevin dropped the lamp, scrabbling at the walls, trying to find a handhold of some kind. The lamp tumbled away and went out. Cerevin fell, flailing around in the black, terrified. He tried to keep his feet beneath him so he wouldn't land on his head. After a few interminable seconds, Cerevin's shoulder struck something hard, spinning him around before he crashed into the water.

The shock and cold drove the air from his lungs as he went under. His head spinning, Cerevin kicked and clawed his way towards what he hoped was the surface. His hands broke the surface of the water just as the burning in his lungs became unbearable. He got his head above water and sucked in a huge breath, coughing and struggling to breathe.

In his kicking, he felt a rock beneath his foot. He swam in that direction and felt some kind of rocky, muddy bank. He climbed out of the water, still coughing. It was absolutely dark here without a light.

Cerevin heard another rumble of stone and cowered into a ball, hoping to avoid any more close encounters with rocks. The shoulder where he'd hit something felt like it was on fire. He probed it gingerly with his fingers and found only a slight cut in his skin. His leather jacket had taken most of the damage from his skin, but the bruise forming beneath it was something the hide couldn't protect him from.

From far away, Cerevin heard Sarah scream and heard more rocks tumbling into the water not too far away. A few seconds later, he heard something softer than a rock hit the water. He squinted uselessly into the darkness and called, "Sarah!" His voice came out rough and hoarse from all the coughing.

The rumbling stopped and Cerevin called out again. A few seconds later, he heard splashing and gasping from a few feet in front of him. "Sarah!" he called. "Come towards my voice."

After some coughing and sputtering, Sarah croaked, "coming."

"I'm on some kind of bank," he said, giving Sarah something to navigate by. "It's steep, but there should be some footholds." Sarah swam towards his voice. She groped around and finally locked arms with Cerevin and struggled up onto the bank.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Sarah coughed a bit more but said, "yes, I think so. I hit my hip and knee on some sharp rocks, but I think I'll be okay."

"What about the others?"

"I saw Simon jump free of the trapped floor, but I don't know what happened after that."

They sat for a few minutes, recovering from the fall. The air was cool, but not stale, which made Cerevin hopeful there was more to this than just the hole they fell down.

"Now what?" said Sarah after she'd recovered her breath. "We need a light."

"Agreed," said Cerevin. He took off his pack and began feeling around in it for his tinder box. "Even if we can get a flame," he said, "everything we have to burn is soaked." He opened the tinder box and it dumped water into his lap.

Cerevin cursed. "That's the last time I buy supplies from Gravis." Sarah chuckled morbidly.

When Yargma woke, she was lying on the muddy bank of a dark river. Krog and Simon were sitting on the bank near her feet talking quietly. There were two lamps burning on the bank, leaning against the rocky wall of the cavern. Yargma sat up and grunted quietly.

"It feels like I slept on a dozen pointy rocks," she said. "What happened?"

Krog and Simon had worked out a story to tell her. Krog just hoped she was as bad at detecting lying as he thought she was. "When you didn't come back with the rope and the lamp, we went looking for you. Something had hit you with sleeping poison and you fell down some stairs."

Yargma watched Krog as he spoke, but his face was hidden in shadows. "Sleeping poison?" she said. "I do not remember that."

Krog shrugged. "Sometimes that poison makes you forget the minutes leading up to it," he said. That much at least was true.

Yargma stood up. Krog and Simon did the same.

"So, we're going then?" asked Krog. "Excellent. Simon, get the other lamp, will you?" The moving light flickered over a hole in the wall about the same size as the rat hole in the gryphon room. Yargma looked down at her arms and legs. They looked like they'd gotten quite muddy, then were wiped clean. And, she didn't have the pounding headache she associated with sleeping poison.

"Wait," said Yargma. Krog and Simon turned to face her, trying to look innocent. "I have been hit with sleeping poison before, Krog," she said. Krog winced. "It gives you a very bad headache once it has worn off." She glared at him. "I do not have a headache."

"Well, that's good," said Krog brightly. "Let's get moving. We don't yet know what happened to Cerevin and Sarah."

"You did something to me," said Yargma. "Do not lie to me."

Krog sighed. "I should have known you'd have encountered sleeping poison before. Okay, fine. Simon found another way down that didn't involve the trapped passageway." He gestured to the rat hole. "But, we knew you wouldn't come willingly through that tiny space, so-"

"So you attacked me?" She took a step towards Krog.

He took a step backwards and formed a tiny fireball in his hand. "Sleep," he said. "I put you to sleep and we used the rope to squeeze you through the rat hole."

Yargma reached for her sword and Krog increased the size of the fireball.

"You lying little mage," she spat. "I should cut you in half right now."

Simon backed away from both of them and said, "this won't help Sarah and Cerevin."

Yargma paused. She scowled at Krog but put her sword away. Krog let the fireball dissipate.

"Good," said Simon. "Let's go." He turned and led the way down the river along the muddy bank.

After exploring the immediate area by feel, Sarah and Cerevin determined that the pool of water they fell into was connected to a larger body of water that seemed to have a slight current to it. They used the stones of the bank to map out the edges of the water in their minds.

"Well," said Cerevin, "shall we try our luck on the far side of the river?"

Sarah started to respond when she heard something moving upstream. She poked Cerevin and whispered, "did you hear that?"

"More rats?" guessed Cerevin. Just then, a small light bobbed into existence around a corner.

"Not rats," said Sarah. She stood up and called, "Yargma? Simon? Krog? Anybody there?"

After a few seconds of silence, Yargma's voice called, "Sarah? Are you okay? Is Cerevin with you?"

Cerevin stood up and yelled, "yes, I'm here."

One of the lights bounced around as Simon jumped around in happiness. He let out a whoop of joy and ran down the bank as quickly as he could without slipping into the water. He put down the lamp and hugged Sarah, grinning. She hugged him back.

"What's with the rope?" he said, letting go of Sarah's middle. A length of rope was tied from Sarah to Cerevin.

Cerevin smiled. "It was so we didn't get lost in the dark," said Cerevin. "And in case one of us fell into the water again, the other could help pull them out."

"That's smart," said Simon.

Krog and Yargma arrived, Yargma giving both Cerevin and Sarah a big bear hug, lifting them off the ground. "I am so glad you are alive," she said, setting them down again.

"You, too," said Cerevin. "How did you get down here?"

Krog gestured at Simon. "It was his idea." Simon looked at his feet and blushed. "Remember the rat hole in the room with the gryphon?"

Cerevin looked from Krog to Yargma and back, raising an eyebrow. He coughed. "That must have been interesting," he said. "Maybe later you can tell us how you managed that."

"Yes," said Krog, "sometime later." He turned to look across the river. "Any idea what's on the other side?"

"None," said Cerevin. "It was too dark to see before." Krog held the lamp aimed across the black water of the river. The cavern ceiling was twenty or thirty feet above them and the river was at least as wide.

"It looks like there's a bank on the other side," said Krog, "and it looks like it's wider than this one."

"That does mean crossing the river," said Cerevin. He was not looking forward to being plunged into cold black water again.

Krog looked at the water uncertainly. "Right. Any idea if the water is... inhabited?"

Cerevin shook his head. "We landed in this pool, more or less," he said gesturing to the little inlet of water. "Nothing came to munch on us, but we had an avalanche of rocks clearing the path for us."

"One way or the other," said Cerevin, "we're going to have to cross the river if we want to see what's over there." They tied the rope around everyone and looked at the water.

Yargma said, "I will go first. I am a strong swimmer."

"Good idea," said Cerevin. "And you can help pull us ashore, if necessary."

Krog offered Yargma the lamp. "I can barely swim to keep my head above water," said Krog. "I can't swim and carry the lamp." Yargma took it and eased down into the water cautiously. She was out a few feet when it became Krog's turn.

By the time Sarah was in the water, Yargma had made it to the other side and was pulling herself up and out. She glanced over her shoulder and said, "I do not mean to alarm you, but there is something alive over here."

Simon beat Krog to the shore and helped pull him up. Sarah and Cerevin were hurrying to get across when Simon turned to look over his shoulder and screamed. A huge, fanged snake head came down and snapped at him. Simon cowered into a ball and the snake sank its teeth into Simon's pack and yanked him off the ground by it.

The rope holding Simon to Krog and Sarah tensed as the snake pulled and Simon screamed. "Simon!" yelled Yargma. "Let go of the pack!" The tension on the rope increased, pulling Krog and Sarah up off the ground. Simon threw his arms wide and let the shoulder straps of his pack slide off his arms. Sarah and Krog fell to the ground and Simon landed on top of them.

Cerevin made it to shore and cut the rope from his midsection. Yargma had done the same and they approached the snake from opposite sides. The snake, annoyed that its snack had escaped, tossed the pack to one side. In the motion, Yargma saw something that made her curse.

"It has two heads," she shouted. The second head loomed into view, the shadows from the small lamp huge and distorted on the cavern walls. Its dark scales looked rough along its back, almost as if it was subtly spiked. Its bright yellow yellow eyes focused on Yargma as it tasted the air with its huge, red tongue.

Krog, Simon, and Sarah scrabbled to get out of the way of the deadly fangs. The first head followed them with its eyes, then flicked them to Cerevin who was moving in between the snake and its prey. Sarah pulled out her dagger and cut the rope as the snake head lunged again, this time at Cerevin. He dodged the strike, slashing the snake's snout with his sword. It recoiled and hissed loudly.

The second head plunged after Yargma. She didn't dodge, but landed a fierce blow down the middle of its nose. Dark, eerie looking blood spilled out of the wound. The head pulled back and shook in pain. The first head turned its attention to Yargma who had proven to be the bigger threat.

Krog, now free of the rope, sent a fireball towards the heads. It hit with a glancing blow on the first head, searing off a few scales from the snake's neck and pulling it attention back to him and Cerevin.

"Good," called Cerevin, "keep it distracted fighting more than one of us at a time!"

Sarah and Simon avoided the big heads and circled around behind the beast. The first head lunged at Krog, but he was ready for it. Blue lightning shot out of Krog's left hand and up into the snake's open mouth. Unfortunately, that was not enough to kill the head and it recoiled just far enough to change angles on its thrust. Krog stumbled backwards. Cerevin saw that Krog wasn't going to clear the fangs, so he dove toward the snake head, hoping to knock it to the side. He impacted the snake's lower jaw only a few feet from Krog who had the presence of mind to roll to the opposite side. The snake's fangs scraped against stone, spilling milky white venom onto the ground.

The second head, still bleeding, dove again towards Yargma. She jumped to one side at the last second and slashed at the thing's eye, landing the strike. The head hissed loudly and swung around to knock his attacker to the side. The blow caught Yargma square in the chest and tossed her into the air. She hit the body of the snake with enough force to knock the air from her lungs and the sword from her hands.

Simon and Sarah flanked the snake's body, stabbing at it, but they were barely able to get through the tough scales. Finally Sarah landed a blow that made the snake twitch its tail angrily, knocking Sarah to the ground, and wrapping a coil of itself around Simon. The spiked scales dug into his skin and he screamed.

Krog and Cerevin rolled clear of the snake's head and the deadly venom. The head that had knocked Yargma to the ground saw Cerevin roll into range with its one remaining eye. It thrust its head down and caught Cerevin. One fang ripped through his pack and the other cleared his chest by fractions of an inch. His arm was trapped between the skin covered bones of the snakes upper and lower jaws. The head yanked back, pulling Cerevin from the ground by his injured shoulder. He screamed in pain as the thing shook him, then tossed him up into the air, preparing to swallow him whole.

As Cerevin flew into the air, the smaller contents of his pack fell out through the hole left by the giant fang. Krog had been watching the first snake head prepare to lunge at him again, trying to figure out how to escape when he saw the jeweled dagger fall from Cerevin's pack and hit the stone floor. One of the jewels popped loose, and, just for a second, Krog saw not only the snake, but the skeletal remains of dozens, maybe hundreds of human bodies lying all around. Then, just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone.

Sarah stabbed at the snake's body, angling her blade to get under the scales. Simon had stopped screaming and hung limply against the spiky scales. Sarah's strike hit home again and the snake's body twitched, letting go of Simon and knocking Sarah backwards several feet, her sword still lodged in the snake's body. The spiky scales grated against her leather jacket as she fell.

Yargma fumbled for her sword as the first snake head turned to see what was attacking its body. As it spun its head around, Yargma saw her moment and took it. The scale-free wound on the snakes neck swung into view. Yargma slashed at the wound with all her strength, giving out a mighty cry as she did so. The blade sunk deep into the snake's neck, nearly severing it from the body. The dark blood spilled down the sword and onto the ground as the neck fell limply to the ground, its eyes unfocused.

The second head that was preparing to eat Cerevin was tugged forward by the other head falling to the ground. So, when Cerevin came down, he landed in between the snake's eyes instead of in its throat. Cerevin grunted in pain from the landing and tried to hold on when the snake shook its head. The snake's head reared back to get a good shake. Cerevin slid painfully over the spiky scales for a few feet then tumbled to the ground. As the snake's head turned to attack Cerevin again, Yargma stepped up on its blind side. She thrust her massive sword up through the snake's lower jaw and into its brain. The head dropped to the ground.

Sarah went shakily to Simon. He was pale and Sarah was afraid the snake had killed him. She bent to his chest and listened for a heartbeat. "Simon," she called, shaking his shoulder. "He's not breathing," she said to Krog.

Yargma pulled her sword from the snake's head and climbed over it to make sure Cerevin was okay. After a lot of groaning and disparaging comments about the snake's mother, Cerevin got to his feet with Yargma's help. A bruise was spreading across her chest, under the chainmail.

Krog returned to Simon with a waterskin and handed it to Sarah. She poured some on his lips. Nothing. "Come on, Simon," she said, "don't die on us now." She poured some more water in his mouth. Suddenly, he started coughing and choking, his eyes rolling in vertigo. Krog smiled and sat with Sarah to help support him while he recovered his breath.

Yargma and Cerevin started collecting the contents of Cerevin's shredded pack. When he picked up the jeweled dagger, Cerevin got a glimpse of something that made him pause.

"Did you see that?" he asked.

Yargma nodded. "It looked like skeletons, but just for a second."

"That's odd."

They finished collecting their supplies and distributing them among the other packs. Cerevin and Yargma retrieved the lamps and set about exploring the edges of the cavern, as far as they dare. Cerevin called, "there's a door here." Sarah noted the excitement in Cerevin's voice. She had considered that this was just a trap, nothing more, and they would not find treasure down this way. A door made that seem less likely. The beasts of legend were here and there was a door, so her hope was rekindled.

The door was another iron door like they had seen outside the gryphon room. This one had only a single crossbar, the lock for which Cerevin picked without much effort. Yargma pulled on the door and it swung open. The room beyond was well-lit and there were faint sounds of merriment.

After exchanging a few astonished glances, they went in. The room was long and brightly lit, but the source wasn't visible. There were cheerful tapestries along the walls and a long plush rug running the length of the room. At the far end, there was wooden door, this time made of normal-colored wood instead of the black wood they'd come to expect from the Stronghold.

They approached the far door cautiously. Cerevin considered not looking for traps. He felt so safe here. But, he did a cursory examination before opening the door. The sounds of merriment spilled out and they grinned as they looked around.

The room beyond the door was huge and brightly-lit. There were tables loaded with food and drink. People of every size and shape were milling about, talking, drinking, eating, and enjoying every moment of it. A few of them noticed the newcomers and called to them.

"Welcome, travelers, welcome!" said a short, stout man with a long mustache. He was dressed in a bright green vest over a pure white shirt and crisp, black pants. His boots shone impressively. "Please, come in! Have a seat and enjoy yourselves."

They grinned at each other and followed the short man's advice. They sat down at the nearest table and started eating.

Cerevin walked proudly down the stairs to the thieves guild in Dreardon. His new black leather pants and jacket shined in the dim light and his new black silk shirt shimmered underneath. When he opened the door, conversation in the room stopped. Cerevin bowed to the head of the guild and said, "I have returned from the Stronghold, triumphant."

A murmur went through the men in the room. Cerevin said, "behold!" From behind him, a lackey entered the room carrying two large sacks full of gems which he opened for all to see. The thieves moved in to gape at the riches, impressed.

From one of the shadows, an ugly man dressed in patchwork brown leather said, "damn you, Cerevin!" He stepped out of the shadows, dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin. "You've proved me wrong again!"

Cerevin tossed his head back and laughed. "That's right, you old fool. I found the Stronghold and now I've come to take my place in the guild, teaching you all what I have learned in my many travels."

The men murmured and gathered around him, saying, "yes, teach us! Tell us about your travels, Cerevin."

Cerevin's eyes gleamed. "In good time, but first-" he turned to the ugly man and said, "say it!"

The man met Cerevin's eyes with shame then hung his head. "You're a better thief than I am, Cerevin," said the man.

"Thank you, father," said Cerevin. "Now, what do you want to know first?"

Yargma stood in the open fields of human lands, swinging her sword with ease against the pitiful resistance. She looked to her left and her sister stood with her, grinning as they plowed through the best the kingdom's army had to offer. Her chest was bare, her head bald, and her loincloth swung comfortably as she moved.

Yargma let out a war cry of joy. She spun and lunged, parried and swiped, dancing with her deadly blade.

"I am so glad you came back," said Yargma's sister. She grinned at Yargma as she cut down the soldier in front of her. "You belong with us."

Yargma beamed and let herself ride the wave of euphoria that combat gave her.

Simon rode down the rutted dirt lane to his father's house. He wore a pure white shirt under a gold dragonskin jacket and black leather pants. He wore a shining short sword on his hip and shiny snakeskin boots. His horse was draped with a pure white blanket, embroidered with shining red thread. Its coat and mane shone in the late morning light, a beautiful bronze color.

The rickety old farmhouse came into view as Simon passed the last sheep field. He tipped his hat to his dirty, half-naked nephew. The boy's eyes grew wide and he sprinted off towards the farmhouse. Simon tossed his head back and laughed, the exotic bird feathers in his hat shimmering and fluttering in the sun.

Simon saw his family gather on the porch to watch his approach. He smiled confidently as he guided his horse to the house. His father stepped forward in his dirty overalls and ratty old boots. Simon slipped easily off his horse and stood a few inches taller than the aging man. Simon smiled and said, "hello, father."

"Oh, Simon my boy!" He threw his arms around Simon, hugging him with a love that brought tears to his eyes. "We missed you so much, Simon." He held Simon at arm's length and looked into his eyes. "I love you, Simon, and I am so proud of you!"

Simon smiled. His father wiped the tears from his eyes and said, "well, come on in. Your mother's dying to get a look at her baby boy, all grown up now. Come on in and sit for a spell." He turned and started up the stairs of the porch. Simon's siblings and their children smiled at Simon, genuinely glad to see him again. Simon went into the house, feeling loved and wanted at last.

Krog sat on the white stone bench, gazing out over the closely tended garden. Here and there, couples walked slowly among the topiary, whispering and kissing. The sun was warm and soft against his human colored skin. He wore a perfectly tailored suit of dark grey and a gleaming white shirt underneath. His shoes shined and the wind played pleasantly with his long, curly brown hair.

A beautiful woman in a sophisticated pale yellow dress walked up the path, looking from side to side. Her chestnut hair was tied up against her head in a beautiful bun, a few locks curling downwards to play at her neckline. She looked at Krog and smiled warmly. She walked towards him and Krog stood up.

"There you are, my love," said Krog, his voice a sweet, smooth tenor. She reached for his outstretched hands and took them in hers. Her skin was warm and soft.

"Oh, my beloved," said the woman. "What a splendid day for a walk in the park! Such a wonderful idea you had. So sorry I'm late."

Krog smiled. "Not at all, my love," he said. "I would wait forever for you."

She blushed prettily and closed her long-lashed eyelids as she averted her face. "You flatter me, sir," she said. He reached up and touched the side of her face, basking in her beauty.

"Then allow me to continue," he said. He let go of her hands and got down on one knee. She opened her eyes and caught her breath at his pose. He smiled and pulled a tiny velvet box from behind him. He opened offered it up to her.

Her delicate hands were shaking as she opened the box. The simple ring sparkled in the sunshine as did the tears of joy that fell from her eyes. Krog looked her in the eyes and said, "will you marry me?"

She squeaked a little sound of joy and smiled broadly. She looked from the ring to Krog and whispered, "of course I will!" Krog stood and they embraced for a long minute, letting the love flow between them. They broke apart and Krog placed the ring on her pale finger. They looked into each others' eyes and kissed passionately.

Sarah walked beside Yargma down the stone road outside of Dreardon. They moved easily, waving at carts that passed them. Cerevin, Simon, and Krog walked ahead of them, chatting amiably. They were all whole and healthy, resplendent in their new clothes, flush with their new-found wealth. The whole world lay before them, an adventure waiting for them. The city guards tipped their hats to Cerevin, then to Yargma and Sarah as they passed.

Sarah frowned and shook her head. "That's not right," she said to no one.

Sarah was standing in front of the slave tent in her old village. The barbarian women called her over. She ran obediently to them. "Garah, take the rest of the boar to the slaves," said Morga, smiling. "You have earned it."

"Thank you," said Sarah, in barbarian. Yooma put her large, old hand on Sarah's shoulder and said, "you are home now, Garah. We will take care of you."

Sarah frowned and took a step back. "No," she said, "this is not right."

Sarah was standing before her mother and father in their tailoring shop. They looked down at Sarah proudly and started to speak, but Sarah shook her head again.

"No, no, no," she said. "None of this is real." She looked up and around at the shop. "You hear me? I know what you're doing."

The walls of the shop flickered and disappeared.

The short man with the mustache frowned as Sarah stumbled back from the table. "Something wrong, my lady?" She rubbed her eyes and looked from him to her friends. They were talking and laughing, enjoying the feast. Something pulled at her gut, pulling her back to the table. It felt so nice to sit there, to be among those she loved. She could just sit for a few more minutes.

She pressed her eyes closed and physically pushed herself away from the table. "No," she gasped. The wonderful feeling of belonging drained out of her gut and was replaced by nausea. Images of every horrible thing she had ever seen, every death, every cruelty inflicted on her or to those she loved came flooding into her mind. The vivid memory of every pain and every shame came back to her, overwhelming her senses.

Sarah fell to her knees under the weight of memories and the sick, lonely feeling in her gut. "No," she cried. "Stop it! It's not real!"

The mustached man said, "it's as real as anything else in your head, Sarah."

"You're not real either," she moaned, holding her stomach, willing herself not to vomit.

There was a clatter near Cerevin and the bright room flickered for just a second. Sarah stopped and looked in the direction of the sound.

"What was that?" She wasn't sure if she said it or just thought it.

"Nothing," said the mustached man. "Come now, you've had long journey and you must be tired." As he said it, Sarah had never felt so weary in her life. All the sickness and memory were gone, replaced by a bone-deep need to stop and sleep.

She half-smiled. "Yeah, pretty sleepy. Been a long day."

"Oh, I know dear," said the man.

Sarah dug the nails of her fingers into her palm as hard as she could. The mustached man approached her and reached down a pale hand to help her up.

"Just a nice nap, then," he said. "I have just the place." Sarah took his hand with one of hers and punched at him with the other. Her arm went through him like punching mist. Sarah had expected resistance and when her punch met none, she spun off-balance and fell to her side.

The man and the lights in the room faded away. A voice from nowhere bellowed, "fine, have it your way." Over the bare rock floor, snakes slithered towards her, joined by Elgar, vampire mites, kobolds, and ghouls. They stopped their approach long enough to focus on a procession coming out of the dark. Dark robed figures held her friends' heads by the hair, still dripping blood.

Sarah spun around to where the tables had been, but they were gone.

The thieves guild walls flickered for just a second while Cerevin was recounting the tale of defeating the Elgar. He paused and looked around. The enraptured audience looked up at him with eager faces. "Then what?" said one of them.

"Uh," said Cerevin. "I, uh... have any of you seen my dagger?"

"It's on your hip, Cerevin," said one of the men. "Nice looking, too."

Cerevin reached for it and it was right where he expected it to be. He looked down at it and frowned. "Yes, it is nice," he said, "but there was a jeweled one, I think..."

"At the Stronghold?" asked one of the men, eagerly. "Tell us about how you found it."

Cerevin shook his head and started his story again.

"It's not real," said Sarah. "I'm on to you, Menes."

A windy laugh tinged with bass echoed in the room. The robed figures laughed, too.

"Well then, bravo, mortal," the voice said. "I tried to give you an easy way out, you know. You could have been happy forever, felt as if you belonged forever."

Sarah took a few steps backwards, trying to gauge where the jeweled dagger had fallen, even though she couldn't see it. "It was just a lie," yelled Sarah. "Why would I want to live a lie?"

"Not a lie," said the voice, "just a pleasant fiction. You would reject eternal happiness? Then, so be it."

Sarah felt a pressure in the air around her. Then the weight and pain of a thousand bad memories and all the fears and worries Sarah carried with her exploded in her mind, as real as anything. She cried out and crumpled under the weight of it. Her shoulder hit something sharp as she fell to the ground.

The walls of the guild flickered again. This time Cerevin stopped his story and stood up. He looked around. Even his father seemed to be impressed by his story.

Cerevin looked around and said, "I don't think this is real."

The men laughed, good-naturedly. "What do you mean, Cerevin? This is Dreardon. Cities don't get much more real than this."

He shook his head. "That's not what I mean," he said. "This isn't right."

Cerevin opened his eyes and the room was much darker than he remembered. He stepped forward a few steps and stumbled on something alive, curled in a ball and whimpering. He bent down to the trembling figure. Sarah had wrapped her arms over her red, splotched face.

He looked to right and saw the jeweled dagger. He reached for it, but as he did, it turned into a snake and he pulled his hand away.

"Ah!" said a voice, "another one joins the party." The robed figures appeared to Cerevin, holding the heads of his friends.

He shook his head. "No, it's not going to work again," he said.

The voice cried out in frustration. "Gods but you people are an obstinant lot!" Cerevin felt around the floor, ignoring the false snakes until he found a rock big enough to smash the dagger with. He pulled it up over his head and started to bring it down. At the last second, Simon's face appeared on the ground where the dagger should have been and Cerevin abort his strike.

He turned to taunt the voice when Sarah, wielding her own rock, brought it down towards Cerevin's head. He put his arms up in time to deflect most of the force behind the blow. The jagged rock smashed into the side of his head, searing fire as it opened a gash. The world got white for a second as Cerevin tumbled backwards with Sarah on top of him.

"I won't let you do it!" she screamed, punching at Cerevin's gut for all she was worth. "I won't let you hurt them!"

"Sarah!" he cried, struggling to get leverage on her. "Sarah, it's me, Cerevin! It's just a trick! You have to fight it!"

They rolled around for a second until Sarah's back rolled onto the dagger, making the world flicker again. Cerevin's face appeared where the city guard of Calavash had been. Sarah blinked in confusion.

Cerevin didn't wait to see why she had paused. He put his foot in her chest and pushed with all his might. Sarah rolled away and came limply to a stop. Cerevin picked up a rock and brought it down on the dagger.

"Wait!" cried the voice of King Menes. "Don't!" The stone hit the delicate weapon with enough force to bend the blade and send gems flying out of it. Cerevin smashed at it over and over again until it was unrecognizable as a weapon.

Yargma, Krog, and Simon blinked and looked around them, confused. Yargma felt the top of her head. When her fingers encountered her little bob of hair, she let out a wail of mourning. "No! My sister! My tribe. They're all gone."

Krog looked down at his grey-green skin and tattered robe. He let out a little sob and whispered, "good bye, my love."

Simon sat down and hugged his knees, crying without shame.

The room around them now appeared as it really was. Broken stone lay around the room as if some massive explosion had destroyed a wall or pillar here. Thousands of bones lay scattered about. Some of them were broken and smashed. Others looked fully intact, as if they had just laid down peacefully and died.

Sarah sat up and held her head in her hands. Cerevin tested the gash on his head gingerly. Sarah watched him for a second then said, "sorry about that. I thought you were someone else."

Cerevin chuckled. "Completely understandable," he said. "Really." He looked around the room. At the far end, something glinted in the faint lamp light. Cerevin grabbed a lamp and hurried over to it. He let out a cry of joy. Sarah and Krog joined him to see what was so wonderful.

Under the dust and broken stones were piles of gold and jewels. The treasure of King Menes lay before them. Yargma sniffed and said, "I do not wish to be made a fool of again. How do we know this is real?"

"It's real," said Krog, sadly. "Or at least, we're no longer stuck in our own heads." He examined the remains of the jeweled dagger and declared it free from magic.

They loaded as many bags as they could carry with gold and jewels. Once full, they made the arduous journey up and out of the Stronghold. This time the widened the rat hole so that Yargma could squeeze through without being unconscious.

No one mentioned the contents of the visions they'd had while under the influence of King Menes.

They were hiking back through the wastelands, heading more or less straight south this time rather than trying to find their way back the way Nik had led them. When they had finally seen the sun again, Sarah almost cried tears of joy. She was enjoying the adventures she had with Cerevin and Yargma, but she was starting to think that holes in the ground were just too much for someone her age.

"One thing I don't understand," said Sarah. "Why did smashing the dagger weaken the shade's hold on our minds?"

"I have a theory on that," said Krog. "We know the dagger was conduit for power to the shade. It said as much. But I'm guessing that the power went both ways. It could channel power from the shade just as easily."

They considered this for a moment and were mostly willing to take Krog at his guess in matters of magic.

"That would explain how the shade could 'give' power to Nik," continued Krog. "It wasn't really giving him power as much as the shade's power was being channeled through him."

"And when we smashed the dagger," said Sarah, "we cut off the conduit for its power."

Krog nodded. "That's my best guess."

Yargma said, "you realize that we have now left the Stronghold defenseless against other robbers. They will benefit from our work."

"I'm willing to be there are more traps and monsters than just the ones we discovered," said Cerevin.

"More?" boggled Simon.

Cerevin nodded. "The treasure we saw, while vast, doesn't add up to the legends. And, if he was truly paranoid, King Menes would have hidden it in several places, not just one."

"Still," said Sarah, "I think we got enough to make the trip worth it."

Krog said, "yes, I do believe this trip was worth the three silver a day." Cerevin grinned at him.

They camped for the night, still on the edge of the wastelands. As they sat around the fire enjoying the remains of the wine, Yargma whispered something to Sarah. They got up and walked several yards away from the fire.

Yargma looked nervous. Sarah had almost never seen her nervous before. Angry, trembling with emotion, but never the anxious uncertainty she saw now. "Yargma, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath, faced Sarah, and said in barbarian, "Sarah, would you judge the coming of age ceremony for me?"

Sarah blinked. She knew the ritual, of course, but her role during the ceremony had been to hold things and clean up afterwards. Sarah recovered under Yargma's expectant gaze. "Yes," she said in barbarian, "I would be honored to judge the ceremony."

Yargma nodded once. "Good. I want to do it tomorrow, while we are still in my homeland, even if we are far from home."

Sarah smiled. She thought Yargma had been too hard on herself the past few years, still seeing herself as not truly an adult. She had proven her valor as a barbarian over and over again and Sarah hated to see her belittle her deeds as those of a child. She had slain monsters more terrible than any wolf or giant herd animal. Sarah paused, and asked, "will you still go hunt a wolf by yourself to prove your worth?"

Yargma smiled sadly and chuckled. "No, I think I have slain enough monsters lately. Besides, any child can slay a wolf."

The next morning, Yargma went for a run, soaking in the sights and smells of her homeland. It may be more years before she returned again. Sarah explained the basic ritual to the men. They agreed to be witnesses and Cerevin offered to translate for Krog and Simon, if they wanted and if it was alright with Yargma.

When Yargma returned from her run, they were ready. Yargma smiled sadly as she approached the camp. Sarah stood as Morga might have, hands on her hips. Simon stood next to her, carefully holding the blade that Yargma used for shaving her head.

Yargma approached Sarah and went to one knee before her. "My tribe, I have slain many monsters as proof of my worth. Proof to you and proof to the Sword Mother."

"Proof, you say," said Sarah in the lowest, most authoritarian voice she could muster. "Tell me of your conquest that I may decide if your proof is worthy of the tribe and the Sword Mother."

Yargma retold her slaying of the giant rats and of the Elgar in the forest. Sarah grunted and turned to consult with Cerevin in hushed tones. After a moment, she said, "very well, Yargma. I have councilled with the tribe. As judge, I agree with your claims, as does the tribe. We will now implore the Sword Mother to accept you as her own." She nodded to Simon who took the blade to Yargma and presented it. Sarah began the long, sing-song chant of the coming of age ceremony.

Yargma finished cutting off her top-knot and handed it to Krog. He took it with a slight bow and Simon took back the blade. Yargma joined the chant. After several minutes, the chant reached crescendo and finished. Sarah opened her eyes and looked at Yargma. "Welcome to adulthood, Yargma. Fight well."

Sarah couldn't help herself and a single tear rolled down her face. Yargma laughed and hugged Sarah. "Thank you," she said. They faced each other for a long moment. Sarah wanted to say how happy she was to still have Yargma in her life. She wanted to say how proud she was. After all, Sarah had been there when Yargma was born and had watched her grow through the years. She also wanted to say that she was glad that Yargma was finally letting herself move beyond her past. She wanted to say that letting go proved she was more of an adult than any wolf corpse could.

But, she said nothing in that long moment. Yargma said it for her, smiling, "now, it is done." They released their arms and went back to the mundane routine of packing up the campsite.

They traveled for several days through the forest and eventually emerged into tended farmland. They walked through fields until they found a road headed south. Thanks to Simon's healing, most of their wounds no longer required bandages. While that did help make them a little less conspicuous, there was still no way to avoid the stares and screams of farmers who only heard of barbarians and orcs in scary stories.

After the third group of frightened farmers they encountered, Yargma relented and put on a human-style shirt under her chainmail. Krog pulled the hood of his robe up over his head. Cerevin didn't fancy their chances of getting rooms at the inn, so he and Simon went into town to get food and wine for everyone.

The next day, they travelled south again and reached the outskirts of town by nightfall. Walking through the streets of town, Cerevin smiled at passersby, but they took pains to give his group a wide berth. They found the inn and went in the front door.

As Cerevin expected, conversation in the room stopped. The innkeeper looked up from his conversation and approached the bedraggled, dirty party. "No, no," he said with a shooing motion. "I don't serve their kind here." He looked at Yargma and Krog and said, "you freaks can go into the big city if you're looking for a room."

Cerevin pulled two gold coins from his purse and said, "did I forget to say 'please'?"

The innkeeper's eyes traveled to the coins, but he pursed his lips. "I don't care if you've got the diamond turds of a dragon, I'm not letting those things stay in my inn."

Cerevin motioned to innkeeper and said, "may we speak in private?"

"I hate this part," whispered Sarah.

"You hate it," scoffed Krog. "You didn't just get called a thing."

Sarah started to argue, but Cerevin shook the innkeeper's hand and returned. "We can stay if we're willing to sleep in the barn," he said.

"It has to be softer than the forest floor," said Krog, grumpily.

They settled in and Cerevin again played courier, bringing them food and drink. The barn was warm and the hay loft was cozy.

Sarah said, "well, that convinces me."

"Of what?" asked Cerevin.

"That we're not in an illusion any more."

Krog said, "I'll be convinced when I can buy a nice house in Dreardon, somewhere other than by all the sailors' bars. Someplace nice and quiet where I can study and not be harassed by the port authority."

"Speaking of study," said Sarah. "What was on the scrolls that King Menes gave you before he knew we were after his treasure?"

"That's what I have to study," said Krog. "One thing is certain, I'm not going to try any of them until I know exactly what they do."

"Why not?" asked Yargma.

"One false move," said Krog, snapping his fingers, "and boom. Cursed for life." He paused. "Or dead. Thought I'm not sure which is worse at this point."

Sarah looked at Cerevin. He looked grumpy again.

"Cerevin, what are you going to do now that you've found the Stronghold?" Sarah asked. "After all these years of searching, you'll finally have some proof that it exists."

Cerevin smiled. Apparently the question at taken his mind off of whatever was upsetting him. "Now? I'm not sure. The Stronghold was kind of my guiding cause for a long time. Maybe I'll retire and take up stealing from rich people, just to keep my skills sharp."

Yargma grunted. "I doubt many rich people have arrow traps."

"You might be surprised," said Cerevin, smiling.

"Retire?" said Simon in horror. "No, you can't retire until you've taught me how to sword fight."

Cerevin looked at the boy. "Flattering, but you'll learn much better sword skills joining a merchant ship's crew for a while."

Yargma groaned. "Ugh. If you do that, be certain you like fish."

Simon laughed. "Of course I like fish!"

They talked for a while, coming up with interesting places for Simon to visit and things for him to learn. Krog even suggested he apprentice to a proper healing witch, to discipline his healing skills. After a while, they drifted off to sleep.

Cerevin took the half-written letter out of his pocket and looked at it. The ink had started to run after his watery fall and subsequent swim, but the name at the top was still legible: Stephan Doorg. The recent darling of the thieves guild in Dreardon. Interesting, indeed.

They got up the next morning and decided not to press their luck by ordering breakfast. The day was bright and sunny. Walking on the road was certainly easier than climbing through the forest, especially as loaded down as they were with gold. Cerevin figured they would reach Dreardon by nightfall.

Sarah fell back a little and said to Cerevin, "you look a bit anxious. Anything troubling you?"

"It's personal," said Cerevin evasively.

Sarah looked at him, studying his face. "Like 'your deepest desires made manifest' personal or 'I just don't want to talk about it' personal?"

He half-smiled. "Guild business personal," he said.

"Ah." Sarah shrugged and said, "well, I hope things turn out okay then." Cerevin nodded. Sarah had a vague understanding of the thieves guild. Her encounters with them had always been through Cerevin. She got the impression that there were a lot more politics and posing than suited Cerevin. She also knew that his lack of respect in the guild bothered him more than he let on.

They were almost to the outskirts of Dreardon when they heard galloping horses from behind them. They cleared off the road to let the horsemen pass, but one of them said, "there they are!" and the horses slowed.

Cerevin turned to look. There were two men on horseback, one not much older than Simon. They approached Cerevin cautiously and the older one said, "excuse me. Did you stay at the New Brighton Inn last night?"

"Well," said Cerevin, "in its barn, yes."

The men exchanged glances. "And you paid with gold?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Sir, the money vanished a few hours ago."

"It sounds like your innkeeper can't count or you have a thief in your town," Cerevin said calmly.

"Yes, sir, I admit that does seem more likely, but," he adjusted in his saddle. Sarah noticed that his clothes looked like a uniform. The boy wore the same outfit and looked more excited than nervous.

"But?" prompted Cerevin.

"Well," said the older man, "the thing is, Innkeeper Jones is a gruff old man, but no one has ever accused him of lying." He shifted again, more uncomfortable with the conversation than the saddle. "He claims he was doing the counting for the previous day and the coins just disappeared right out of his hand."

Cerevin laughed. He looked between the horsemen. "That's good," he said. "You're both very convincing as constables. But, I know how this works. You and the innkeeper figure that where there's two coins, there's two more. So, you cook up this story, come hustling down here where things go one of two ways. Either you convince me to give you two gold to replace the ones that 'vanished', or you threaten to report us to the authorities for theft. Is that about right?"

"Are you calling my dad a liar?" asked the younger man.

"No," said Cerevin, "I merely asked if my story was true or not."

The older man started to respond, but Cerevin waved his hand. "It doesn't matter anyway. I have somewhere I need to be and if I understand you correctly: I give you two gold to take back to Innkeeper Jones and we go merrily on our way."

"Uh," said the constable. "Yes, that about covers it."

Cerevin reached into his purse. "As it happens, I'm more than willing to part with the gold to be on my way." He handed the money to the older man. "Examine it, if you like."

The man looked grateful and bit into the coin. Satisfied, he tipped his hat to Cerevin and the horsemen started back the way they had come.

Having seen everyone safely to Krog's house, Cerevin excused himself for the evening and slipped out into the streets. Moving alone, he made excellent time across town. A few discreet inquiries later, Cerevin came in the back door of the tavern where Stephan Doorg was having his dinner.

Stephan sat at a corner table by himself, serruptitiously watching all the comings and goings of the tavern. Cerevin saw no way to approach him by surprise, which of course was the point of the seat Stephan chose. Still, Cerevin wanted to talk to Stephan, not jump him.

Cerevin quietly approached Stephan's table. Without lifting his head, Stephan said, "Cerevin Ges, to what do I owe the displeasure? Please, sit down."

He sat and watched Stephan's eyes move over the room before meeting Cerevin's. "News of your return has already made its way around the guild."

Cerevin raised an eyebrow. "News certainly travels fast around here."

"That it does," Stephan said. "Word also has it that you actually found the Stronghold." Cerevin shrugged. "Not many believe it, though."

Cerevin's eyes flashed and he sat forward slightly. "You should."

Stephan speared a piece of chicken and said, "why is that?"

"Because you told the cult we were coming."

Stephan paused, then continued eating. He swallowed and took a sip of wine before he said, "did a magic faerie tell you that?"

"No," said Cerevin, "the lead crazy man for the cult did, in his own hand." Cerevin withdrew the water-splotched letter and began to read. "Stephan Doorg, many thanks are due. The information you sold us was spot-on. The group was exactly where you said they would be. By the time you read this letter, they will be dead." Cerevin folded the letter and put it away. "He never got a chance to finish the letter, nor to send it. I'll let you guess as to why that might be."

Stephan cursed and took another drink of wine. He muttered, "crazy old bastard. I knew he was loose-lipped." To Cerevin he said, "that proves nothing. You're not mentioned in the letter and it's not dated. He could have written that letter years ago."

Cerevin leaned forward and glared at Stephan. "Do not lie to me, boy. You may have the guild's favor at the moment, but know that favor and protection only go so far."

"And?" prompted Stephan. "What have I to fear from you and your unspecific letter? If it goes to your word against mine, I think we know who wins."

"Win you may," said Cerevin, "but your honor to the guild would be cast in doubt. Selling information is one thing. Selling out one of the guild is quite another. Once that doubt is cast, it is almost impossible to erase."

Stephan tapped quietly on the table in a nervous gesture. "What do you want from me?" he said. "Why come tell me all of this?"

Cerevin leaned forward and caught Stephan's fingers under his fist. "I want you to honor your commitments to the guild and to leave me out of it." Stephan yanked his fingers free and glared at Cerevin. He looked around the room then nodded once to Cerevin.

"Done."

Cerevin searched his face for a moment then nodded. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other." Cerevin stood and left the tavern by the front door.

Once Cerevin had said what he needed to to Stephan, he left lighter than he had in years. He had proved to himself that he wasn't chasing the wind by finding the Stronghold. He had the coin to prove to others that all the searching had been worth it. And he had a world of possibilities before him.

He walked the moonlit dock and watched the sailing ships bob quietly on the sea. He remembered the soothing motion of the ship on calm water, how it swayed and rocked, gently, caressing the ocean like a lover. He thought maybe he'd go back to sea again, if the mood was still with him in a few days.

As he turned into the dark alleys on the way to Krog's house, he heard the ruckus from sailor taverns ahead. Ah yes, and there was the shore leave to look forward to when at sea. Cerevin watched with mild interest the group of sailors gathering around a brawl. He knocked on Krog's door. There were no lights and no one answered when he opened the door and called for them.

Then it struck him like a poorly made tavern chair. He ran up the street to where the sailors were gathering. If there was one thing he had learned in his travels, it was that Sarah and Yargma were magnets for trouble. He pushed his way through the onlookers until he saw Simon standing dumbfound on the side.

Sure enough, Yargma, Sarah, and Krog were hurling insults and fists at any sailors who got too close. He leaned down to Simon and said, "what happened?"

Simon looked up and smiled when he recognized Cerevin. "One of the sailors made a pass at Sarah and when Yargma told him to piss off, he mistook Yargma for a man and took a swing at her." Cerevin smirked.

"Let me guess," he said, unbuckling his sword belt, "after that, it all just went downhill fast." Simon nodded. Cerevin handed his sword to Simon and said, "hold this and holler if the port authority shows up. I'd rather they not know we're back in town."

Cerevin waded into the fray. He grabbed the arm of a sailor about to hit Krog, spun him around and punched him in the face. The man stumbled backwards, blood running out his nose. Cerevin shouted, "can't I leave you people alone for an hour?" He grinned and joined the brawl.