

_The Amashanae_

_By Timo Kettunen & Dee A. Heikkinen_

_SMASHWORDS EDITION_

_*****_

_Published by Timo Kettunen & Dee A. Heikkinen_

_Amashanae_

_Copyright © 2013 by Timo Kettunen & Dee A. Heikkinen_

The writing of the story began nearly a decade ago, and after years of rewriting, produced a tale of over 600 pages of dark fantasy - Amashanae being the first part of it now released. We would like to salute our families for supporting our endless writing and editing process. We originally wrote this book partly in Finnish, translating to English, and partly in English directly. Books 2 and 3 are be released in the hopefully near future, pending some final revisions.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

_*****_

_Air o' the Erstwhile Ages_

_When men_ _an' god were kin_

_Th'eys behind the great creation_

_Deemed us weak, forlorn_

_Bestowed_ _us plight and set the stone_

_To take a hold of time_

*****

PROLOGUE

An old man sat alone in his study, enjoying the warmth of flickering flames casting their friendly warmth on his bones from a cavernous fireplace across the small room of stone. In his hand he held an ornate silver goblet of blood-red wine, and he seemed to be immersed in thought as he studied the color of the drink, slowly rotating the glass and watching the wine swirl and then crawl down the sides, revealing the sweetness of the drink. He let out a sigh and sipped at it, then laid the goblet down on the table beside him. He let out another long breath. He was remembering the legends his old master had told, a young apprentice, such a long time ago...it felt like aeons had passed since those days of his youth. When he closed his eyes he could still hear the voice of his master reciting the legends echoing in his mind, and without him even realizing, his lips recited a passage half aloud; a chapter he himself had read to many a young apprentice as well:

'In a cold, silent cavern, set apart from the realm of men and detached from this world, an immense stone wheel stands...immobile as a statue carved out of the bedrock surrounding it, steady and solid like the axis wheel of our world. The wheel has remained motionless since time written, a thousand years or more; there is no telling of time, only the knowledge exists. It is said that the wheel shall turn again someday, as it has turned before, for this we know from legends that survived from father to son since in the dawn of history. It was also told that this movement would only take place in a time of great turmoil and change. Scholars and Templars before you have debated for years on whether the wheel would finally turn because of changes taking place around it - or whether the turning of the wheel would be a cause for changes to take place in this realm. Not known for certain, yet all our beliefs are built on the very existence of the wheel and its part in the creation and the destiny of our world and us, Templars. All this you hear is told by Templars and passed on to Templars, the precious few, for it is also said that the Templars shall have a very special role in the turning of the wheel when it takes place. Yet even we do not possess the information on where does the wheel reside; that is what we have studied and searched for as long as the Order has existed. We know the wheel is well hidden...somewhere out of reach of mortal men; perhaps in between the very spheres of gods, perhaps beneath the astral plane. Where exactly is lost to men. There are those who ask if it exists, or: if the wheel would suddenly inch forward in its forlorn grave, would anyone be any wiser of it? Be it the cause, or the effect...perhaps we shall never know. But it is one of the cornerstones of our faith and the very core of the legend of Templars. Still one thing is for certain, my apprentices...when the wheel shall move the world as we know it will change for ever.

His voice faded and his hold on the goblet relaxed; chin falling to his chest he fell asleep, deeply in thought of old legends. But his sleep was restless. He flew accross the land, an unknown fear behind him. Escaped death he could not see or fight. Fear gripped him, and he felt he was no longer himself, but transcended to another plane; he was big, young and powerful, but there was a terrible fright upon his being. The dream started to grow very vivid and more intricate, and he moaned in his sleep and gripped the arms of his chair.

It pressed on harder; he could feel his wings give way, he could feel a tear appear in the skin and he reeled in pain. But he struck back and it retreated. Time was no longer constant. Now his wings were intact again, now they were tearing again, and he saw himself where he had just been, on the edge of an abyss from where it reached to grab his tail, and he screamed in warning and heard the scream and roared at the beast. He saw he was young again, his skin smooth and seamless, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the battle, and he saw he was old, old as the sun itself, layers of time dragging on his face in deep drooves and his eyes staring from deep dark wells in desperation, and all the while he wrestled it. He saw the world tremble and dissolve into shreds only to return stronger; he fell down an endless well and the light at the end squeezed into a tiny speck in the darkness, but the light burned his eyes and nearly blinded him. And then he died -

"Sharn! Wake up! It is I, Talor!" someone gripped at his shoulders through the veil of sleep, and with a curious pang of disillusionment mixed in with relief he awoke, lifting his hands in defense. Seeing his friend he shook his head vigorously and drove away the memories of the dream, groping for wine again.

"Must have been quite a dream, Sharn?" Talor asked, kneeling at the fireplace and listlessly poking at the now almost dead embers lingering among the ashes.

"Quite a dream..." Sharn confirmed. "Talor, I fear the time of legends draws near. The beast is awake".

Talor nodded and ceased poking at the ashes.

"I agree, Sharn...at least there is something coming...and how I do regret it should happen at such a time, when we are so old and weak. I can feel the years deep in my very bones."

Sharn grimaced and closed his eyes.

"Perhaps the legends were right. Perhaps the wheel has moved, then. Perhaps it is just about to. Either way, there will be destruction...great destruction." He paused for a second and attempted to smile at Talor. "No need to remind me of how we have grown so very old already either. Time itself betrayed us; it leaped forward and lunged at our throats when we were busy living" he gestured at Talor, hands a theatrical grip and fingers spread, eyes blazing. "But there is still some power left in us!" he finished defiantly, falling back to his seat. Reaching for a bottle he filled his cup, shook his head as if to rid the heavy thoughts from his mind and sipped wine once more. Its sweet, pungent aroma soothed his mind, like it always did.

"I apologize, Sharn. Of course it is not my place to complain. After all, you are the last of the elders, you are the one who is a direct descendant of those who established the knighthood of Templars all those untold years ago. What I wanted to say was...today there are but a few Templars left to keep the faith. The old tales are becoming forgotten."

Sharn rose halfway up from his chair, staring at Talor's eyes intently. "I know what I have studied and I know the scriptures well, and I know these signs around us are the harbinger of doom to follow. Yes, the beast, Firnaraee, it was killed all those ages ago, sealed to a grave and buried deep, deep into the rock, generations before our time. It is not a faerytale. People used to know it well, they knew it as the demon of demons, the destroyer of worlds...if they had even an inkling now-"

"I am sorry, my friend, but you know it as well as I do; deep down, to all them, all the ignorant people it is just a story, a fragment of religion or faery tales told by old wives when the sun sets and darkness creeps over the village alleys."

Sharn landed his fist on the table so hard that the wine spilled from the glass and onto the table.

"Yet the story is very true!"

He stared at Talor, who bowed his head in agreement. Sharn sighed again. "Once upon the time the Templars were revered and listened to everywhere, and the stories regarded true. Yes, even I remember being young, great respect left for the Templars even then, but now..."

"I know it all too well, Sharn. As our ranks have so quickly dwindled, our fame had also evaporated. Time has passed us by."

Sharn's eyes wandered to a great book of history laid out before him on the table. I have done all that I can he reassured himself. I have spread the word the best I could. It was as if his friend had read his mind.

"We have certainly done everything in our power" Talor assured. People just do not believe in tales any more. There are plenty of charlatans preaching doom and damnation these days, plenty of strange things reported taking place. People do not know where to lay their trust. Orcs, Trolls, Goblins... further east in than ever before in the memory of this generation. Enough trouble to keep people busy and not worry about old legends."

"The beast is just another old wive's tale', I have been told. Old folklore. Yes. Oh, back in the day you would have lost your head confessing something like that to a Templar!"

"I fear we ourselves may have become mere legends over the years." Talor quietly added.  
"With just wine to sooth our nerves. Care for some?" He offered the glass to Talor who shook his head. Sharn walked to the window of his study and eyed the landscape in the stirring light of dawn. It offered him an unlimited view over the north side of the town of Kiarra. This was his world and he wanted nothing more than to alert its dwellers of the impending doom, yet no one seemed to want to listen. He eyed the stony north wall of Kiarra and how right behind them laid the fields that provided the wealth and the livelihood of the town. To the west, if he really strained his eyes, he could on a good day make out the distant lines of the great mountains that Orcs had inhabited since the times unknown. He also knew that if one should travel further northbound, one would eventually reach other great mountain ranges. But before that there would be the elven tribes, who ruled the northern regions of Brodérunn...until the realms of dragons even further north, where hardly any man ever ventured. All this he knew from the scriptures, for he was a scholar and a knight. But, alas, the lowly inhabitants and the merchants of Kiarra, they had little understanding of the world they lived in. They were only interested in immediate events and tangible issues. He sighed again and gazed east towards where, in great distance, the dwarfs dwelled in their mysterious kingdoms. Even though too far to see, he knew the mountain ranges far away in each direction created a sort of a bowl, and this entire area was known as Brodérunn. Beyond the mountains, the end of the world; afterworld, Valhalla... and the wheel of time, perhaps. All of this would now be in grave danger. The bowl would be filled to the brim with blood of men and other beings alike when the beast would begin its reign.

Sharn gazed at what remained of his wine.

"Cannot blame the simple people; they live their short lives in the present, worrying little about the beliefs or the fates of their ancestors." he finally spoke.

"I expected little when we approached the town council, but it seemed our word weighed at least some...enough to be heard at least, if not taken for truth."

Talor snorted dismissively.

"The measures they have taken ate small...far too small, it is more like they agreed on them only for courtesy's sake. Probably more due to whatever remained of their respect for the Templars that caused them to heed your warnings a little. Yet, at least they agreed to keep the town gates closed for now."

"Ah, but which is only convenient now that there are no crops to move at this time of the year and the town will merely enjoy a short break in the influx of outsiders." Sharn mused.

"Well, they also promised to set up a committee to make plans for any sudden attacks..." Talor defended the council, but caved before Sharn's intent stare. "...but you are right in the end of course, they did not really believe. Only believed in traditions that mandated they should take a Templar's advice when such was offered. But their hearts were not in it."

"I suppose that is better than nothing. I can only hope the word reaches other towns soon as well." Sharn concluded and Talor fell silent once again. He knew that as the beast would arrive soon, and it would draw in all kinds of evil creatures around. They would come to him like bees to honey. And as the evil would start to pour from the hills...well, at least then people would believe.

He made a wry smile. Times for sure are changing. Back in his mind he glimpsed an image of a great wheel slowly creaking forward.

"Valet!" he commanded, setting his wine down.

The servant appeared from behind curtains quickly enough to startle Talor.

"Milord?"

"Ah. Prepare my armour." He paused for a while. "I intend to be ready."

The valet bowed to both Templars and with that, vanished behind the curtains on the given errand. Sharn stood up and straightened his jacket. Then he reached for the goblet again and drank the rest of the wine, feeling the spirits of it warm his old gullet. He bowed at his friend and with that he stepped out of the room and headed down the staircase and towards the armoury.

*****

"Have ye ever...h seen as be...beautiful woman as...she is?" a very drunken man whispered to another man sitting opposite him at a table, resting his jaw on his arm at a table in a tavern where the two of them had spent the better part of their second day in Salvatágg. The place was to both of their liking; a lively tavern filled with the roar and laughter of people having fun. In a corner a group of hairy dwarfs singing their peculiar songs and drinking, looking for any loose gold that might be quietly relieved from the care of a careless drunkard. Next to them, a group of alchemists were cautiously watching the scene and drinking their potions. There were both noblemen as well as lesser dwellers of Brodérunn, al happily drinking together.

"I mean, look...at th-that skin." he stuttered, "...and those breasts! Ah, one could kill for a body like that" he muttered to his companion, who also had kept a keen eye on the figure all evening.

"Yes, Juara, but, I fear she is not such a woman that could appreciate you, my friend."

The whole evening they had been knocking down large tankards of beer, sitting in the glow of torches hanging from the high walls and closely watching this particularly striking female opposite them a few tables of. They had not actually seen her face at all, for she wore a hood over her face that hid her features. Yet a sort of primordial instinct possessed them like honey attracts bees. A female with such a body simply could not be ordinary and uninteresting. Juara concentrated on uttering words carefully and with pronounced stress like a drunken man would, almost desperately trying to emphasize how he sees things with such elevated degree of interest right then and there. "I feel...I am ab...absolutely drawn to...her, um, ample cleavage" he continued. "Almost as strongly I am partial to this great ale". But the other man already seemed more interested in the group of half-naked girls dancing by the far wall and paid no great attention to companion's drunken analysis of the woman.

"Those there are more your class, Juara" he said an nodded at them. There was a gruesome-looking man next to the dancers, clad in studded leather and cursing and pushing aside too enthusiastic onlookers, making sure the girls did their part as required, and the man eyed the guardian as if pondering if he could beat him in a fight.

"And...meh too, I figure" he then continued.

Juara looked at his companion with dull eyes and sighed.

"Well, perhaps some more beer, then?" he then asked. Normally – as a warrior should – he would need his senses to be as sharp as a blade and would not get this drunk. However it was usually quite safe to get properly loaded around these corners. "First more beer, and then...yer harlots, eh?"

"Ye certainly like yer women, 'tho seems to me they've brought nothing but trouble for ye!" the other chuckled. And very true it rang too in Juara's ears, because the very reason he was lying here drunk as hell with his newfound friend was – once again he might add – due to a woman. Having arrived to Kamatayaport, nearby seafaring city a few weeks earlier, he had first been a little down on his luck and out of lucrative prospects. Out of sheer luck he had however come across a lucrative mission from a very wealthy local merchant. There were plenty of merchants in Kamatayaport, for it was the only large city in the south of Brodérunn with easy access to the Great Sea and all the goods imported from distant lands had to arrive through there.

Juara had already told the gist of the story to the other man; a wealthy merchant's dear daughter had gone missing, and although he (claimed he had) considered such a task a bit cheap for a warrior of his stature, he had accepted, hoping to improve his financial situation quite considerably. As it had turned out, the wench had actually escaped his father in an effort to avoid an unpleasant marriage, and also had turned out to be quite a piece of work in many other respects too. All of which resulted in him and the merchant's daughter 'sort of getting it together' and then making for parts unknown with a good chunk of daddy's wealth, which turned out to be rather unfortunate for Juara, for the merchant had not taken the whole affair lightly, especially with the moneys involved, and the warrior had had to make a hasty exit via the desert of Kamatayan, swordsmen hot on his trail. However, he had made it safe, and having arrived to Salvatágg a day before, he had soon befriended a fellow warrior also looking for some good time and strong beer, and – most importantly – was not short of cash nor tight with his purse.

So beer they had drunk; beer had certainly been guzzled down quite a lot. But by now the day had grown dark and amorous sounds began to be heard over the racket of the bar, emanating from the darkened booths around the sides of the large room. Juara began thinking about things other than beer, drooling after the divine fairness they had been eyeing.

"Don't know ab'ut the beauty, could that kind of...angelic creature be from these realms, but...but... " He muttered to no-one in particular, struggled and managed to generate a few sober words for his drunken friend's amusement. "Ye are wrong about class and all...she be perfect for me!"

"Hah! And ye believe she's game?"

"She will be for me!"

"So, let us see ye go for her?" the other man – not quite as drunk as his friend – bent closer and whispered, awaken from the lure of the dancers still desperately entertaining the crowd. "I mean, she looks quite angry and I bet she is stronger than she looks like...well, I most definitely do want to see this!" he glanced at the woman again. She certainly did seem capable of defending herself. She had managed to sit by herself the whole evening, barely touching her tankard on the black table in front of her. Perhaps this was due to her rigid posture, clearly constantly monitoring the situation in the bar, hooded head bowed down a little, clearly signaling not wanting to be disturbed by either men or beasts.

"Ah, non...sense!", Juara exclaimed. "I am just what she needs!" and winked, but the other interrupted, suddenly looking worried.

"Juara...there is something... something I ca not explain", looking at the dark, still figure of the woman.

"Rubbish", Juara grinned and without further ado promptly stood up and tottered towards the mysterious lady. Her face was still shadowed by her hood, and she remained motionless as a statue at her table as the man approached her, navigating through the crowd.

"Well, are we all right, there, peach?" he begun, leaning over the woman a little, laid his knuckles on the table and concentrated his efforts to act at least a bit sober, if not very respectfully.

"Now, I just know that ye have waited for someone like me the whole evening, and... um, well here I am! At your service and for your enjoyment", he finished, laughed, and unabashedly tried to slide his hand on those well-proportioned breasts. His hand made maybe twelve inches of her body, when he suddenly realized that he was sprawling on the table, a pint of flat beer being pourn on his face, and the next second he was on the floor on his ass and with a wet face. And the woman was just sitting there again, as if nothing had happened, unfliching.

"What in the name of Th'aro..." Juara glared at her, and she broke her posture and lifted her hood for a fleeing moment, giving him a curl of her lip. "What? Ye are a...well yeh're going to pay for this all the same...", Juara yelled bewildered in his stupor, groping for support from the table and getting up, but suddenly eased off a bit and fell back on his backside and roared with laughter, "I like them feisty! We will have such a great time, ye and me!" He jumped up and began again to approach the woman, but just at that very moment his intentions were interrupted. Someone near the door screamed a warning that froze everyone's blood with fright:

"Trolls!"

All Juaras senses flared to life as if he had been poked with a red-hot iron, and he swerved around quick as lightning. He was just in time to see a big, grayish-green troll storm through the wall of the inn with a huge stone ax in its hand, and proceed straight to clawing at the nearest drunk with its hairy, muscular arms, shredding his throat with its long bare nails before anyone had time to react. The victim's scream of fright was horribly turned into meregarbling as the roar of laughter and music had so suddenly ceased. The troll pushed onward, letting out a truly inhuman scream. Juara, rapidly sobering with a rush of adrenaline in his veins, did not wait for more trolls to push in their ugly heads through the opening, and bounced back to his table to retrieve his steel, shaking his head trying to shake the rest of his drunken stupor away. He eyed around for his friend, but all he saw was the poor man already being torn apart by another troll that had lunged into the tavern right after the first one. Everything turned to completely mayhem in mere moments. Even though he well knew there was nothing to do for his companion anymore, he nevertheless lunged to rescue without second thought. Perhaps he felt a twinge of moral obligation to avenge the poor fellow, too, or maybe his rage was fuelled by his supply of free drinks having been cut short and the unlucky encounter with the mysterious woman. Whatever his reasons to engage in the fight, now it became obvious he was quite skilled a warrior, not just any common man, and the first abominable creature soon lost its arms as his blade whirled into action. An instant later its foul head followed suit. The warrior quickly grabbed a torch from the nearest wall and tossed it on the spastic corpse. It burst on flames and the disgusting smell of burning flesh mingling with the demonic screams of death in the room ringing in his ears made him grin.

"Burn 'em!" he screamed for the others. "It be the only way to kill the bastards!"

Even as he fought the trolls in the mayhem and panic all around, his sobering head was fervently pondering the situation. There was something wrong about this. Just seconds ago he had been having fun and drinking and now he was thrown in the middle of a living inferno with cries of agony all around. He could not understand why trolls, who seldom had enough courage to get even near towns of this size, so far from the mountains, had all of a sudden attacked the tavern. Where from are they? And there was something else wrong as well, but the veil of beer still hung too heavy on him. More trolls poured in, torches were thrown about and onto them, and more men joined the fight with whatever weapons they carried. Men and trolls fell over each other in a bloody pile. He sliced a troll head in half only to see in the corner of his eye that even more trolls kept pouring in like a flood of greenish, vile flesh. They seemed to be a mix of races and even half-breeds like the one he had just killed, which made things even stranger for him. Juara realized the fight was not favorable to him, unable to shake the weight of beer on him, and he eyed for an exit while continuing fighting like a soldier he had been trained to be. But trolls are very hard to kill indeed. As if proving their relentlessness, a grey mountain troll with half his forehead chopped off lunged at Juara but was left groping for his legs, as he jumped on a table and over to the next, over the head of a desperate inngoer who quickly met with death instead in the hands of the wounded troll.

"Lady!" he shouted aloud, remembering the beautiful figure and wondering about her fate and spun around, but the seat she had occupied by the table was empty. Outside the inn he heard new voices – the city guards joining the battle. He knew they would have torches ready, as only fire was really effective against trolls. The smell of death, blood and fear in the air was almost palpable and he decided to withdraw the fight and leave it for the guards. This was not his battle. He had lost his new friend in a flash of a claw already, and at any rate, he realized he was still too drunk to keep up the fight much longer.

"By The Gods of Two Skies, what are trolls doing in town...it just never happens", he muttered to himself, cursed again under his breath and ran out of the now all but ruined tavern while more and more city guards were appearing at the scene. No need to hang around here for questions, he thought. He needed to find a place to sober up and decide what to do. He glanced around to see if the mysterious female was anywhere to be seen, but saw nobody but guards running with torches towards the tavern. Her eyes...I need to find out more about her he thought, shook his head and vanished into the night as a ghost. Equally undetected, a small, but cat-like creature creature slipped into the shadows following his trail but a few moments behind.

CHAPTER 1

A caravan of a few dozen wagons was encamped near a large dune of sand to their north, giving them some well-needed protection from the chilly night wind of the Kamatayan desert. Despite the fact that the Great Sea bordered the desert in the south, it was one of the deadest and most desolate corners of Brodérunn. At nightfall the cold northern wind always began humming its ceaseless melodies after what had almost certainly been a scorching day. Dunes of sand rested calmly as if they had rested there since the Time of Oblivion. Yet it was folly to think that they had – the winds of the desert constantly pushed, and inch by every inch they changed form and shape, forever travelling across the wasteland from the north, making maps and descriptions of routes obsolete overnight. Once in a long while a real sandstorm would also attack the dry soil with a might so strong it toyed with the grains as if a child building sandcastles, able to cover entire cities or reveal things hidden from the eyes of the living for a thousand years. But now the wind was gentle, was the pale moon cast down its weak beacon over the caravaners who accepted the light with gratitude. Moonless nights provided too good opportunities for prowling predators, so any light was most welcome. Because, although few and far between, in such a desolate country, the predators of the wasteland certainly were something to be afraid of. They also provided an endless source of horrors for old wife's tales. Certainly it was not just tales – there were plenty of beasts of various sizes roaming the desert. Yet, for the moment being - apart from the sound of the cold breeze - the desert beyond the caravaner camp seemed quite silent. Only rarely might the silence become disturbed when some small mammal or a scale-clad reptilian let out its final breath and became sustenance for a predator. And even then the wind suffocated the sounds of death immediately. Desert gives no mercy, and nobody dared the dangers of the desert alone. However, there were thing that all predators and beasts of the night were afraid of – such as fire. There was no person who would face the desert night without at least a torch. A torch would serve as a weapon against trolls as well as provide warmth and light in the chilling desert night. Only the craziest bandits who considered the desert as their home were insane enough to travel there without any kind of flame. This particular southwest corner of the desert was frequented by caravans making a shortcut between Kamatayaport and Salvatágg to peddle their wares all around the southern Brodérunn, but few ventured to the eastern parts of the desert, which still remained uncharted territory - at least for human species. Although too far to see, to the east great mountains rose abruptly from the desert floor as if truly created there by the dwarf god Groma, marking the borders of their realm.

There was always traffic across this part of the desert between north and south, and people to challenge its dangers, risking their lives just because their living depended on trading in the towns and cities surrounding the desert. According to the usual custom, the caravan had arranged their wagons haphazardly in a form of a semi-circle against the dune, as if to seek cover from whatever there was lurking in the shadows of the desert. There were several campfires here and there where small groups of people gathered around; elders telling stories, some of the travel-weary men getting drunk and women giggling or cursing at their intoxicated husbands. Those more experienced with the hardship of crossing the desert kept their bottles closed and rather gathered around a group of entertainers also making their way to Kamatayaport, happy to show off their talents to the fellow travelers and their children. One of the other campfires, however, had also attracted around it an especially large group of curious caravaners. It was not because of especially tender heat at this campfire, but most likely due to a mystic female figure apparently telling a story. This mystic female had nothing to do with the usual band of the caravaners, but she had joined their assembly as they had departed Salvatágg. It was not uncommon for travelers to join the caravans crossing the desert, for trying to cross the desert alone was certainly a task only a fool would undertake, however, caravans were eager to take onboard anyone who could share a piece of copper to pay for protection.

Campfires usually kept predators at bay during the night, but when hunger was at its most extreme, even large caravans could become too enticing targets. Extra travellers were usually welcome, becouse they provided the people of the caravan with much appreciated news of the world and sometimes even entertainment. This was probably why everyone at the fire listened to the tale she was telling with eager ears, albeit many of them were also leery of any strangers travelling amongst them. This one definitely seemed an interesting one.

"I just...woke up...grew back... to this world... I mean that in single moment I just realized I existed, in a way", the woman was telling the people. She paused for awhile. Her voice was smooth and soft and drifted off her lips effortlessly yet languidly; it would have required a skilled listener to detect any uncertainty.

"And I did not remember anything..." she continued, "...nothing but three names. One is my own, one I think belonges to my sister, and one..." she fell mute and appeared to be immersed in thought, confused. All the onlookers watched and waited for her next words.

"...and one whose owner I can not summon up", she completed. "I can not remember much of my past, save for only a few memories..." Even as she admitted the fact aloud, she felt revolting shivers running along her spine. Still she ventured on in an eloquent, storytelling fashion:

"However, I know that somewhere out there, there is someone whose veins enclose the same kind of blood I carry, whose blood is from the same fountain as mine. She is the one I am trying to find" She paused for a time and looked away from the campfire that was crackling and hissing in front of her, fighting a slow battle against the biting evening wind of the wastelands, and to any observer it would have seemed as if she had suddenly become unaware of the people hunched around the fire. Her eyes happened on a dark, cloaked figure of a man who vanished onto the background of people around the fires before she could recognize. She felt a twinge of uneasy fear. Maybe it had been a mistake to start telling stories here. But it was the way of the caravaners; every traveler was expected to provide some entertainment in the form of telling stories of faraway lands they had come from. It was almost like a rule that if one wished to enjoy the safety of a caravan company, they would have to share not only their copper, but also what they knew of the world around them, as many caravaners never really traveled elsewhere than the same routes back and forth all their lives. Stories of distant lands and cities were hard currency in their minds, and they listened to her every word with keen ears.

There were thirty or forty men in all, not including their wives and children, in this makeshift caravan camp. Now that the evening was drawing in, they had all gathered around fires made of twigs and dried animal excrement, some nursing bottles of beer or palm-tree liqueur in their hands, while some others were still readying their caravans and feeding the beasts of burden before the nightfall. The caravan seemed like a happy bunch; there were smiling faces everywhere, mischievous kids sneaking out into the desert in search on tiny adventures, and wives yelling at them to keep close to the caravan. It had appeared to be a safe choice to be travelling with, but having seen such a sinister figure watching her intently by the fire she now thought it might have been more than just sensible to keep much of her situation to herself after all. She suddenly understood how it would be all too easy to get killed, or at least clubbed, in these parts, for any given reason. She knew she could stand her ground against most enemies, but she certainly did not desire to come round somewhere in the wilderness, mugged and violated. But there was nothing to do about it now. Rubbish! A Voice whispered in her head. It was weak, barely audible – but it was there. Whenever she hesitated, which was rarely, the same voice appeared from out of nowhere, telling her things. Even though the appearances were rare, she had noticed that she could even talk to it, and it would respond. I know the voice agreed to confirm. It seemed to her that whatever the voice told her was the truth; she had learned to trust it. She might not know who she was, or who the voice was, but she knew she had done bad things, perhaps downright evil things, and she dared not question the voice. It was best just to take it for what it was. Guidance. She flinched when she realized the crowd was staring at her, waiting for her to continue the tale. She had uttered her words and she would soon see where that would lead her.

"As you know, I left along with this caravan of merchants two days ago from Salvatágg." The fact that before meeting the caravaners she had escaped from Taràyam, where some the citizens had suddenly become hostile towards her even though she did not really know why, she decided to keep to herself. Because before Taràyam there was little she remembered, and she did not want to end up chased away for saying the wrong thing.

"I had only realized I existed – as I know myself now – about three lunar circles ago. Ever since that I have just been wandering around, trying to find the sister I believe I have. And perhaps even a meaning for my travels on this earth." Although she was, in a way, like an innocent child in this realm, she had already met many dangers and encountered more wrath than she had expected. Nevertheless, she somehow, almost instinctively, knew many things about this realm. One was that she was not like others. Her skin was of different color, her features, eyes...everything. She had tried to seek the company of her own kin, but for some reason she could not understand why she had found none. That might be the reason for her being ignored and repelled, but she could not stop thinking of why she had woken in this strange part of Brodérunn where she apparently had no place – or reason – to be. But could she reveal her true appeareance here?

Lacking information of her past was not all that bothered her. There was also the fact that she actually still intermittently had completely blank periods, and the notion of deeds she might or might not have done under these times of darkness gnaved at her. Thus she had little knowledge of the reason people had rejected her. One's journey can be difficult indeed when the both the past and present is constantly more or less clothed in a shadowy cloak, she had bitterly pondered. She had a nagging suspicion that her race was a hated one, and because she had the ability to hurt, even kill, under the effect of something one cannot explain, she might indeed be a threat to others.

Under these circumstances she would have preferred travelling alone. Yet it was not wise to tempt the biting winds or the merciless bandits of the Kamatayan Desert. She did not wish to face the desert night alone. Even though she had an inkling that she perhaps was strong enough to fight even quite a large number of enemies, it seemed definitely wiser to keep up with a group. The merchants had been there as if by invitation, because things in Salvatágg seemed to be getting difficult once again, or at least she had begun to worry about things too much. There was too much unrest around. Although she had tried her best to steer clear of problems, it started to seem impossible to achieve this side of Brodérunn. Thus, she had joined their party as they were heading out to the wasteland. While they were travelling she wanted to keep them at a distance, but the cold climate had forced her, like the rest of the group, to congregate near the fire. Not very surprisingly, they had then induced her into telling them something about herself, as their habits mandated. And she had complied without thinking much, lulled into the relaxing sounds of the caravan settling for the night. Everything seemed so peaceful. But then she again awoke from her distraught thoughts when someone asked,

"So what is it?" and she felt utterly lost for words for a second.

"What?", she replied, looking stunned.

"Your name?" the man inquired again, humored by her plight and apparent confusion. "You see, we never see any of your kin in these parts." She gathered her thoughts, felt a pinch of anger in her heart because of their taking her plight so lightly, stared at the inquirer, gnashing her teeth together and striking in to interrupt the amused whispering of the men.

"Amashanae!"

And then she allowed her hood to slide away from her face and down to the half of her back and let the red flames of the campfire have a change to shed enough light to her features to reveal her beautiful appearance.

Dead silence fell over the men. What a stunning vision she was. There was some unexplainably divine quality of beauty about her. The lineaments of her face, attractive yet coarse, made her look very exotic and her perfect milk-like skin, color of amber, blazed in competition with that of the campfire. Her long hair, black as the darkest night of Brodérunn and yet smooth as silk landed in thick streams by her neck, settling seductively on her shoulders and from there, over the mystical blade tied on her back, somewhere inside her robe. Her shoulders and her robust yet well-formed arms were ornamented with mysterious tattoos that seemed to flare as if they were magical. A necklace, presenting an irregular, unique-looking symbol, dangled from her neck and landed on a pair of firm, buxom breasts covered by a perfectly fitted garment. Even if she only remembered three months of life she clearly knew how to exploit the power of her beauty to the fullest. But what mostly intrigued the admiring men were her eyes. They were the purest tone of glod and green darkness, looking like a pair of two perfect, almond-shaped diamonds, casting silent shimmer everywhere around. They were the kind of eyes impossible to gaze at without falling in, at least a little, and the men around her found themselves virtually drawn to them.

"Oh, how beautiful!", one exclaimed in almost rapturous voice.

"Divine!" Even the women present seemed awestruck by her appearance, but soon turned to scold their men to stop their leering, jealous of their open lust and admiration for this woman.

"An elf?" Someone shouted from behind the lines of men.

A quiet fell over the campfire and people around stopped on their tracks. Amashanae was on the alert because these things had happened before. Now it was obvious that her race stirred up responses in people. She was not afraid of the merchants. No, she could manage them easily. Rather than that, she was afraid simply because she did not know why people always seemed to react to her race. Whispers started to fly again, more people crowded in nearer their fire and finally someone built up the courage to ask, very carefully, but very intently:

"Would you happen to be the elf they say stirred up trouble in Taràyam a while back? Not many elves around here?"

There was a wave of confusion as the revelation of her race and name caused among the people. An elf? A fugitive maybe? What had she done in Taràyam? The intensity and the level of the sound emanating from the crowd started to build and disordered murmur started to straggle among the merchants and other travelers. They began discussing the turn of the events, whispering to each other and casting looks at the elf still watching them intently. The desert was not a place to be trifled with; there was hardly room in the caravan for anyone with too many mysteries. And an elf in these parts alone would indeed be considered a mystery.

"What shall we do with her?" and such questions were thrown about. It was an unwritten rule of the caravan – never risk the safety of a larger group in favor of that of a solitary traveler. But soon Amashanae cut it short with a simple question.

"Why would you do anything?" she asked hoping to obtain even a little hint why she suddenly felt assailed, and feeling absolutely alerted by all the commotion. The crowd fell silent, unsure of what would be the right course of action to take, and felt perhaps a twinge of fear towards the woman, still as motionless as a statue. Then someone shouted out:

"She must be up to something – an elf conjurer! In the name of Arnonos, it's best to kill her before she bewitches all of us!" and she knew things could not go on well after that. Even if they were all regular travelling folk, they feared the unknown as much as any other less civilized people. And on the desert any fear would be that much greater and quickly turn into rage against the unknown.

A second passed, then another, the men stepped a few paces back and checked their weapons. Amashanae stared at the crowd. Some of the men took a few tentative steps forward, with frantic expressions on their faces, as the crowd kept whispering. She gave a chilling stare to the nearest man, who reeled a bit in hesitation, but still eyed Amashanae with eyes full of sudden fear and hate mixed with a generous amount of lust. The man was big indeed and a big man possessed by rage is always dangerous. How she wished why they hated her kin so much. Amashanae nerved herself but did not budge at all. Stationary she examined the man who suddenly spat on the ground and drew his sabre. Before anyone had had time to comprehend what was happening the man was already making towards Amashanae, screaming a curse and with his blade aimed at her chest. But still she did not move. Still she did not try to reach for her sword. Because she knew – she knew what would happen soon. She knew how the attacker would soon lie low. Dead. That is something she did not want to happen but had learned would happen, no matter how she tried to stop it. She closed her eyes, bit her teeth together and concentrated to not reacting against her own free will. She failed. The man with the sabre managed another few feet until Amashanae suddenly pounced. Like a panther protecting its litter and only blood-lusting revenge on its mind she bore down upon the attacker who hardly had time to realize what was going on. Whether he understood or not, he soon lay on the ground and a patch of dark blood under his corpse was spreading fast, his sabre thrown on the sandy soil. Amashanae's whole body was trembling but she looked calm and serene as ever.

A hysterical flutter of noises overcame the party, and all of them retreated further from the beauty – or the beast – watching their every move intently. Somebody sobbed, but not one said a thing. Even though she wished with every fiber of her being that they would let it be, let her be, she sensed that behind her a pack of fighters started to rally up. Like any cornered warrior her senses prepared her to fight, and she felt her wrists itching as adrenaline raged through her veins. Still she managed to stay still for now. This might turn into one of those blank periods of hers. But looking at the corpse lying before her, she suddenly feared this could lead to annihilation of the whole caravan. But at least for the time being she felt somewhat in control again. She felt almost giddy with the feeling of power, and her mind seemed on the verge of realization of something very important. But she did not want to kill anyone. If killing were to take place, it would definitely happen against her free will. So she stayed put, with a fever of battle rising in her eyes. Try to think clearly. If she adjudicated doom to a pack of innocent people, her reputation certainly would not improve. She cursed in her mind.

"You needn't have killed him", a man hissed behind her to the right, creeping a little closer. Amashanae did not turn her head. She heard a rustle of metal on her left as another man drew out his blade and hissed between his teeth:

"For this, you will die...", but his words were masked by another voice cutting in casually:

"But why, ahem, He was the one who...hmm, shall we say, insulted this fine lady here".

Amashanae opened her eyes and quickly tilted around. There was a dagger pressing on the throat of one of the men who had circled her. It was held by the dark, cloaked figure she had seen earlier, and he was stopping the advance of the others towards Amashanae and drawing attention towards him. Amashanae quickly assessed her situation. There were seven men behind her, six of them in awkward postures, blades drawn, halted on their tracks while they eyed the new threat, unsure of how to proceed. The cloaked, sinister figure holding the dagger also puzzled Amashanae. Is he a member of this party? Turning against his kind? Yet his dark cloak bore little reminiscence to the coarse white-brown and black robes of the others.

"Having a little trouble here, are we?" the man continued jocundly, now looking at Amashanae but not for a second relaxing his grip on the dagger that looked dangerously sharp while resting on the other man's throat. The caravaner kept still like a statue in fear for his life, sweat quickly beginning to trickle down his brow, and only his eyes moved around frantically. Then there was a sudden thud as the hostage suddenly realized he still held his blade and let it drop as if it was a red-hot poker. The cloaked figure chuckled at this belated response, stared down the rest of the bunch with a vicious glance and grin, and turned back to Amashanae, smiling. There was mockery in his smile, and he was obviously having fun on behalf of Amashanae and the caravan men. Amashanae made a long stare back, not knowing what to make of this quite yet, and uttered slowly,

"The only one who needs help is you."

The cloaked man's leer slackened a bit as he glanced around him at the caravan's quite large population now gathering around them. Amashanae just grinned. Suddenly, before anyone could react, sand flew around her in a circle as she made a sweeping evasive movement, kicking up dirt, and made away from the crowd in a flash, leaving the man holding a dagger surrounded by enemies from all sides.

The dry, sandy and hard soil of the desert drummed under Amashanae's feet as soon as she had slipped past the edges of the trodden, broken campsite soil and it made for a formidable surface to run on. She ran like the wind, at first giving little thought to anything but escape. But she could not ignore the sound of combat heighten behind her as she slipped between the outer barrier of canvas tents and ran clear of the camp. She ran effortlessly, relieved to be out of the situation. Nevertheless she could not help but ponder whether her mysterious helper would after all be worthy of helping. Would he survive such a trick? Also, the man seemed to be somewhat familiar, but there were no recollections of him in her conscious mind.

"No...no one is important...no-one but...my own kin", she said aloud between breaths and her eyes turned into determined slits, and as she ran the fire died in her chest and the whole situation began to seem like an unpleasant dream to her, a nightmare she did not quite understand. She did not stop until she came to be sure that no one followed her. Gradually she slowed her pace, listening for the sounds of a possible pursuit, until she stopped still, panting from the physical effort. She looked around in all directions. The land around her certainly earned the name wasteland. The camp was still within sight but there was no indication of anyone following her. For the time being, at least, but this was exactly the kind of situation she had wanted to avoid; no shelter or people to travel with. A lone figure without a horse would not only attract all kinds of unwanted attention, but also be in serious problems in this barren country.

"Wasteland... she said aloud while gazing at the vast, dead expanse around her. The voice tried to add something, but she ignored it, pressing it in the back of her mind before she even knew what it was saying. This was not as bad as it looked, she made herself think. Typical to elves, she had no problems seeing even in almost pitch black darkness that had already fallen over the dismal landscape. The moon had just begun its overnight journey over the land, but after the dawn would start to displace the chillness of the night with the scorching rays of the sun, there would be problems. She would desiccate.

Amashanae felt a sudden pang of terror, for she had no water with her whatsoever. She gave herself a short moment for intense consideration and decided she had better to start looking for something – anything – to keep her alive under the desert sun. Yet there seemed to be no shelter to be found, and Amashanae already felt her energy draining as she begun to doubt her chances of survival. This brought back all kinds of disturbing thoughts, and finally she let herself drop down on the desert floor, giving in to the desperation. Crouching on the sand she rubbed her arms and looked around in the darkness but saw nothing at all.

What to do?

Again she had gotten into trouble, and again she had not been able to stop it from happening. It was almost too hard to remember what it was that had actually happened, but at least this time she had not blacked out. Something happened with her hands again. It was as if she had had no hands anymore but rather claws or talons. She did not know what actually happened in these cases, but what she had learned was that when danger loomed over her they would provide protection, even though she could not consciously control them. Even though she tried her best to stop it, they seemed to do what they willed. All this confused her even further. She stared at her hand, perfectly normal in the pale moonlight.

Who am I and what am I looking for? Amashanae thought, desperately trying to make sense of the whirlpool of emotions raging in her head, her elven eyes still trying to find any guiding features of land in the surrounding expanse of the desert. There was the steady wind of Kamatáyan showing her the direction south, so she did not feel utterly lost and misplaced in this empty darkness. Still, albeit she knew her name and approximate location, it was pretty much the size of her knowledge.

Why am I known in so many places and why am I hated to such an extent? Where is my sister, Hashalia? Where is my family, my father, my mother?

Streams of images crossed her mind while she begun to tread from dune to dune, trying to find at least some kind of sign of shelter, or perhaps an oasis, before the dawn would break.

To whom belongs the name Tahlthar?

She knew she was a highly trained fighter. That much was evident. Yes, and then there were the hands. But little did this understanding help her now.

"Who am I", she whispered, almost desperately, into the darkness that surrounded her like a silvery cloak over her elven eyes.

CHAPTER 2

Lieutenant L'moen was parading nervously in the throne room of the Thraewyns palace. He was trying to ease his mind by presenting himself as noble and important in front of the handful guards and servants present. It helped little: he was very worried and could not hide it, no matter how hard he wished. He kept constantly glancing to the shadowy corners of the large room, as if afraid that at any moment someone might shoot a poisonous arrow through his body from the darkness surrounding the room. His full plate mail seemed to weigh heavier and heavier by the minute and his sweaty hands crawled down to finger the grip of his long sword. Examined the rich tapestry on the stony walls and the high, narrow openings that let only a little light sneak into the room, he was not really noticing any of it, his mind busy with other thoughts; failing a mission given to him. In Thraewyns failure was not ligthly look upon. He was frantically pondering about various ways of breaking the news, but time was running short. Things had evolved in too rapid a succession – where there had been simple tasks and plenty of time before, he now felt he was constantly under-prepared for the development of the situation.

Yet, in all fairness, none of this was his fault, after all. No, he had followed the instructions to the letter, it was the cursed Orcs that had went ahead and done it. Yes, Raelia Elvenkiller, the mistress and the high priestess of the Firnaraee-cult had especially underlined that no one beside her were allowed to open it. No one. And those damn, brainless, useless, stinking Orcs had gone and done just that! L'moen tried to come up with something more he could use as an explanation to her, a lever he could employ to tilt the scales of justice in his favor, but he could not. He knew that when he would tell the bad news to Raelia, there would be no such powers that could protect him from her anger. He could have tried to escape but there was his honor. Furthermore, he was afterl all one of her highest-ranking lieutenants and maybe, just maybe, she would consider that in his favor. He would go straight to the issue, tell her straight away that he had done everything in his power in order to avoid this wrongdoing, and that it had been the damned Orcs that had disregarded his strict instructions and done what they always did the best: made a great mess out of the whole situation. Even the human captains had apparently not been able to prevent the Orcs from ruining it all. He would present his case proud and sure of himself. That might well be his only salvation.

L'moen swept drops of perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand. A door opened.

"Her majestic mistress Raelia Elvenkiller has arri...", a servant begun, but was cut short and pushed harshly to the side.

"Shut up you fool, you maggoty bag" Raelia snapped coldly and scorned him, not making a slightest effort to fake any respect for her lackeys. Who basically included everyone expect a select few in her innermost circle. "I believe L'moen knows very well who I am", she hissed between her closed lips and looked straight at L'moen who immediately fell on his knees and pressed his forehead on the floor in an eager salute.

"Stand up and look at me, liutenant", Raelia spat out arrogantly and with a dry laughter in her voice.

As always, Raelia did enjoy her underling's plight and anxious servitude, but this time the urgency of the matter kept her from enjoying the situation. For the time being, at least. L'moen peevishly looked up to Raelia and pondered how anyone so beautiful could be so evil and unsympathetic. Beautiful she was, indeed, with clear features and a noble profile. And the luxurious gown she wore alleviated her fair appearance even further. There might have been other, younger priestesses able to rival her when it came to beauty, but none could enjoy the full effect of the gowns in her possession. And, understanding the standing and the nature of Raelia, not one would probably even dare to try and outshine her if one respected one's life. The precious stones that circled the neckpiece of her gown shone a cold beauty that reflected on her face and hair and L'moen once again found himself thinking about what might happen if she had been on his level in the hierarchy.

"Well, did you find it or not?" Raelia interrupted his dreaming, already starting to look impatient. L'moen faltered, caught off-guard once again, even though he had had plenty of time to prepare. It was something that often happened to men when faced with the cold beauty of Raelia.

"Um, yes, but..."

"Excellent!" Raelia yelled out spreading her hands and looking thriumphantly around the room. "Finally it has been found – and I, Raelia Elvenkiller, am the finder of our long lost destiny" Her eyes blazed as she reveled over the prospect.

For centuries the Firnaraee-cult has been searching for this treasure, this ancient grave that so many had already believed to exist only in old wives' tales. Indeed it was a secret so old that even the original scriptures that had once formed the basis for her cult had long since been eaten away by the wear of time despite their efforts to preserve the precious fragments of their origin. Generations after generations of high priestesses had dreamed of this day, and all the former high priestess had held the same purpose in their life – to find the source. Now Raelia finally had done it. She had found the grave of Firnaraee, the ancient bringer of devastation, the demon of terror.

"Do you see it? That grave – or what lies still within its crypt – is the final instrument in dominating all the men and beasts of this realm", she went on. "And now I have found it."

"...but the Orcs, you know, they aren't..." L'moen tried to cut in, sweating more profusely by the second.

"Now we can begin the preparations for the grand plan." Raelia knew that she would need to hold on to her wits, because the opening of the grave would require great powers. She would need to close herself in her chamber and prepare for several days to build up her strength. Magic was very powerful in her, it was a given for her kin, but she would not want to take any risks whatsoever. She had not searched this long just to end up a tidbit for Firnaraee. Her most loyal warrior and her veritable right hand, Il'sharat, would be immediately dispatched towards the site to begin the preparations there and to ensure everything would work as planned.

"...that clever and what they did..."

Yes, she would need the powers of a large number of magical books, symbols and liquids to prevent the beast from escaping, and she would have to memorize long spells in order to learn how to control it, once it had been exhumed.

"This is exactly what I was born for...the reason I have lead such a devouted life, learned magic, become what I am now. It has all been towards this goal, this fate, no, my fate!"

"...it... was out of my hands and I'm very sorry, but..."

Raelia was too excited to listen to what L'moen tried to tell her, too busy imagining the ultimate reign she would create. Finally she would annihilate all the elves for good. For she hated the elven kin from the bottom of her pitch black heart, and a long time ago had earned the name Elvenkiller – she never thought twice when she was presented with an opportunity to dispatch one from the realm of the living. She had once been betrayed by their kind, or at least that was how she perceived it to be – and had nearly died. There was only one elf she could tolerate around her, Il'sharat, but he was another matter entirely. Il'sharat was a fugitive among elves, a cast-out, and she knew his heart to be nearly as dark and evil as her own. Furthermore, he was a formidable fighter and had saved her from a certain peril already. Perhaps the elf had been entwined by her cold beauty and power, perhaps he had utter reasons, but it did not matter. She just knew that he would die for her, and so he had slowly worked his way into her entourage as a veritable right-hand to wield as she pleased. In more ways than she would use a mere warrior, too.

"...they opened the grave."

Now Raelia had acquired almost everything she had been searching for. Her quest was now almost over and... she suddenly froze on her tracks. It was as if she sucked in all the sound around herself, and silence fell over the room as a cold but fiery rage begun to boil within her. She looked at L'moen and her presence turned into a dark gloom that spread from her engulfing the room. Suddenly there was such fury in her glance that it could have killed a weaker man.

"They... opened... the... grave?" She asked furiously, very slowly and with a stress on every syllable sharp as a knife. "Do you mean, that all of the preparations and search has been useless and the grave IS open?"

"Y-yes..." L'moen stuttered. "But your majesty", he explained, agitated, "It wasn't my fault, you see..."

"It was not your fault?! Of course it was your fault!" She roared and a pair of lightning bolts struck from the vaulted stone ceiling above. It seemed for a while she could rip his head off with sheer willpower. She stared at L'moen for a long while, blue electricity trickling down her features, as the servants cowered behind her. Then finally she spoke again, but to L'moen's astonishment, almost laconically.

"Irrelevant. The grave is open and the beast will be released – uncontrolled."

She started paced back and forth on the tiling, apparently unable to decide what to say or do.

"They opened it...", and her voice almost broke uttering the words. But then again her fury got a hold of her, and she gestured with her hands and discharged her rage towards the walls, which shook and crumbled in places where fireballs of her rage hit, sending bits and shards of stone flying all around them. The servants shrieked and L'moen tried to dodge the falling debris of stones and he was suddenly almost witless from the fear of what Raelia would do to him any second now. There were far worse things to fear than death, he knew.

"It was carefully explained to all of them..." he blabbered incoherently, but Raelia interrupted him:

"Do not bother" in a voice as dead and cold as a graveyard. Her gaze swept the ruined room once more and then she suddenly took off on her heels. As she vanished down the corridor he could hear her screaming

"They opened it!" And the servants slipped out of the room to follow.

L'moen let out a sigh and eased a bit. He had been almost certain that she would kill her. However, you never knew with her. Promptly he straightened up and turned to leave as soon as he could, to let things cool down a little before he would come back again, but was badly scared discovering someone walking from a corner towards him. He could have sworn there had been nobody else present, and instinctively his hand fell on the handle of his blade and her pose dropped a few inches, ready to counter any attack. It was Il'sharat who was casually tossing an apple from hand to hand,as he emerged from the shadows. The simple movement somehow lured L'moen's attention and he did not know what to do.

"You do understand, my mistress does not accept failure", Il'sharat said with a voice as soft as velvet, seaselessly tossing the apple from hand to hand. It seemed to glide through the air so easily, and there was something very disturbing about it: L'moen could not take his eyes off the fruit, eyes now wide from fear. He swallowed.

"You know what..." Il'sharat begun, but at the same time threw the apple towards L'moen, and just as he begun to raise his hand to catch the apple hurtling towards him he already felt how his innards splashed out from a gaping cut that somehow had appeared in his stomach between the sheets of his armour. He looked down at his guts splashing on the floor, his hand again returning to his blade, coughed dryly and started to fall, still with a surprised, child-like astonishment in his eyes as he returned his gaze to the elf. And that was the last thing he saw – Il'sharat standing in front of him, wiping blood from his blade.

"...Failure... always leads to peril", Il'sharat finished his sentence, gave him a big grin and retreated to shadows that suddenly collapsed on L'moen and shut his lights out for good.

*****

The girl ran like there was no tomorrow. The desert sand was slipping under her feet, sand flying in high arcs in the air, the softness of the terrain making her desperate advance both difficult and tiresome. Yet she continued her way towards an unseen goal, tripping over and getting back up again, running as if her life depended on getting there. And perhaps it did. She was obviously escaping from something.

"Help me, anyone! Help me, Gandum!" she screamed to her god between desperate intakes of breath, clearly with horrified certainty that no one would hear her. But still she kept trying. She was young, not ready to let her life go too easily.

Most any day in the desert she propably would not have been hurt like she rightly feared, but as luck would have it, she was not alone in her plight. Amashanae had already seen her. The elf had spent the whole night wandering around the desert, searching for shelter. She had had to keep moving in order to keep warm; the desert coldness during the night could be every bit as punishing as its scorching heat during the day. Although she felt exhausted and the few sips of moisture she had managed to extract from the spiky plants she had found during the night had hardly quenched her thirst, her instincts were still sharp and alert. Just as the silvery darkness begun to give way to a hint of light on the horizon, she had sensed, rather than heard something approaching and she had climbed over a large dune blocking her view to see a little further. Her sight was excellent, and she had seen how five horsemen – bandits judging by their looks – chased a girl just a few hundred paces to her south. She also saw that very soon they would catch up with her.

It was very easily understood what they were likely to have in mind. Amashanae judged the situation just for a while – she had just escaped trouble herself and needed no further trouble anytime soon – but she also sensed something innocent about the girl, something in her looks that screamed helpless desperation. Besides, she – or the bandits – might carry some water with her. And water she desperately needed, having fled the camp in such a haste she had had to leave most of her belongings behind. So a confrontation would be inevitable. Also, there were only five bandits, not an army of them. With a sigh she collected her strength and launched into running towards the girl. As she raced across the sand noiselessly as a ghost she saw how bandits already were upon the girl.

The girl started to scream as one of the bandits leaped off his horse and fell her down. The girl tried to shout for help, her voice breaking under the stress, but the bandit covered her mouth with a scarred and dirty palm.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he laughed, revealing his ugly sneer, teeth missing here and there.

"A girl like you just shouldn't be alone here in the desert", another of the bandits bawled, still on his horse. The girl's eyes were just white crescents of fear gleaming in the starlight of the awaking morning when she tried to struggle against the strong bandit. It was of no use.

"Aren't you a heated one", first bandit said, still keeping her on the ground. "Girls like you could easily get into trouble, wandering here in the desert like that..." he muttered and continued with laughter, "but wait, we ARE the trouble". The five of them started to laugh as they dismounted their horses. The first bandit unsheathed a little dagger, and his tone of voice turned low and serious, warning the girl:

"Okay, see this dagger right here, huh? One scream and I'll cut your lungs out of your chest", he growled. The other bandits gathered round the girl, taking their time now that the prey had been downed. The horses neighed as they pulled their reins to steady them after the chase, and there were curses as they forced the animals to stay put. One of them produced a bottle of some liquor from a saddlebag, took a long sip and offered it to the one holding the girl down. They were not doing this the first time it seemed. But the man with missing teeth pushed it aside.

"I'll have my way with her first, then I'll get drunk", he said, and the others laughed again as if it had been the best joke ever uttered. The girl, terrified, closed her eyes as tight as she could and prepared to meet her horrid fate as the bandit started ripping her clothes off.

The bandit never had time to realize whose sword it was that penetrated his throat. The girl heard a rupturing sound and the man suddenly croaked, and just as she opened her eyes she had a shower of blood in her eyes. She started to scream, but her screams were muffled when the body of the bandit fell on her as Amashanae pulled her blade free from the corpse. And with a swift, continuing movement and a twist of her wrist she swung the blade at a high curve at the rest of the bandits who were too slowly realizing something had just appeared from nowhere and killed one of them, and beginning to pull out their daggers and swords. The blade came down, slashing off an arm with ease, and Amashanae tilted her body, letting the momentum drive the blade back up and behind her while the twist of her body enabled her to throw a devastating kick on the groin of one of them. The bandit behind her tried to strike at her neck, but Amashanae was too quick for him, already letting her blade continue even further behind her, tilting on her heels while dropping lower to evade the blow and penetrating his heart.

Amashanae pulled the blade from the dead body of the bandit as it fell, again bringing the blade over her head, ready to strike again, and looked around with fire in her eyes. Three opponents were laying dead on the ground, one down on the sand, screaming in agony for a missing limb, and the last one still standing with a trembling sword in his hand and starting to hesitate. The horses neighed and rolled their eyes at the coppery smell of blood suddenly pungent in the air, the screams of the wounded bandit reverberating around them. Amashanae stared at the trembling bandit and grinned, eyes blazing with adrenaline and blood dripping from the blade over her head. She just stood there for a second, and then, with him obviously too terrified to be of any real danger, she suddenly moved forward. She kicked the sword from his hands, and her gaze never leaving his eyes, snatched the sword from the air. With her free hand she threw it, without even looking to aim, like a spear. It hit the back of the screaming, one-handed bandit rolling on the sand and finished his pains. That was too much for the last remaining bandit, and he dropped on his knees and started sobbing and babbling incoherently, and backed away with arms flailing on the sand, turned and half crawled and half ran away in the desert. Amashanae let him go. The desert would take care of that one.

*****

Raelia looked out of a window at the daybreak with her eyes narrowed to mere slits. The rising sun dazed her. Her hands were crossed behind her back and she clamped her teeth tightly together. She was still furious. They had opened it. She had an epiphany of what would follow. But she could never show fear even if she had wanted to. Lifting her hand to block the rays of the sun Raelia looked over to the yard of the palace where a part of her army was busy training. Goblin and orc regiments walked in echelons and trained in all sorts of tactical exercises. They were mainly mixed groups of warriors, thieves, murderers and other riffraff she had hired for few pieces of gold. She knew they were not the best possible fighters, or very skilled at warfare, but they also asked very few questions and were quite loyal as long as they received their gold. Humans did not get along with goblins and orcs very well, but Il'sharat and his special group of well-trained warriors cut short all incipient fights before anyone got hurt. Truth be told, sometimes somebody might get killed, but as casualties of war went these days, the numbers were utterly insignificant. That aside, what she examined from her high vantage point in the palace window was just small part of her army. Briefly she thought about whether she should recall all the scouts that had been sent out in search of the grave to safety. She knew that all those scattered troops would be serving as mere vanguards for the upcoming war, but should anything happen anywhere in the territories before everything was ready, she would know soon enough. Besides her army, she had much more dangerous warriors and creatures in hiding. Lesser demons and other creatures of darkness she could summon up whenever she wanted. Not to mention Firnaraee, the cornerstone of her plan to rule the world with fire and steel and to raise a war unlike any others before. But she needed to keep the dark ones in the other levels of the world still, because demons amidst orcs, goblins and especially humans would surely cause problems, maybe even panic, and she did not need that. Not for now, anyway. Still, there was much to consider and plan, even though she had planned for this her whole life. So she had shut herself away from her entourage, in her own chamber in the highest tower of her palace.

The palace, Thraewyns, had stood still like a huge stone monster of history for centuries already. Yet it showed no sign of decay, because when it was still under construction, it had been covered magically to persist all the threats of time. The palace consisted of an enormous, triangular main building, clad in ornaments and carvings of the most intricate type. Upon its roof lay stone and marble statues depicting evil spirits and also the edges of the roofs were covered in similar gargoyles, twisting their horrifying grins in an eternal, frozen posture and scaring away any unwelcome guests. The sheer size of the main building would have been sufficient to nominate Thraewyns a castle, but it was the three marble towers extending from the palace sides that gave it its real face. They seemed as if they could touch the sky, and no matter from whence one gazed upon them, some magic made it hard to tell where they ended and if they really did point straight towards the sky or not. One of the towers reached a little higher than the others, and seemed to emit an extensive amount of magic, and this was the tower Raelia's chamber was in. The palace yard was very big, and a big part of it served as a troop practice ground. The only area inaccessible to anybody but a select few – cult priests, Raelia and Il'sharat – was the temple on the right of the palace, where sacrifices to Firnaraee were carried out. There had been so much sacrifice in the temple over the centuries that it oozed a feeling and smell of death and blood and aeons of suffering, and thus nobody even wanted to get near the place. From within its walls a constant if weak chant-like mumble could be heard, and everyone knew that when the mumbling ceased, it meant yet another soul given to Firnaraee. All in all, the palace and its surroundings was an evil, fearful place indeed, and all its horrors were closed in with an insanely high wall surrounding the whole area, casting a long shadow within its circle. And above all this, in her chamber, stood the most terrifying aspect of it all – Raelia.

Raelia was the thirty-second Mistress of the palace, as far as she knew. There had always been a woman leading the Firnaraee-cult, and it was as role one was born into, not selected to. Every mistress before Raelia had been very powerful in magic indeed, but Raelia was first to succeed in the ancient quest of the cult, or even a part of it. Yet no one did really know for sure – not even Raelia – about the time the cult had been started. Or who the actual founder of the cult had been. Obscure and ancient legends hinted it had been Morgur Thraewnys Ranael, a very powerful priestess who had established the cult. This seemed likely, for the palace was after all named after her. Everyone knew of the cruelness of the cult and usually no one dared to come even close to the palace. Nevertheless, thanks to the raids and constant pillaging attacks of the palace dwellers had lead to neighboring lands as far as a week's journey away all through the centuries, the sacrificial altar located in main temple had tasted the blood of thousands of innocent people as offers for Firnaraee at a steady rate.

The temple within the high walls had indeed been built for bloodshed, and the members of the cult did not even try to hide their sick and perverted rituals. Firnaraee had always been a great god to them, one of the most powerful demons of the long since gone times of forgotten magic. Its destructive force was known to have been immense, and its sole purpose was known to have been to rape and pillage entire realms and work as a true instrument of violent devastation. The knowledge of where Firnaraee had originated, or what god or being had hated the world enough to release such an entity into existence, even the oldest legends dared not repeat, and all the history of its origins was thus clouded. It was however known from old scriptures and legends that Firnaraee had, during its stay in Brodérunn, killed and destroyed hundreds of thousands of beings, until after an epic battle that had according to legends taken years. One of the Great Dragons of the times past, Bathalá, carrying Saint Diyòsos, a paladin, into the battle, had imprisoned Firnaraee, only to vanish into thin air after the deed had been done. The cult legends told of Bathalá and Diyòsos as well as Firnaraee, but always as enemies.

The main reason the entire palace complex had been built in the ancient times had been to control Firnaraee. This was very clear to Raelia, and something she had always known. The palace was more than just a building and a site; it was a tool to keep a god under leash. Yet now it seemed that everything had been for nothing. Merely because those stupid orcs had opened the grave, Raelia thought. She had spent decades to find the grave, continuing the quest set in motion ages before she had even existed, and finally she had succeeded in where all of her foregoers had failed. But now everything seemed as if all the past had been erased, all the cards had been dealt anew and the game was about to slip through her hands. She was desperate, and she knew she needed to come up with something – anything – to gain control over Firnaraee, now released from its prison it had suffered aeons in, amassing hatred and power even she did not dare to think about. And she needed to find answers soon. After those stupid orcs had stumbled on the grave and the demon was released, it should all have been lost already. But luckily, having been imprisoned for such a long time Firnaraee was apparently reluctant – or perhaps weak – to re-enter the world and had created a barrier at the entrance to the grave to protect it while it would gather strength and get used to being alive once again. This was what had saved the day for now; as soon as Raelia had realized the existence of the barrier, she had made her own spells to fortify the barrier so that now even Firnaraee itself could not break it too easily. Perhaps. There was no way to know for now, but she was sure the barrier would hold Firnaraee for a while in any case. But she could feel that the time was running short and she was ready for any desperate measures already...once she could decide what they should be.

Thus Raelia had locked herself in her chamber to think, exhausted from her spells and feeling the heavy burden of magic on her shoulders. One thing was certain: Firnaraee would get out at some point and release its full powers of destruction towards whatever came its way. Not that that really much mattered to Raelia, no, she only cared about her personal aims – and those of her cult. But still, the spell she had used to seal the cave had claimed its toll on her, and it had taken all the night. So she was dead tired. She did not normally need much sleep due to her magical powers, but this had definitely been hard. At least for a time that I figure how to control it, she thought. She would have needed to be there when the grave was opened because only she had the spell, given to her as a birthright, to control the Firnaraee. A ritual should have been conducted and words uttered. And she knew that if that embodiment of darkness could not be stopped, it would eventually exterminate everything in the known world. And even if Raelia and her cult usually reveled in destruction, she would also be in mortal danger. And even if she survived, what good would a kingdom be without living subjects.

Raelia turned again from the window and thoughtfully examined her chamber. It was a round room, lined with heavy shelves and benches filled with jars and boxes or various kinds, with a luxurious settee and a bed set near the window. It was plain to see the dweller dabbled in – or more like lived for – black magic and alchemistic sciences, with ancient parchments and scriptures piled high among the magical necessities. Besides a strong scent of incense there was an almost tangible feeling of magic in the air. Raelia walked to a desk and from a high shelf right above it she retrieved a small, lucid bottle containing red liquid. She examined the bottle for a moment and then opened it slowly. The bottle let out a lamenting cry and a part of its content materialized into a small, darkish mist in shape of an orb, and hovered above the bottle as if trying to break free. Quickly Raelia captured it inside her palm and pushed it in her mouth. After swallowing hard she poured the rest of the contents of the bottle in her mouth. She felt how streams of energy circulated criss-crossing her body and how her exhaustion started to dissipate. It was a magical potion she had made herself; the soul of an elf she had sacrificed. And it rejuvenated her immensely.

Raelia felt her thoughts begin to flow more freely, and she thought for a moment about where Il'sharat might be just now. That elf was a total mystery for her, even though she had walked with him for several years. She hated the elves from the very depths of her black heart, but Il'sharat was something she could not hate. No, on the contrary he had often kept her warm between the sheets in her private chamber. Now, rejuvenated with the magic potion, this thought would not escape her mind. She had done a lot of work, and now it would be time for pleasure. But where was Il'sharat to be found when she needed him?

"Damn elves!" she snorted. Suddenly she was startled by the realization she was not alone in the chamber. Il'sharat stepped towards her from the shadows and smiled unabashedly.

"You are beautiful when angry", he said, and continued by bowing in a manner that could not be regarded very respectful, but rather exaggerated and fake. "Milady"

Raelia looked at him with an angry stare, but could not hide the lust in her glare. She held her fatigue responsible for not sensing his presence in the chamber, but she was annoyed all the same. Furthermore, she did not know how long had he hid there in the shadows. Any other mortal soul would already be pleading for her life, she knew, but Il'sharat... he was no ordinary elf.

Like any powerful witch, also Raelia had her share of curses to bear. She had always been powerful, and as such, numerous attacks by both experienced and inexperienced fighters and wizards had been made towards her. Either for glory, honor or revenge, many had challenged her. And always the fight ended the same way; the challengers perished one after the other. Yet once it had been different, and the scales of fortune had been tipped against her favor for a change. She had made battle with a very powerful wizard, and even though she had been victorious even then, at the moment of his death the wizard had managed to cast spells that caused great trouble for his weary victor. It had been the first and only time Raelia had really expected to die, actually to lose her mortal coil and be shoved down to whatever hell awaited her beyond. But Il'sharat had appeared as if from nowhere to her rescue and snatched her back from the very jaws of death. Perhaps it was due to her weakened state at that time, or the strange aura the elf had carried about him, but the very moment she had gazed upon the elf who had saved her, she felt carried away with a strange enchantment towards him. Raelia was immune for any spells of the kind that enchanted mortal souls with lust and affection, but this situation had somehow been different. Ever since that time she had kept Il'sharat nearby, unable to dispose of him, unable to let him go.

Raelia gazed at the elf, shaking away her emotions. No matter if I let him lead me sometimes. She knew that if the push came to shove, she would, after all, get rid of the elf and not blink an eye let alone shed a tear. For now, she granted some pleasures of flesh for herself and tolerated his insolence. A powerful sorceress, an independent ruler as she might be, she was nevertheless a woman. And she had the needs of one. So she let him step closer, just a couple of inches away from touching her, before she swiftly raised her arm and brought her palm down on his cheek. For a woman she was incredibly powerful also in her body and not just magic, and Il'sharat was sent reeling backwards and head thrown to the side, but he snapped his face back very quickly. A small fire blazed in his eyes and he gasped, not having expected such a greeting. Raelia fixed her eyes deep in his, grabbed him and then unexpectedly kissed him greedily on the lips. For a second she looked like a vampire upon her limp prey, until Il'sharat responded and grabbed her in his arms. Words were not needed as their lips locked into caressing one another in desire. They both knew this game very well, and in some strange and twisted way they perfectly catered to each other's needs. Raelia enjoyed causing pain and Il'sharat enjoyed receiving it. They were excited by each other and they harnessed each other, feeding their sick and perverted desires. The kiss continued and Il'sharat's hands wandered on Raelia's. They found the braiding of her dress and soon the gown fell on the floor in a heap. He caressed her black, thick hair and gently held her head in his hands, while his teeth teasingly bit her lower lip. His hands continued down her frame, and soon the lovers sank down on the floor of the chamber, locked in embrace.

CHAPTER 3

Amashanae put away her blade and walked to the restless, neighing horses, approaching them with hands held low and speaking to them in a soothing voice. She began searching the saddlebags without even a glance at the girl, who, behind her, was struggling to push the dead bandit off her. There would have to be water here. There was a lot of junk in the bags, and she even found a little bit of silver, but astonishingly enough it seemed the bandits had been riding out in the desert with almost nothing but hard liquor on them. They must have left their food and water skins in their camp and rode out in a hurry to chase the girl – or her caravan – that had probably happened upon it. The girl made more sounds, but Amashanae, busy in search of water, did not lend an ear. There would have to be some water here, nobody rode out here with just liquor no matter how rushed they set on the move. Finally she found a small skin of water. She grabbed the skin and started to open it, when she again heard the girl. With a sigh and a glance to the sky she threw the water-skin on her back, stepped over and kicked the still bleeding bandit off the girl's body.

"Are you all right?" She asked. The girl was still quite shaken by terror, and it seemed the sight of Amashanae, arms gleaming with fresh blood and a wild look in her eyes did little to soothe her. But she was too dehydrated from her desperate run to stay quiet.

"Water", the girl begged. Amashanae checked the water-skin, but there was just enough water left for one good sip.

"Figures" she muttered to herself, knelt down and let the last drops of water on the girl's dried lips. Then she stood up, tossed the empty skin aside and turned back to the horses, pondering which one of them would the best choice.

"Please, help..." the girl whispered behind her, collecting herself and making her way up. She had obviously overcome her fear of this blood-covered elf very quickly – apparently being lost in the desert alone was even more frightening a scenario. Amashanae turned and gave her a long, hard look.

"You are free to go, they shall not disturb you anymore."

"Please, take me with you", the girl said, much more urgently this time, moved closer to Amashanae and looked down at her bloody hands. The blood appeared pitch black in the low light of the desert. "I have no place to go." But Amashanae still ignored her and started to reach out the bridle of the nearest horse she judged to be the best of the lot when her eyes suddenly attained the last horse of the pack. Amashanae stared into the eyes of the horse. There was something of the same kind of fear and loneliness in its eyes that she knew her own eyes also possessed. Even if the horse was dirty enough to belong to the filthiest of the bandits, it seemed to be of much more powerful build than is common to its kind. The horse returned her gaze and tilted its head. Carefully she started to walk towards the fine animal, which stood motionless as a statue on its hooves and followed Amashanae strictly with its eyes.

Amashanae reached the horse and slowly and gently extended her arm and touched the side of its head. Its nostrils quivered a little but it did not pull away.

Amashanae smiled and let her hand stroke down the horse's neck, and the horse seemed to relax, looking over her shoulder at the girl standing behind them patiently with an expecting look on her face.

Amashanae turned to face the rest of the horses and said coldly to girl:

"You grab one of those and ride home, girl. The desert is not a place for you." Amashanae took the reins and whistled softly, and the horse followed. She began walking the horse away from the corpses, intending to leave the girl standing there. No water, but at least I now have a horse, she thought.

But the girl appeared not to give in so easily.

"What do you mean?" Amashanae heard an angry shout behind her. "I am not a child! Who are you to tell me what to do?" Amashanae did not turn around, only rolled her eyes and continued walking the horse into the desert. What a spirit, defiant even under such circumstances, she thought. The girl ran after her, stumbling on the sand and face all red and excited, and continued,

"What is your problem, anyway? Are you just going to leave me here?" Then, as suddenly as it had flared, her spark died. She broke into tears, but quickly swept them away and again ran after Amashanae who kept a steady pace towards the desert and paid no attention to her antics.

"Listen. Listen. I'm not staying here with these corpses. I am going to follow you no matter what, so you might as well let me tag along with you." Amashanae stopped with a sigh. Well, the girl seemed to have some spark in her, and it would perhaps not harm her to let her come along. After all, she felt some sort of responsibility for the girl now that she had already saved her from the bandits.

"Very well, but only until we reach a town of some sort. After that you're on your own. And make sure you do not weigh me down. There's no water and I certainly will not be waiting around if you cannot keep up" She went quiet for a moment, pondering their situation. "Makes no sense to try accross the desert to Katamayaport without water or caravan for protection. Best to head west or northwest; should be less than two days to reach the end of the desert that way, or at least find water. Those bastards hardly had anything on them besides hard liquor."

To Amashanae's astonishment the girl jumped on her, hugging her, her face lighting up.

"Great! We'll have a great time!" Taken aback, Amashanae did not know what to make of the girl, who seemed like she had been born yesterday, switching from one emotion to another so quickly and with such intensity. Nobody had approached her without prejudice and so openly as far as she could remember. Instinctively she pushed the girl away with more force than necessary.

"Hey, listen, I am not looking for an inexperienced companion to get me killed any time soon, so just stay off my back and we will manage. Understand?" She turned her back to the girl, picked up her pace and muttered to herself in confusion: "Something innocent, phew!" The girl ran back to get a horse for herself, heels kicking up sand as she ran, and while she was doing that she shouted at Amashanae's back:

"What should we do with the rest of the horses?"

Now that was a good question. She had not thought of it herself. Perhaps the cold and tiresome night spent on the desert had dulled her senses more than she wanted to admit.

"We shall take them with us. There is always a possibility that they might return to their stables...and there might be more bandits. They might come after us. And if we do not find water..." she made a small pause, "...we can always kill one of them and drink its blood. Its best to leave with haste. Scavengers will be arriving when the morning sun warms up the bodies and the smell of death becomes stronger. If not sooner. We do not want to be here when that happens", she said, looking at the bodies and then the sky. Her glance dwelled on the still gloomy canopy of the sky for a while and she fell in her thoughts for a passing moment.

The morning was just about to break, painting the stars off the sky, but there was something strange about them still. All the stars appeared too milky for this time of year, she somehow knew. Still she did not give much attention to the matter, because the sudden dimness of stars did not rank among her biggest troubles. To start with, she was astray on a desert without any water, and now she also had obtained this girl as a burden. To top it all off, the girl did not seem to have much intellect, or perhaps she was downright a little dull-headed. At any rate, she would have preferred to travel without her company. She shook her head in a fleeing moment of despair. Now she had a horse, at least, or they had horses. Better get used to having company.

"Oh by the way" the girl panted as she ran after her, holding the reins of the rest of the horses following behind her. "My name is Asaryen."

Somewhere near them, a small creature slipped into shadows created by the very first light of dawn.

*****

A goblin captain looked out the landscape around him as the dawn begun to break. He had lifted his palm against his forehead above his eyes to shield from the sand blown about by the desert wind. After staring into the void long enough he came to a sort of conclusion about their current location – lost in the desert. He turned to face his troop and his numerous jewelleries and all the accessories of war bound on his belt, a sword, two daggers and a scimitar, jingled and clattered audibly against one another even in the howling wind. The captain was clad with various pieces of armour collected from several unlucky opponents. His ring mail, for instance, was clearly too big for him – the orc he had slain to get the valuable piece of armour had been much larger than him – but he disregarded the fact, since the armour, he felt, was the only piece of clothing worthy of his status right now, leading a quest issued by Raelia herself. Staying here at the oasis was not an option, however. They had already used up all it had to offer; the spring had dried up as the company had used all the water for their animals, and made a horrific mess of everything in every possible manner. A group of messy goblins was not something a tiny oasis in the middle of the desert could sustain for long.

Yes, he deduced, they were a bit lost in the desert all right. But the captain – Strutto – was wise enough to keep that knowledge to himself, not wanting to cause unrest among his underlings. Surely he was not a commander of a goblin troop for nothing. And after all he was a quarter-blood orc, which certainly had helped. However it might be, he had a couple of platoons at his command. Or to be more exact, about a dozen short of the full headcount. Nevertheless, he had just been promoted to a rank of a Captain, a fact that he attributed to his good looks and skills as a warrior, to replace an unfortunate captain who had met with an accident. There were quite many accidents among Raelia's hordes, he thought, numerous indeed. Because of his lack of experience in the field he had been given but two platoons, but it would be enough for him to show his true mettle as a leader. He considered his sudden promotion well earned. Perhaps he had been a little slow sometimes, but he had always compensated for it with his cruelness. He needed to be cruel and keep an iron hold over his troop. It was not only to keep the discipline tight, but for the reason of avoiding these frequent accidents he had often heard would happen to captains.

Strutto looked at his platoon – definitely not a lot of the best warriors, drew his gauntlets back onto his hands and grunted,

"We shall continue towards northwest" even though he really did not have a clue on what direction northwest really was from here. But he would be damned to let his troops know he was lost. He turned on his heels and made to move forward, when someone interrupted him.

"But sir", a nasal voice started, "I think the northwest is in that..." but did not make it any further. The outspoken goblin warrior's last words were cut short as a rush of blood burst from his mouth and his eyes rolled down to witness how a quick hit of Strutto's scimitar had pierced his chest. Without further noise he dropped on his knees, a wondering expression in his eyes forever fixed on his chest where the blade had just been. Strutto looked angrily down at the dying footman, then lifted his gaze to the rest of the lot and bellowed:

"No one will ever interrupt me! No one." All the rest of the goblins stirred restlessly, with both fear and hatred, but also respect in their eyes. They understood to keep silent when Strutto stared them down with a dark gaze.

All you need is some cruelness, Strutto thought, and heard laughter inside his head. They will learn...they will learn. He lifted the scimitar over his face, and shoved the dead warrior down on the sand with his boot. The corpse collapsed with a rattle of equipment, its eyes still stupidly fixed to its chest. Strutto licked some blood off the blade with his tongue, still staring at his troops. There I have a pack of numskulls. He slipped the scimitar in its sheath and spat on the dead goblin.

"Take his equipment", he snarled and without further ado started walking towards what he thought to be northwest, lifting and dropping his hand forward in a commanding gesture. The rest of the platoon started after without further interruptions, except for two goblins remained to strip off the equipment from the dead body – and cut themselves a few juicy pieces of meat while they were at it too – and only then ran to catch up with the rest of the group.

While Strutto left the tiny shelter of the palm trees behind them and led his troops towards an unknown destination, he pondered over the fact of why had Raelia commanded them to find a stupid grave to begin with. And here? There were no graves in desert. Who had ever thought of burying something or someone here where the wind constantly shaped the landscape and could easily bury even entire cities – if there would ever be one built around here – while revealing other secrets, even over one night of strong gales. This is useless, he thought, sulky but cringing a little as if afraid Raelia might actually be able to read his thoughts from afar. Be it as it may, Raelia certainly believed the grave to be somewhere here. She had even trusted him with a magical stone, which she said would begin to glow when they got near the grave. But Strutto could not help wondering if the stone was actually a means of spying on him on his quest. Strutto felt quivers run down his spine. The Mistress surely was something to be afraid of. Strutto certainly did not want to end up a target of her rage. However much he brooded over the facts, there was nothing to do but obey. At least here in the desert he would be safe from Raelia and her whims. In presence of her was another matter, and Strutto pondered if there really was but one person who could feel safe near the Mistress. Another mystery there – an elf for crying out loud – how could she stand an elf of all creatures near her. But as it was, there was nothing to do but obey, and rule his platoon, show his worth and return later to collect a better position he was definitely going to get. Even with such belief, he secretly wished he had the courage to just cut and run, for the prospect of ending on the wrong side of Raelia's favor was a horrid thought indeed. Still, he once again decided it was best to be loyal, at least as long as it would be safe to keep it that way, and continue seeking the grave. He gnarled and muttered to himself while walking and cursed, in his usual manner, all the creatures he knew existed.

Little did he know that what they were searching for had already been found.

*****

Bit by bit the sun begun to cast it beams from the horizon, revealing the vastness of the dunes of the desert around them also to human eye. Amashanae and Asaryen had treaded forward on the sandy soil, and although they occasionally stopped for a quick rest, the lack of water kept their senses in check. No room for sleepiness if one was to survive. They would have to find water soon now. The chilling coldness of the desert night would abate soon and the deadly heat of sun would radiate upon them. There was no other choice for them but to move on and to find any kind of signs of shelter and water. Perhaps plants to extract moisture from. Even an oasis, if they should be so lucky.

"The sun will rise and our chances of survival are getting smaller", Amashanae muttered laconically. She felt her amulet through her shirt, thinking to herself. Tahlthar let me die here not. The idea of the incandescent heat of the desert definitely did not allure her, even if it still felt like a welcome change after her chilly nocturnal flight. Her lips were already chapped and her muscles started to be sore, but she remained calm and did not reveal her exhaustion to the girl.

"We must think positively", Asaryen said and seemed surprisingly high-spirited. "I mean we have been here only for one night. I remember one time, when the little daughter of the blacksmith of our village got lost in the desert, and everyone was in dread about her fate", she started to chat with absolute heartiness. It seemed there was no end to her talkativeness, and Amashanae started to be quite astonished for this ample nonsense she kept pouring out of her mouth. She was more than slightly puzzled – where did the girl get all that positive energy flow? Was she simply so dumb that she did not really embrace the serious state of situation? She thought.

"Save your story – and your strength", she said, putting an abrupt end to the girl's tale. "We are in the middle of desert, not in some silly little village, and that is not a matter to be taken too lightly.

Asaryen picked up her pace and came to Amashanae's side, looking at her apprehensively

"Do not be so negative", she said. "Try to take it a little more relaxed and maybe you could live longer". Unbelievable, this girl, Amashanae thought.

"What do you think you know..." Amashanae blurted, too amazed to even get angry for being interrupted. But Asaryen did not even listen to her anymore, and persevered her story about the desert, the daughter of the blacksmith, and how there is always hope for salvation and every cloud has a silver lining.

"You see, the girl that went missing was the only child of the family, and..." she went on telling a story about how everybody had been certain the girl was long gone, until she had suddenly appeared at the village gate, saying that she had been saved by this weird character who had given her food and shelter, but Amashanae had more important things in mind. Are we heading in the right direction?

"...and that is how they got back his little daughter, who sure enough was alive and well", Asaryen finally finished her tale. Amashanae had stopped to listen to her long ago, because her instincts had told her something. She examined the ground they treaded on. The sun was already high on the sky like some celestial fireball and the heat was nearly unbearable. She was suffering from the aridness of her body, but she still kept her frame of mind in one piece. She heard Asaryen go on reciting tales; she had changed the theme but continued her stories with unfaltering jolly. She can not be serious, Amashanae thought. She felt disoriented, watching the girl talk. She was still looking at Asaryen when she suddenly had an epiphany. It was only a heartbeat long, but in it Asaryen changed – she was dead, dead eyes, skin, everything, like her present existence was a lie and now she suddenly saw her true self. Or her future. Or perhaps it was a glint from her own past, something to be frightened of, a breath from the beyond that made her feel cold and easy and she shuddred, forcing her eyes closed and resisting the urge to grab the ground to stablilize hersef. She could imagine the voice in her head laughing at her, laughing at her folly, until suddenly her attention was mercifully drawn elsewhere, back to the safety of reality. Asaryen had quit her blabbing, seeing something in front of them.

"There's something over there", she squeezed her eyes to better see in the glaring sunlight. Whatever it was that she saw, she expected it to be an illusion.

"There is something. Now quickly", she said to Asaryen, hitched the bridle of her horse, and picked up the pace moving towards her discovery. Since there was no water for the horses either, they had walked along them to spare them from exhaustion.

"Let it be an oasis" Amashanae thought out loud. Asaryen heard this and started an annoying rant:

"Let it be. Oasis. Let it be. Oasis." All right, she IS senseless, Amashanae thought.

"Shut up! The heat of the desert has messed with your head", she roared with her now dry and hoarse but still commanding voice to Asaryen, who finally fell quiet, glancing a sulky look at Amashanae.

It certainly was an oasis she had seen. As they got closer to it, they could soon make out that there were two small and totally withered palm trees, but also three bigger ones that still held most of their leaves and did not seem to be just moments away from dying. As they reached the shadow of the trees they saw a ring of ashes where a fire had been, abandoned not long ago, surrounded by an assorted group of rifted rock located near a small puddle, which – maybe just recently – had contained some water. Water that in all probability had kept the bigger palm trees alive. But it was almost all drained out now. Only a little pond of muddy water rested there but for Amashanae it was better than nothing. Quietly she slouched to what was left of the water and kneeled. She grasped a handful of the dirty liquid and slurped at it greedily. Sand creaked amidst her teeth when she swallowed and she almost threw up with a shudder that came when the dirty water reached her stomach.

"Phew! This is for nothing" she coughed. She steadied herself, one hand on the sand and the other pressed against her brow. Frustrated, she gazed about. We will not make it till dawn, she pondered, heaved a sigh and arose.

"It is still better that we rest here", she said to Asaryen who had said nothing, just stood there watching. Amashanae looked at her, puzzled.

"Do you...", she started, but Asaryen turned her head away with indifference. Amashanae realized she was probably still angry about her yelling at her.

"Look, I am sorry for that..." she begun, not even being sure of what was it she was sorry about. The vision of her dead crossed her mind. No-one should carry a grudge under such dire circumstances and over such a trivial issue. Walk away. Her clumsy attempt at an apology went for deaf ears. Leave it. She shook her head and walked under a palm tree. Suit yourself. I am not going to pamper your emotions she thought. "This will give us at least some shelter. The sun would not burn us at least at the moment", Amashanae kept her causerie up without further commenting on Asaryen's antics. Asaryen did not say anything. Amashanae felt her irritation towards the girl fade away and felt a twinge of worry for her instead. She's just a young girl, she'll calm down eventually, but what will become of her innocent temper if we will not find water soon, she thought while sitting aboard heavy trunk of palm tree which gave just enough cover from the scorching sun to lower her body temperature slightly. She looked around her for a while, and realized that Asaryen had gone to feed the horses some dry palm tree leaves. The horses. Maybe we could try to drink their blood she had time to think, before her eyelids got immensely heavy and she slumbered in the scorching heat, exhausted by her adventures since escaping the caravan.

*****

A servant ran down the twisting corridors of Thraewnys. He had not worked for long in his duty and she certainly knew what kind of a woman his ruler was reported to be. But this was irrelevant to him, as he had only enrolled in guard duty for money. He cared not to whom he was working for, provided his wallet would be filled. The palace was a maze indeed, but he had learned the turns of the corridors surprisingly quickly. He felt pride in being able to make his way through the seemingly endless corridors of Thraewnys with ease; some of the numskulls in the palace guard could not manage that even after years of trying. It was great to run here in the corridors where it was cool and quiet. He came to a sturdy door and without thinking opened it - and stepped directly into Raelia's chamber without knocking first.

Raelia and Il'sharat lay on the floor kissing and caressing when all of a sudden the door flanged open and a young man stepped in, face lit with the heat of running. Raelia could not believe her eyes confronting this arrogance and almost forgot her position for a second.

"How dare you!" she screamed. The young man opened his mouth to say something, puzzled at what was happening. Raelia was too quick to act. She screamed again, this time a word in a tongue that no one else in the room, if in the whole palace, could understand. She flapped her palms together so that her fingers were pointed towards the boy. Fiery bolts sparked from her fingertips and blew directly through the servant's chest and spread around his back, surrounding him in a blaze. He had time to feel a shocking wave of heat for just a second and then there was only a pile of ash left on the floor and a smell of burning flesh lingering in the air for a while before mixing with the other smells and scents of the chamber. Raelia gasped angrily and shook her fists at the pile of ashes. The moment with Il'sharat had passed. She gave herself some time to calm down and then looked at Il'sharat, who had already stood up.

"Come to my room later" she purred, already surprisingly abated. Il'sharat also knew that that the moment was gone, and did not try to contradict her decision when she continued: "Now get lost. I have some work to do!" Raelia walked to her table, but changed her mind and turned around to speak, but the elf had already gone his way.

"Damn elves", she said, but this time her voice was much more relaxed. Despite the irritation she could not resist concentrating on him for a little more. She concentrated and closed her eyes, and sent a telepathic message to him. A very vivid and lurid image it also was.

"That will keep him on his toes for a while" she laughed to herself and started exploring the rolls of parchment spread out on the table in order to find a solution to her problem. Once in a while she fingered some bottles on the shelves, sniffed or tasted the strange contents therein, and mumbled something that would be mean nothing to common mortals. It was hard for her to decide what to do. Using her magical potions she tried to concentrate her mind and let the tentacles of her thought reach inside her memories, digging all the way to the bottom in order to find some answers and there she suddenly found and old memory hidden deep in the vaults of her evil mind.

"Decamod" Raelia spoke aloud. "Perhaps I already have access again." The Decamod was an ancient spell book - truly an ancient one. Few mortals had ever dared to probe its contents, because its tongue was forgotten knowledge from ancient times. Nobody really understood any more how the book worked, except it was only accessible once in a lifetime of a mortal. Not written by mortal beings, not really a book at all, it was a powerful entity in itself, dwelling in the hidden universe that resided between its covers. According to a legend an ancestor of Raelia had found the Decamod lying somewhere in the abyss of mount Wandoria. Such mountains had, as the legends say, in the times before time begun, been pushed up from the rock and living earth by mighty wizards, to serve as abodes. It was believed one of them had been the creator of the formidable book. Raelia's predecessors had attempted to use the book – or what parts therein they had dared to look at – in their long search for the grave of Firnaraee, but of course the grave had not been found and it had been stored in the secret library of the palace to await the time it would reveal its secrets once again. Raelia grinned with delight and left – almost ran out of her chamber. She headed straight for the secret library, but still a thought lingered in her mind. A detour to a certain bedroom first would be very invigorating...

CHAPTER 4

She wandered in a misty forest. Her senses alerted her constantly that something was about to happen. She pushed aside dead branches with her hand while she felt her way through the forlorn woods. She felt something awful approaching her, but had no clear understanding of direction – just a pulsating, almost alive feel of imminent doom and terror looming around her. Fear leaped to her heart.

"Who am I", she screamed at the mute trees, and somehow it was not her voice at all, just a scream echoing from all directions at once, but still she felt no surprise at the question at all. She felt that only the knowledge of her true self might save her from the fate she felt driven for. She looked at her hands, the hands of a stranger in the blue light of the woods, and even in the chilliness of the air she saw she was sweating all over in cold streams of salty water that made her hands slippery. She raised her gaze and looked about her, and suddenly there was nothing but blackness that fell over her as if a cloak was pulled over her head, extinguishing all the sounds and sights. Panicking, she drew her steel from its scabbard and lashed here and there at random until she felt she hit someone. She heard a scream and then felt nothing as her senses faded.

When she woke up she was still in the woods, still in this timeless place where there was no sound of nature but where the silence roared with a deafening toll. Then there was a signal of sound, a human voice in the unreal.

"Sister", she heard someone yell. "Sister". Frantically Amashanae looked everywhere around her, got up distressed and her heart beating, and when she located the direction of the voice, she started to run towards it through the dead leaves floating down the blue air among the trees.

"Sister" Amashanae ran and ran with her feet not even touching the ground, until suddenly she came to a vast clearing in the woods. There was little girl in the middle of it. "Sister", the girl whispered. Amashanae ran for the girl.

" _Am...I...your...sister?" Amashanae asked. "My name... your name...my sister?"_

The little girl glared at her with small, brown round eyes.

" _Sister?" she asked carefully in a small voice._

"My sister..." Amashanae answered, "My sister...Hashalia!" she shouted out the girl's name that suddenly leaped from the depths of her mind. "Hashalia" she whispered again, closing her eyes just for an instant and imprinting and locking the name in her memory. When she opened them again, the little girl had changed into a figure of a beautiful woman with hollow, over-turned eyes, floating in front of her.

" _You are my sister, Amashanae", the woman whispered. "I am Hashalia. You have to find me... you have to... save me..." she said, now looming above her as a dream image._

Amashanae felt a little twinge of fear setting her on guard.

" _I have to save you? From what?" she said, already feeling afraid of what the answer might be._

" _You have to save me...", the woman's voice started to sound unstable and distant, "save me...for me...Hashalia...to...kill...kill YOU!", her voice turned even lower and got strangely distorted as she started to change shape, "Kill!", it screamed with an inhuman, hollow voice. Amashanae covered her face, kneeling back as if blown down with a mighty wind, and suddenly there was a black, horrid creature of hell standing in front of her. The beast was covered with a black flaky shell, sharp spines jutting from its skin impossibly here and there. It had eyes of a sickly shade of yellow and all the fires of hell seemed to be burning behind those eyes._

" _What are you?" Amashanae screamed, holding her ground and grabbing her sword even though the world around her had taken a turn into something even more unreal, the clearing still there, but converging on itself, drawing everything into a pit as if a cauldron of black forming, a burning wind around them "Where is my sister?" she yelled defiantly as everything around her seemed to be sliding right into the very gates of hell._

" _I am your sister!" the creature roared with a voice barely understandable as any human language, laughing, and its voice echoed everywhere in the hurricane that was reality now. Amashanae moved to attack, but there was no direction to move and lash out and the monster simply extended one of its dark claws, ripped straight through her chest and gored her heart out._

" _Sister", Amashanae still screamed, staring at her own death and feeling no pain, only a horrid feeling of loss and despair. "Sister!" The monster was now awash with her blood that poured out of her, but still she held her ground and her sword up high._

" _Sister", the monster roared, "Sister..." and its voice begun to fade away as Amashanae felt the power finally escaping her as she slid from this unreal world towards a total darkness where she knew, once she would have reached it, there would be but one word echoing everywhere;_

" _Hashalia"_

Amashanae flinched awake. She had had a dream and she was oozing cold sweat even in the late afternoon heat of the desert. But everything seemed to be back in the right perspective and the sound of the desert wind and the rustle of the palm tree in it assured her of her location. She was just a little bit dazed.

"Are you alright?" Asaryen asked gently, kneeling on the sand beside her and a worried look on her face. "You seemed to have some sort of nightmare, for you were in convulsions and screaming all these weird things."

"What things?" Amashanae asked.

"Well, something about sister..."

"Forget all you have heard. It was nothing." Amashanae interrupted her before she could go on. She averted her eyes and shook away an ill feeling she suddenly had. "And yes, I am alright." With that, she promptly turned away, got up and walked away sunk in her thoughts and dismissing her worried companion with a wave of hand as she went. It was not the first time she had seen that dream. She understood part of it – yes, she obviously had a sister named Hashalia, who apparently needed help. That is, if she were to trust her dreams. But then again, what else was there to go by for her? Who – or what – was that monster in the dream, and what did it want from her? She realized she had walked to the horses she had taken from the bandits, and walked to the one she had picked for herself. Its eyes followed her serenely, and as she walked to it the horse rested its head on her shoulder as if to console her and give her solace. I cannot speak with any of my kind, or a human...but you seem to understand me she thought, gently running her hands through the horse's mane.

The blazing sun soon begun its descent from the deep blue desert sky and chillness prepared to elbow the hotness out even if the heat of the day still lingered in the air. Still, the warmth would quickly escape out of the porous rock and sand in the cold night winds. Amashanae realized she had slept almost the whole day. They had not exchanged a word the whole rest of the day, both in a state of delayed shock or desperation about their situation. Asaryen had kept to herself, not bothering Amashanae anymore. The suddenly cool evening wind felt quite divine on their skin, but the joy of this fresh breath of air after the furnace of the day was to be cut short, as the welcome chill would quickly change to cold. They had no means for making a fire with them, which rendered the possibility of a warm campfire only a distant dream. The evening dusk started to turn into a nautical darkness and then nocturnal blackness, darkness creeping in to assail them. Amashanae rested against a palm tree and closed her eyes. She realized she was badly dehydrated and again her mind started to wander. She felt no fear at the prospect of dying here, cold and dried out, but she knew there was nothing more for them to do.

Suddenly she noticed their horses had gotten nervous for some reason. She looked at her horse standing quietly a few paces away, and then tried to give a moment for her to relax before her senses suddenly burst alive with all the strength she had left in her weary body. Asaryen was again napping, almost unconscious, but Amashanae pricked up her ears and spoke out loud:

"Who ever there's lurking in the shadows, break cover or meet your destiny – slowly" Asaryen snapped completely awake and looked at Amashanae, astonished, and looked frantically about to find out who was being addressed, because she could not see in the dark as well as Amashanae could.

"Who are you talking to?" she asked and kept turning her head around, agitated and nervous in the dark, trying to see something. Anything.

"I believe she means me", a very definitely male voice answered from a bit further away, somewhere amidst the growing shadows. Both the women jumped up like lightning and Amashanae drew her blade, which felt very heavy in her weakened hands.

"Come up I said", she prepared for fighting without knowing who she would be facing or whether there would be any fight left in her dried out body. Asaryen gave a sidelong glance to her voice's direction and her hands explored the darkness as if she expected to stumble across someone. Amashanae stood with strained attention and she bettered her grip on the sword when a dark figure begun manifest from the darkness. It came closer and Amashanae identified it to be the same man who had interrupted her doing battle in the caravan camp before – and his face was still covered by a hood.

"Having a little trouble, are we?" the man spoke, apparently not posing any threat to women.

"Stop jawing and reveal yourself!" Amashanae hissed. The man started to laugh.

"But we have met, haven't we", he guffawed, "Don't ye remember me?" He uncovered his face.

"You!" Amashanae shouted, surprised, but found her composure instantly. "Did I not wet your head with ale well enough at the inn?" she said in a sarcastic tone and Asaryen looked at her, surprised.

"Do you know him?" she asked. The man grinned when Amashanae answered to Asaryen.

"Yes. This jester tried to...approach me recently but I taught him some manners. And...then something else happened...well never mind!" She looked the man straight in his eyes with an angry stare.

"Now, get lost! You have no business with us!" she blurted furiously and raised her blade higher to show she really meant what she said. She stared the man down for a while. Finally he seemed to come to a decision:

"Very well", the man said, turned around and made to leave, and then stopped in his tracks. He lifted his head a bit and remained in a pose as if waiting for a reaction. Had he faced the women they might have seen a smile on his face as he revealed his trump card like a true performance artist: "I wonder what I should do with all this water I have..."

Amashanae's pupils dilated. All three of them stood in position, no one saying anything for a while. One could have cut the silence with a knife; the tension in the air was so tangible. Amashanae tried to struggle against her pride and found no other option than to flatly refuse.

"Never in the..." she started but Asaryen cut in.

"Please stay. We really need some water!" she said with an anxious voice. Amashanae looked at her, astonished by the sudden interruption. "We haven't drunk a drop at all for over a day and we can already hear how the wasteland whispers a death for us", Asaryen continued, "So please, share your water with us. Also, might you have, while we're at it, any food with you?" The man turned back to them and gave an apologetic if crooked smile to Amashanae. Then he turned his attention to Asayren, who could not see his mocking expression in the shadows, and his eyes never left Amashanae's gaze.

"Yes, I have plenty of food for ye and for yer horses. I even have a flint with me so we can rekindle that abandoned campfire." Amashanae still stared at the man angrily and warily, but Asayren was already snatching the piece of stone from his hand when as he was finishing his sentence. "Well, it seems to be up to ye?" the man continued, still looking intently at Amashanae. Letting go, she closed her eyes and sighed, giving in to this unexpected salvation, even though she felt more than a little unsure of the situation.

"All right then, but only because I'm not here alone. And by morning you will be gone" she said. The man smiled but nodded in compliance, then slapped his palms together and whistled loudly as if calling someone.

"Some food and water coming right away", he said merrily, enjoying his showmanship and the situation. "And...please, dear girl, do put that blade away already", he pleaded with an expression that was more mockery than respect towards Amashanae.

"No girl to yee", she quickly snapped back, only then realizing that she was still holding her blade. But the man did not seem to react to her comeback.

"Ye do have a fine looking piece of steel there", the man said, clearly interested in the sword, staring at the engravings on its surface. But he had little time to do that.

"Not for your eyes", Amashanae said and promptly slid the blade back to the scabbard on her back. "Hmph!" With that, Amashanae took a few paces back, still wary, but admitted herself to be grateful for water. Grudgingly she accepted that the mysterious man had probably saved them from a certain doom. She backed up close to the palm tree and waited patiently, watching the scene. Asaryen had the flint already in use, and she was enthusiastically attempting to coax a weak flame with some dry leaves to make a proper campfire, using the sparks from the flint to guide her hand in the darkness that had already totally engulfed them. The man just stood there, arms crossed across his chest and looked at Asaryen, amused by her efforts to light a fire. Then there was a soft rustle on the sand as horses appeared on the clearing. Amashanae stared at the darkness and saw only two horses with saddlebags. No riders.

"Where..." she started, but the man interrupted her.

"Here comes the water and the food", he heralded mightily. Amashanae's horse neighed, obviously sensing relief from its suffering in the arrival of its fellow creatures. After the horses stopped the man begun to dig into the saddlebacks and pulled out a large water skin. He heaved it to Amashanae, who reached out quickly and grabbed it greedily. She loosened the cork and lifted the water skin on her lips. Delicious water flowed out, dripping on her cheeks when she drank in deep gulps. It tasted like finest nectar and she felt how the dry taste of dust dissolved in her mouth. She closed her eyes and inhaled quickly between gulps, almost out of breath. It was like a piece of heaven was streaming inside her body, and it began to dawn on her that they indeed had avoided an almost certain death. She opened her eyes and flexed her sore neck muscles, afraid of getting cramps for drinking too much too quickly, and took the skin to Asaryen, who also caught it anxiously when she felt the soft, familiar shape in her hands, and emptied it, gulping greedily. Amashanae gave a frown to the man to let him know this had not made them the best of friends yet, but still she could not deny being quite grateful. But while Amashanae pondered whether he really was a friend or foe who still might at some inopportune time still stab their back, the man had already located some animal feed in his saddlebacks and was catering them to the horses, along with water.

"Animals will get through this easy", he said, smiling, to explain his actions to Asayren, who had trouble seeing in the weak light of the campfire. "I'm giving them some water and something to feed on" Amashanae cast a suspecting look at the man, wondering if he really had that good a vision, or was he simply used to acting without seeing everything clearly. After he finished feeding the animals, he strolled to the campfire as if he was taking part on a merry camping trip and started to toss twigs and leaves into it, for a while paying no attention to the women who now sat by the palm trees, Amashanae watching and Asaryen with wide eyes looking at the fire. Then he spoke: "There's quite a considerable assortment of food in the saddlebacks. Please help ye self". Asaryen immediately bounced up like a hungry animal, groped her way to the nearest saddleback and started exploring its contents like a hungry packrat looking for treats. Whenever she found something of interest, she held it up against the light cast by the fire, trying to determine whether it was edible or not. She looked like a small child in her excitement, and the man watched her, amused.

"There is all kinds of stuff here!" she shouted out with wide eyes and an even wider smile, beaming in the dark and her voice full of laughter. "Apples, prunes...erm...this feels like pemmican...?" she listed while going through the contents. She nodded her head in the direction she just thought she saw Amashanae's shadowy figure at. "Come and see for yourself!" she said and as if to verify her words and threw a bag full of prunes towards Amashanae. She grabbed it lazily in midair as she walked over to see what else the saddleback contained. Amashanae was still exceedingly distrustful. She was dead tired with always getting her trust betrayed and she wanted to start placing reliance in someone, if only just a little. I can trust no one she reminded herself when she started to root the saddleback. And surely the contents proved something to rejoice about. There were different kinds of fruits, some of sorts that Amashanae had never seen before, but nevertheless looked enticing. Several small packs of pemmican, prunes, dates and other dried delicacies. Mushroom and small parcels of different kind of herbs and spices, some mysterious oils, root crops and of course water. Having the ability to see in almost pitch black darkness Amashanae had no need to bring the food to the light of the campfire in order to see the contents.

"You surely have lots of food with you?" Amashanae asked questioningly but rhetorically in a low voice and pondered what the reason was for that. Was he by any change escaping from someone or something? She had not noticed the man had also approached the bags and was standing right behind her.

"Well, I get around a lot" the man said haltingly. "But please support yeself, ye are weak." Amashanae felt a little uneasy and decided to keep her eyes on the man, who seemed to possess an uncanny ability to move without her noticing. She chose some pemmican from the saddleback and pushed it in her mouth, staring at the man. The meat was quite salty, but for a traveler suffering from such hunger it tasted divine. Her sense of taste flared into life when she gnawed on the pemmican and she twirled the dry meat in her mouth with her tongue while chewing it slowly. It was not wise to eat too quickly when one had a truly empty stomach. Asaryen bit her teeth in an apple and took little sips of water between bites. When the fruit was finished, she threw the core away, turned her head towards the man and looked at him from under eyebrows, a grateful expression on her face.

"You saved us".

"It was no..." the man started had no time to finish the sentence when Asaryen jumped on him, throwing her hands around his neck to embrace him and – for Amashanae's tremendous surprise – gave him a huge wet kiss. Amashanae's jaw fell. How on earth can she trust him so easily? She does not know what he is like! The man's eyes widened and he was obviously quite surprised himself.

"Hey!" he shouted, caught off guard, but repeated the word almost instantly in a much softer and alluring voice. "Hey...peach". He looked into Asaryen's e eyes for an instant and she looked into his, but then the man suddenly seemed to become aware of the situation and Amashanae's disapproving stare, and he pushed Asaryen gently away.

"Um, I mean thanks." Asaryen said, winking her eye for him and walked back to the saddlebacks. Amashanae stared as Asaryen begun rummaging through the bags once more. Asayren felt more than saw her reaction and gave her a kind of frown. "What?" she said and beamed innocently. "I wanted to thank him."

"You are nothing but a silly little girl" Amashanae said, wondering if the girl was as innocent as she appeared to be after all, but Asaryen ignored her and kept searching the bags for more food. Amashanae looked at him for a second and stepped up to him, pointing her finger at the man. "She is just a naïve girl – do not you even dare to try to harass her..."

"Calm down, tiger lady" the man interrupted. "I am an honorable man. Today". He voiced the last word so silently that he thought no one could hear it. "Besides, what do ye know about her anyway, knowing her for a full day or what?" But Amashanae just stepped close, stood up very near him, face right up to his face in defiance with the campfire casting its shadows on her cheek and revealing a blazing eye that stared at his eyes, and he almost lost his balance in surprise. She breathed deeply, holding her temper and her fists curled into tight knots but she managed to stay her hand, even though her thoughts raced back to the tavern and his drunken, evil demeanor. For a second they stood against each other like dogs about to fight while Asaryen kept looking for tidbits to chew on behind them. Then the man broke the silence: "I have to tend the fire", he whispered to Amashanae, who made an odd, snorting sound, turned on her heels and dashed off to the nearest palm tree, drawing her steel and sinking it in the tree trunk inches deep. The tree wavered under the blow. She let out a scream in a strange language the other two did not understand. She was not used to not being able to decide what to do.

"Let her calm down" the man said to Asaryen, who peered into darkness, puzzled about Amashanae's behavior and starting to walk towards her. Her lap was full of food and she stopped at his words, looked at the man questioningly, then looked at her loot and licked her lips, sat down next to the fire and begun to feast. Amashanae just stood there, stared at the sword jutting from the tree trunk for a while and calmed herself down. Then she yanked the blade from the wood, leaving a deep gash into the dry bark, and sat down with her back to the tree after she had sheathed the sword. With a blank expression she watched how Asaryen and the man ate and begun talking to each other, already like old friends. She kissed him. How could she be so innocent...or stupid, she thought. Maybe she was just jealous because she herself could not act like that? Amashanae dismissed the thought. Yet she had not killed the man, something had kept her back. Only she did not understand what. Maybe she was too harsh towards the girl after all. It was not exactly her fault that Amashanae had encountered so much trouble. Or maybe it was – she had not needed to save her from the bandits. Amashanae pondered what everything meant, feeling her thoughts beginning to wander as her tiredness was taking over her body. Maybe I'm too soft she thought, but then again the man and his boasting manners roused her anger. He is just trouble, she thought. But he saved our lives... that much is certain. She felt utterly alone and unsure of herself. So far her quest to find out more about her past and future had only revealed more complications and problems. The man seemed to be helpful, but he acted very gruffly. Trust no one, she thought. She could only hope that Asaryen would not become too attached to the man, because by the dawn he would better be gone his ways. Trust no one, she repeated in her mind like a mantra. That seemed the only thing she knew was safe and sure. To trust was to open a door for others to take advantage of her situation, or to invite them to kill her. For whatever the reasons, she did not know. But she knew that it would be better not to trust. She felt the dark cloak of sleep making its way in her mind and slowly she became aware of the cold rising from the desert now that the heat of the sun had evaporated from the sand into thin air. The amulet on her breast beckoned her hand, and she caressed its ancient surface once again.

Tahlthar, Tahlthar...shall I ever find thee? But the amulet gave no answer, and the reality around her invaded her thoughts with more pressing matters. It was not too warm here. She looked at the fire, felt its warmth even from the distance, and although she hated the thought of getting any nearer to the man, she decided she had to move closer.

Asaryen and the man were already deep in their conversation, keeping warm and chatting happily away – a little too familiar in her view. Amashanae sat down, clasped her legs and laid her sword in its sheath beside her on the sand. The two stopped talking and looked at her. She picked a prune from the bag Asaryen had placed next to the campfire and put it in her mouth.

"Well, are we abated now?" the man asked.

"Listen, you skunk..." Amashanae immediately started, put Asaryen cut in.

"Hey, don't...besides, he has a name, Juara. And he is a warrior", she said, seemingly taking pride in her newfound companion. "Juara saved us and you might show a little gratitude!"

On the other hand Amashanae understood Asaryen's affection towards the man, but on the other hand she would have liked nothing better than to send him packing. Still she decided to keep her feelings to herself for now. As if they had not noticed her disposition, she thought wryly.

"So, Juara, warrior, by which coincidence did you happen to find us?" she asked in a sarcastic tone. Juara laughed.

"I followed ye for a bit already and I noticed that ye might need a trifle help."

"I sensed you long time ago", Amashanae lied and wondered why was it her senses had not warned her at all. Perhaps that was the biggest reason she distrusted him immensely.

"But of course ye did", Juara said, also quite sarcastically. "But tell me, Amashanae, how did ye escape from the trolls?"

"Trolls?" Asaryen turned her head towards Amashanae and looked at her interrogatively.

"Yes, trolls" Juara answered without turning his eyes from Amashanae's. "I left the inn a bit of a nasty situation". Amashanae stared back at Juara.

"If it had been up to me, I'd have gladly have let them feast on your corpse", she said before answering the question: "I have my ways to avoid ending up troll fodder."

Juara laughed, still looking fixedly at Amashanae, and explained to Asaryen:

"We had some problems with monsters lately. I was a little worried of ye friend here but she seems to be able to keep out of trouble pretty well." Indeed, he had not forgotten the recent conflict. Why the trolls had attacked was still obscure to him, since it was indeed rare that the trolls attacked cities. Yet the worst part was that he had lost his newfound friend during the assault, and he hated having friendly people die around him. A lone warrior seldom makes friends – and friends willing to buy him drinks even less frequently. He spat into the fire, immersed in thought. The campfire snapped and popped when the fire devoured the dry wood and the chilly wind hissed quietly between the few trees surrounding them. For a long while everyone kept silent, staring at the fire, everyone perhaps remembering friends and relatives lost or missing, or in Amashanae's case not even known. Even Asaryen, who seemed to possess a gift for talking constantly had become absorbed in her thoughts. Amashanae slid down on the sand, pulling a blanket under her and another one to cover her body. She did not have the energy to care about anything more for today. The food in her stomach made her feel heavy and she yawned deeply when a tired lassitude took over her muscles. She closed her eyes. The silent hum of the campfire reassured her senses and she begun to fall asleep. Instinctively she checked that she had her blade close at hand and hardly heard how Asaryen begun to speak again, as the blanket of sleep dimmed her senses.

"So Juara...why don't you tell me about your kin" asked by Asaryen was the last thing her brain registered before she fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER 5

It was cold and quiet. There was a pungent stench around, and a sense of a closed space, devoid of the sounds of nature. Slowly the man opened his eyes, afraid of what he might see, and completely lost about his surroundings. At first he saw nothing but after a few blinks he begun to see a little something; there was enough ambient light seeping in from somewhere – greenish and sick – to allow some visibility. At first everything was a bit blurry and he felt a rush of blood in his head as he peered out into the semi-darkness, but quite quickly everything started to become clear to him. He heaved his head a bit and looked around him. It took him a minute before he realized that the shapes lying around him in random arrangements – everyone and everything around him were dead. Not a sound of a breath or a movement anywhere. Maimed orcs lay here and there in abnormal and awkward positions no living thing could ever achieve. He tried to sit up but one of his former chums lay dead on top of him, his mutilated visage seeming to mock his effort and staring at him with his single surviving eye. The man, startled, uttered a panicky whine and pushed the corpse away from him. Quickly he arose and stepped away from the gruesome sight, and with his eyes wide open and mouth ajar he turned his head around and realized he was the sole survivor – and alone in this expansive cave.

His posture slouched when he begun to take it all in, his friends lying dead among the filthy and reeking orcs, took another step backward, and almost stumbled on another corpse. Trying to compose himself he looked around for a wall or a fixture, anything to lean on, for he did not want to stumble on in this pile of death before he had properly regained his wits. What happened, he thought and tried to make sense of his situation, realizing he had suffered some loss of memory. They had – he and his fellow captains and a horde of orcs in their command – been on an important mission, and...they had actually also accomplished it. Memories flooded his throbbing head like a tidal wave. They had found the grave that Raelia Elvenkiller, their supreme commander, had been desperately looking for. Yes, and little had they expected what they finally had found.

What they had searched for certainly had been in this ample cave he was in, high up on the mountains, almost unreachable. A memory of freezing wind and biting cold made his flesh shiver. How they had lost two of their strongest orcs in a sudden avalanche, and how they had been cursing the mountain and swearing to end their quest very soon if they found nothing shortly. As if any would have dared to return to Raelia empty-handed and without a good explanation. And sure enough, all too busy bickering amongst themselves and concentrating on surviving the high altitude coldness their orc-platoon seemed to pay little attention to, they would have probably walked right past it, had they not have had that magical stone, given to them by Raelia, and which had started glowing when they had gotten near the grave.

The entrance of the cave was thickly covered with very large stones welded in place by ice and snow, and they had been hard at work for almost two weeks to make their way inside, while uncomfortably dwelling in tents and makeshift huts and working in shifts until their hands had bled. And finally, when the final disc of stone was loosened, they had still had to wait a full day because of smell of death and decay within the cave, sealed there for thousands of years, had to be let out and fresh air let in, before even the orcs could enter. But then they had finally entered the cave, which was truly cavernous after they had descended a long passageway hewn into the rock and leading into the main chamber deep in the living rock of the mountain. After igniting their torches they had soon discovered the chamber to be very ascetic and plain. No gold, no decorations, nothing, at least for them to loot. Not even a stone gargoyle in sight. There was just a big stone altar in the middle of the cave, and a small cinerary urn on top of it.

Disappointed and irritated about the lack of treasures to loot they had built a campfire in the cave and started to get drunk, rewarding themselves for the hardship of weeks of searching and digging on the frozen mountainside. At least there was no biting wind here, and the fire was enough to warm the men even in the huge cave. But then they had run into a problem. Singing and fighting, relaxing the way men of their kind usually do, and the orcs raising hell amongst their own as they always did, some of them had butted the little urn atop the altar just a little bit. But it had been enough. The lid had dropped, spinning in the air, onto the altar and then on to the floor of the cave. Everybody was immediately sobered and alert. Even the orcs quieted down. Raelia had especially made it very clear that if someone would touch the actual grave itself, she would personally make every single member of the team suffer and regret such a deed.

For a while there was a complete silence, every man and creature held their breath, and nothing seemed to happen. But then, suddenly an abhorrent sound emanated from the urn and the altar beneath it burst to little pieces that exploded through the air and ricocheting from the walls, piercing a few unlucky orcs like arrowheads and ending the awaiting silence with a deafening roar. The sound and din in the cave reached ultimate levels – something beyond mere chaos that even made the timeless rock around them tremble. No one had ever heard anything so awful. Panic gripped the simple minds of orcs, spreading like wildfire to their captains as well, and the whole troop started dashing around in chaos, gripping their weapons and still trying to cover their ears. The remains of the floor under the altar cracked, something seemed to rise from somewhere in the depths beneath. The campfire had been spread and trampled by the feet rushing madly about, not capable of feeling any pain from the embers, but now a deep darkness swept over the cave and only a few dying embers here and there dimly glowed on the floor. Nothing could be seen and the only sounds seemed to be the rapid breathing of orcs and their captains. Then, as un-expectantly as it had ceased, the world again exploded into sounds of pain and battle, death-growls and the screams of dying ors bellowing in fright echoing as if endlessly from the walls of the cave, there had been a painful explosion in his head and everything had gone black.

This had been not a long ago he understood. The body on top of him had still been warm. There was no time to be wasted pondering why had he survived while all the others had perished, for he realized that now he needed to get out of the cave, and make haste of it. He turned his head around and peered into the void to find the passageway out of the cave. There, a slightly darker patch of darkness. He quickly made his way up, stepping over the dead bodies and stumbling in the darkness, only wanting to get fresh air and a sense of air around him, to get away from this pit of death and darkness. He made it up the passageway, running like a bat out of hell, and made it to the top. But there was a strange humming sound at the cave entrance. He did not know what it was but he ran towards the entrance with all his available energy. The distance was not long but when he collided against something, some sort of an invisible seal over the entrance, he realized it was too late. He was trapped like a fly in a jar. He pounced at the barrier, making almost animal-like guttural sounds of anger and desperation, battering the invisible wall with his fists.

On the other side of the barrier he could plainly see their equipment piled at the cave entrance, left there at camp when they had entered the cave, and the piles of stones they had lifted from the entrance. Wheezing, he ceased his pounding and drew in desperate breaths of air; staring out into the freedom and the frozen mountainside outside with wide eyes, sweat already drying into icy pearls on his forehead. He could not break the barrier, yet the freezing mountain wind had no trouble getting through it. Then something caught his eye – the orc guard they had left to watch their equipment was peering at him from behind a rock pile, scared shiftless at the sight of his bloodied captain in panic, soundlessly clawing at the air as if an invisible wall. The captain could only watch, as the orc turned its head, eyes wide and ears down slipped away, rather facing the cruel mountains alone than remaining at this incomprehensible scene. Desperately the captain again banged his head on the magic wall and heaved a deep, trembling sigh. Then, suddenly his eyes opened wide again and he froze in his tracks. The sound – the din – it had returned, rising from the depths of the cave towards him. Feeling his blood freeze solid in his veins he managed to turn around and saw something unbelievable. A huge, immaterial claw approached him from the darkness, and even if the magical wall had not been soundproof, only the two mountain goats making their way across the snowy mountainside in search of hay nearby would have heard his cry of horror when he died. The cry of death echoed down the ravines and gorges, and to a distant listener it might have sounded like a huge stone wheel creaking forward.

*****

His opening eyes reflected the oddly dim canopy of stars above the desert. It was still night and Juara felt a little chilly. He tried to sit up, realizing that Asaryen had cuddled up to him. The woman slept peacefully, pressed flush against his warm body, and he found he could not stop staring at her. It certainly was a sight to his liking. Asaryen was pretty and Juara was a kind of a man who definitely enjoyed his women. And women surely do enjoy me, a complacent thought flashed in his mind. Carefully he brushed off some loose hair from Asaryen's cheek. As he watched her sleep he realized her beauty and closeness pleased him greatly. Her features were not exactly regal or noble but she was far from plain in any case. A country girl with a slightly childish, round face, large eyes and a fair, even skin, unblemished by the hardness of rural life. Not a worker, then, but perhaps a merchant's daughter, he deduced. She was not exactly slender either, but that was due to her voluptuous curves rather than bulk, and these curves Juara could not help but notice as he let his gaze follow Asaryen's neck down to her breasts. Juara tilted his head a bit, eyes moving downward and starting to gleam, but the rising fire in them was extinguished instantly as he looked to his left side.

Because there he saw the elf, still sleeping uneasily. Juara hawked, clearing his throat cautiously and gently, if unwillingly pushed Asaryen away. Better not to, he thought to himself. Even though she appeared to sleep fast, Juara could see her eyes in the back of his mind. Godlike, those eyes, he thought. No doubt many a man had given up his mortal coil for the sake of those eyes...she hardly understands how far could she go just on account of those eyes; the things she could achieve with just a few glances of gold and emerald from between her lashes. He shook away such thoughts and told himself to concentrate on the present. Stay with the elf, forget the country rose. He stood up, collected and threw a couple of pieces of palm tree bark and sticks to the fire which, sparkling and cracking, flared into a new blaze and begun to cast new warmth around. Much better he thought. The flames flickered on the surface of Amashanae's scabbard and revealed the amulet on her bosom. That amulet, that sword...I have to concentrate on finding out more about the elf. I know...I'm sure she'll lead me to something...she must be a key to find something...a new life even... In the orange light of the flames he flexed and yawned, watching Amashanae thoughtfully, pondering how should he approach the elf, what attitude to adopt towards her from now on. She was a force to be reckoned on her own, and he was not entirely sure if she would consider him friend or foe even now. He spent a few minutes warming in the blaze of the fire and adding some new wood to it. Then she spent a minute just looking appreciatively at Asaryen, still sleeping, returning to his berth of sand and blankets next to the women. Carefully he set himself down again and pressed his face against Asaryen's hair and drew in a deep, careful breath. He really wanted to kiss her, but some instinct inside him told him not to do so.

"Better not to", he whispered before he fell asleep.

*****

The door of the library opened, the noise of hinges squeaking as if carping their disturber, and Raelia stepped in. She looked around her, trying to retrace the shape of the room in the gloomy light of her lantern. She had not been here for dozens of years. She had not needed to visit here, because she had all her most important books up in her chamber and thus the long descent down here was seldom required. For any less critical information she might require and did not have in her study, there certainly were many servants around who would hurry down here and clarify the issue. As powerful as she was in magic, she was still a woman who rather avoided the dusty, dry old library infested with spiders and their webs. The library room was quite large and her collection of ancient volumes was quite considerable. Thousands of books rested, in echelons almost majestic, on high oak shelves, carefully organized. Walking between the tall shelves she moved towards a heavy door in the back wall, standing still as if a part of the construction, with no lock or handle at all. When she arrived at the door she waved her hand in the air.

"Indoarath utoel"

With a shrill creak the door opened under the power of her spell, and revealed its contents to Raelia. It was a small and insignificant room, more like a roomy closet, but in the middle of it there was a low stone platform, on which rested the Decamod. Raelia entered the room. How will it react? Will it be accessible? Has it gone sour and will it punish her for disturbing its peace again? Raelia pressed her palm on the book's leather-like top cover that looked suspiciously alive, and right away her body jerked in a spasm, feeling a burst of magic rumbling through her.

The Decamod was obviously testing if she was strong enough to explore its secrets. And it was ready to open up again. A small blue circle surrounded her as the magic showered from the book onto her body. She grinned with a full set of teeth, tasting a coppery taste in her mouth, and pounced upon the book and started to wrestle it. Her head snapped forward when she concentrated to change the direction of the stream of energy. Even she needed to use a great amount of her willpower – if not all of it. Her teeth gnashed tightly together and her eyes narrowed to stripes as she focused her mind to channel her magic. She clamped the book with her gleaming knuckles and her already sweaty hair glued on her pale face. She felt increasing pain as the book amassed its bursts of energy to counteract her powers. She opened her mouth to scream out her pain and rage, when all of a sudden the book drew all the energy away and she collapsed over it. She breathed heavily but grinned wide; the book had accepted her entrance once again.

She stepped back a little, and with her long sleeve swept the sweat away from her face and threw her hair back. She waited till her breathing had steadied and then she stepped ahead and opened the Decamod. And at that very moment all the voices in the room ceased to exist as if all the air had been sucked out leaving only a vacuum. The book immersed all the sounds and voices in it, thus assuring that no living soul could throw any spells against it. The same instant Raelia felt how something - like some tiny, reaching worm - tried to penetrate her mind, searching and gnawing its way in her thoughts. But she had cultivated her mental skills for years and easily dismissed the intruder, and the book let her continue further. She fixed her attention and in her thoughts sent a question to the book.

"Firnaraee?"

The book remained silent.

"Firnaraee?" she ventured again, but still the book did not react. Usually she would not have bothered to go any further, but this time was different and she was adamant. She gave it a third try, pushing the book with all her might until she felt her head was about to explode. Finally a faint light started to shine from within the book and its pages started to turn its pages slowly forward. Raelia caught her breath and steadied herself. The book geared up but still there was no voice or any sound in the room, not even from the now rapidly turning pages. Then the book stopped dead. Raelia raised her face above the Decamod and began scrutinizing the knowledge the book admitted her to read.

*****

Amashanae woke up to the first rays of light and slowly opened her eyes to meet the warm glow of the morning sun driving away the cold of the desert still lingering around them in the shadows of the palm trees. She got up to her knees, stretching her slender limbs and took time to rub her neck. It was quite sore after a restless night on the coarse sand of the oasis. She sat down again, crossing her legs under her, pushing the thin blanket aside and gazed upon the awakening desert around her. She looked at the girl, and Asaryen was still fast asleep. Amashanae looked at her calm, sleeping face, still in the shadow, and thought about waking her up to bathe in the first rays of the sun. So innocent she thought to herself as she watched her, forgetting the desert, the chase, everything around her for a fleeing moment. Memories...she felt she should have memories of moments not much dissimilar to this, rushing in her mind, filling her senses...but she was filled with a desperate void once more. What am I missing? Why am I not as she is, without worrying about the unknown? Again she was brought back to the reality of her situation, remembering the chaos and the turmoil of the past few days and it hit her like a sledgehammer. The horses, that man...and then she realized that Juara was nowhere to be seen. Immediately she got her hands on her blade, drawing it out and turning around in a defensive posture. Too careless! This was not the time or the place for laxity in keeping one's guard.

"Still on yer toes?" she heard Juara say and turned towards where the horses were. "I'm just readying the horses here, but if ye feel it threatens ye, well, I just can't help it, can I" he said in a casual tone, stressing his own ease in the situation. He didn't even look at Amashanae. She felt a twinge of guilt in her chest for a fleeing moment – after all, lately he had done little to deserve her distrust – but she did not want Juara to think so. No, he was not to be trusted. I do know what a pig you are when drunk, she thought, her anger towards the man, now casually smirking at her, rising in her again. It was the first time she actually got a good look at him, and he really did look like a lone warrior: two swords and modest armour mostly covered by a long cloak. I suppose many ladies fall for you easily, prankster, but not me. Because he looked like a man in his prime; black, long and thick hair and ruggedly built body and not an unpleasant face, either. She stood up, sword still in hand, and approached the man with the sunlight gleaming on the surface of her shiny blade. In a cool, steady and almost laconic voice that was purposefully left devoid of feeling she said to Juara:

"Regardless of how I feel about your person, I am grateful for your help. Now would be a good time to keep your promise and leave us!" Juara did not seem to pay any attention, only kept busy readying the horses and making as if he had not understood her at all. Instead, he just mocked her further.

"Well well well, are we getting all soft here all of a sudden? I should have expected ye to resist my charm a little longer...however irresistible a man I am, no doubt..." and exploded into laughter. Amashanae tilted her head on one side and stared at him with an angry twist of her eyebrow, unable to hide her annoyance. And she did not know if it was that helplessness to hold her piece that made her even angrier. She lifted the tip of her blade to point at Juara, and opened her mouth to speak. Yet she could not find the words, and let down her sword, muttering curses under her breath as she turned on her heels and returned to Asaryen. This was not the moment to fight. They might need the man. And there was something else about him too, something she could not put her mind on, and it confused her. She heard Juara laugh on as he lifted the saddle on his horse, but decided not to worry about the man for the time being. She sheathed her blade and prodded Asaryen on the side with the tip of her boot.

"Wake up, girl. Morning has broken and it is time to move on." Asaryen started, one hand touching her side where the boot hit her and the other waving in the air as if to shake away Amashanae, but did rise up and opened her eyes slowly to the rude awakening.

"Wh...what, is it the morning? I'm still asleep" she nevertheless sat up and begun to rummage through their bags for something to drink and eat. "I have to get something in my stomach before we leave." She looked at Amashanae. "Have you had breakfast already?"

"No time to eat. Just get up and...", but before she finished the sentence Juara cut in.

"The girl is right. We must eat a little before we leave this place. It is only a day's journey to the edge of the desert, we shall be much stronger well fed than if we go hungry."

"I'm not a girl anymore...", Asaryen complained in a sullen, quiet voice, but kept on looking through the bags.

"Asaryen, shut up!", Amashanae snapped, turning to Juara. "For your information, I shall eat whenever I feel like eating. And secondly, what do you mean we shall go?" she stared at Juara intently, her anger and distrust flaring again. "I do believe we agreed to part our ways with me and Asaryen going our own way this morning."

"Well, I just thought I might provide ye with some protection, and besides...do ye actually know which way to go from here?"

"Of course I know where to go!", Amashanae snorted, rising her voice, although deep inside she felt she was already losing this battle of wills again – for she had no actual inkling of the right direction.

"Look, I have no hidden agendum here" Juara said in a more apologetic tone. "I just do not like the thought of ye two fair ladies all alone in the desert. At the mercy of the elements."

"We'll be fine!" Amashanae exclaimed, and held a little pause, staring Juara down. He opened his palms to her in a gesture of letting the argument be. Amashanae turned to Asaryen, who was still going through the bag, decidedly not looking up like a child who wants no part in a fight between parents. "Or at least I shall manage. Take the girl with you if you insist on saving a poor woman from whatever you fear is out there!"

Hearing this, Asaryen quit going through the bags and looked up to Amashanae with wide eyes, like a puppy whose feelings had been hurt. Juara started again:

"Look, however clever and capable ye ladies are – and I know ye weren't born yesterday (although while saying this he cast a worried look at young Asaryen, who noticed the look and her face got all red) – trust me, ye'll be much better off with me, Juara. Do ye even have a place in mind to go to? It is but a day's journey to the edge of the desert and from there it is a few more days to Kiarra. And there we may wash the desert dust out of our lungs for good, stay at a decent inn, eat, sleep and..." he paused, leaving the final thing in his mind unsaid, remembering his current company's gender.

"...and perhaps we could put our skills in use and earn a coin or two, eh?", he looked at Amashanae with an inquiring expression, but she was obviously still at a loss about what to make of the whole situation. She had not planned on him tagging along and making plans on her behalf, but still she felt a strange relief in his words that lured her to accept the offer. Perhaps she would be better off continuing her quest in company. But the distrust he felt for the man confused her, and for a split second she even saw in her mind's eye how she could simply cut Juara down with her blade and leave her own ways, as she had so far. End of man, end of problem - and uncertainty. And then she got even more confused, when Asaryen suddenly got up and hugged her tightly.

"Amashanae, I want you to come with us. You are my only friend." Amashanae was dumbstruck and stepped back, but Asaryen kept her hold and she almost lost her balance on the soft sand.

"I...", Amashanae started, but gulped back her words in confusion. She made to push Asaryen away from her, but she clinged to her body like a child to her mother. No! Her mind screamed, I do not have any friends, yet she had to resist a sudden urge to laugh out loud with a strange delight. And then Juara uttered words that swept Amashanae's mind clear as a bell once more.

"I hear that in Kiarra there is also this fellow, Tahlthar...", he said, digging his boot in the sand and turning his suddenly innocent little-boy gaze to the now blue and bright sky where the sun had already appeared in its full glory, ready to scorch the sandy dunes for yet another day.

"What!", Amashanae screamed, pouncing at Juara so that Asaryen was cast on her back onto the sand like a rag doll. The muscles on Amashanae's body twitched with a sudden rush of adrenaline and her voice dropped dangerously low.

"What do you know of Tahlthar?" But Juara still managed to keep his cool.

"Well, I've just heard a few things..."

"Tell me now or die right here right now!", Amashanae said, and suddenly her blade appeared and tickled the man's throat. But Juara was not easily scared it seemed; he just stared Amashanae straight in her elven eyes. For a moment that seemed like eternity for Asaryen, who still lied on the sand with all her hair standing up, they just stared at each other without blinking, even Juara finally dead serious after all the playful banter he'd teased the women with for all their short period of acquaintance.

"Join us and find out for yerself", he finally said in a voice as dry as the sand around them, and without batting an eyelid pushed her sword away from his face with the palm of his hand.

"I...", Amashanae started again, puzzled and taken aback, when all of a sudden she realized there was something moving in the tree above her. Her senses flared as she readied herself and peeked up into the leaves of the palm tree beside them. A bewildered amazement filled her eyes. "What beast of darkness is this..." she muttered as she found herself gazing upon a small, ashen creature lying in the shadows of the leaves. It was but a foot and a half in length with a tail of some four more inches, which it was fervently but soundlessly snapping from side to side, like a cat about to attack, while staring down at Amashanae. Or at least so it seemed. At first it was hard to tell, for the creature had large, yellowish and bulging eyes that lacked pupils altogether, making it hard to judge exactly where it was looking at. It had a snout of sorts, or rather a trunk, with which he ceaselessly kept sniffing the air, and small ears that twisted and turned constantly as it listened to what was going on around it.

"Up in the tree...a strange creature. Look!" Amashanae said to the others, puzzled, without parting her eyes from the creature's featureless gaze and holding the sword up between herself and the tree.

"I know" Asaryen said in a bored voice. "It is Juara's pet, Trahur".

"What?" Amashanae exclaimed, turning towards Asaryen in disbelief. How could the girl know of this creature when even she with her elven senses hardly had noticed it appear. "What?" she again asked, in a more steady voice but the sword still cautiously held up in front of her. Juara seemed to be quite amused by the whole situation and just got up shaking sand off his cloak with a content smile on his lips. Then he spoke:

"I introduced it to Asaryen last night when ye slept. Indeed it is my pet, Trahur. The best scout I have ever met." Amashanae turned to Juara, her sword never wavering, and her expression suggested Juara to continue. She begun to feel like she had been played a fool for long enough, and Juara proceeded to explain in a more calming tone, wiping the smirk off his face.

"It is my own little scout. It never communicates with anybody else, it has sort of...chosen me as its host. It serves me well and seems to require no nourishment, no sleep." Juara looked up at the strange little creature.

"Noerzh graumngg" he said deep in his throat, and the creature slid down the tree trunk like dark quicksilver, and jumped on Juara's shoulder.

"But..." Amashanae begun, still suspicious and wondering, but started to lower her blade. "What does it want from you? How can you talk to it? How come I did not sense its presence here?" These days Brodérunn had far too many new things to throw at her.

"It comes from another level of the world..." Asaryen begun to explain with an excited glee in her eyes, but Juara interrupted her.

"Quite right, it comes from another level of the world. It is something we cannot understand. That is why ye could not sense its presence. And what comes to why me...it has chosen me simply because it seems to need one, and I happened to be there. I do not know what it does or where it goes, but it seems to use me as a beacon to home in this world, or something to that effect. That is my part of the bargain. That is what I can offer it. It does me no harm. And the language...I cannot explain how it happened, but it taught me how to speak to it. The words just come to me in its company. As ye now know, this being is hard to notice...but even harder to comprehend. Ye never did notice it, yet it has followed ye all the way from Salvatágg.

"Trahur" Amashanae said quietly as she sheathed her blade. The creature looked at her with those lidless spheres of eyes, head tilted to its side, impossible to read and alien as anything she ever saw.

"I know, I know, but that is the way it seems to be" Juara suddenly spoke at the creature, which had apparently communicated with him somehow. The women looked at Juara questioningly, stunned as if by a magician's trick on market. But, before either had time to ask further questions, Juara clapped his hands together.

"Well, shall we be on our way, then? The sun is up already and we ought to make it to the edge of the desert before sundown." He looked at Amashanae and added, as if to make sure she would come along with them. "We shall go and seek Tahlthar." His voice was such that the women understood that he did not wish to delve in the subject any further, at least for the time being, and so they begun to make ready. Amashanae felt a twinge of anger in her again, but managed to keep it under control. She had little to carry, so she stepped in a shadow of a palm tree and just watched as Asaryen and Juara collected their belongings and packed them in the saddlebags. Then they readied the rest of the horses. Amashanae still did not quite know what to make of this all. So much had happened within just a few days. Asaryen, to start with. The innocent, young girl who seemed to be almost painfully earnest and naive. So quick to bond with her, yet she was not sure at all if she needed a friend. Then Juara, not to mention his strange little creature from nowhere. Back at the inn she had certainly considered him to be an enemy, but she was not too sure any more. She looked at Juara and Asarayen quietly loading the bags on the horses. How can he know of Tahlthar? Is he deceiving us? Is this just a plot and is he leading us into a trap? Yet she knew now she had no choice but to follow the path destiny seemed to throw at her. After all, it seemed to be a rare opportunity to find people she did not end up killing or maiming right away, and any clues about her past seemed few and far between. Am I going to find you now, Tahlthar, whatever you turn out to be? She walked to her horse and caressed its flank, and the horse turned its head and lowered it.

"Shall we?" asked Juara as he helped Asaryen up to the saddle. He smiled at her with a playful expression on his face and pushed her up by her buttocks. Asaryen giggled and glanced down at the handsome warrior, face flushed. Amashanae mounted her horse, which neighed and reared to go, well rested and anxious to respond to her every command. Ready and able as she herself felt after a night's rest, even if the morning had been full of surprises. Despite her plight and suspicions, she suddenly found she could not help smiling a little, but she kept that feeling well to herself as she whispered to the horse to go. There was promise in the air. And thus the three of them embarked on their journey towards the edge of the desert and the town of Kiarra – and Tahlthar.

CHAPTER 6

The sun was slowly creeping beyond the skyline and darkness begun to stretch its long fingers across the landscape once again. Beams of the sun's last rays still pierced the shadows, casting a warm glow here and there, and a few lone rays reflected golden glitter from Strutto's sabre as he waved it above his head. Strutto and his troop had walked a good distance indeed for one day, and when the familiar groans of fatigue had begun to emanate from his fierce but impatient goblins once again, he had, true to his habits, resorted to using his favorite method of rallying his troops – intimidation. Cursing and threatening with his sabre he had pushed the weary goblins on, and the party had marched all the way to the edge of the desert, where the gloomy and dangerously expansive woods of Perenrod begun. The forest transpired the powers of nature and it indeed seemed to start directly from the edge of the desert, as if a magic line had been once drawn to separate the dead sands from the lush vegetation.

Strutto examined the small army at his command. Even though he was cruel – and admittedly sometimes a bit slow – he did have his moments. He realized that the troop required some rest already, and gave a command to halt and set up a camp. A group of his minions ran into the darkness of the forest to find firewood while others began to delve into their bags for something to eat. Strutto laughed silently to himself. He regarded himself a brilliant commander. I have to secure the area, he thought to himself. Proud of his leadership skills, he waved at the nearest underling to approach him.

"Hey, you there! I want you to find two companions and check the perimeter for half a mile around here"

"Yes, boss..."

Strutto bounced up, staring at the goblin with burning eyes, "How many times have I told you earthworms to call me commander?" he yelled. The goblin averted his gaze with an embarrassed look, lowering its head and keeping still.

"And what are you waiting for? How's that area securing?", Strutto asked.

"Um, yes bo...I mean commander...very sorry sir...but what was that periwinkle thing again?" the goblin managed with a scared look in its eyes.

"PERIMETER! The area around here! SECURE IT!" Strutto shouted. Cursed grunts...I should be commanding the guards or something, he thought, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with a pained expression on his face.

"Umm, yes bo... I mean commander. We will go straight after..."

"Now!", Strutto roared, throwing his gauntlet at the thick-headed goblin, and it skulked away quickly to find a few others to help with the assignment. He knew it would find it hard to find two others to join in the assignment, since none of them had had a change to eat and rest yet. But soon enough a triad of tired and hungry goblins scrambled with their spears and swords to check the area around their camp.

"All you need is some cruelness", Strutto thought out aloud, picking his gauntlet up, but failed to notice how very near him in the shadows of the some small but very agile being slipped deeper in the shadows and vanished into the dark woods.

The three goblins on the assignment walked in a line, already some distance away from the camp. They were talking in their own, growling language that would have sounded not much else but a series of grunts and groans to anyone else but goblins.

"Me don't like me boss", the least gifted one of the trio exclaimed.

"Shut up or it kill you", another spat under its breath, glancing around it in the darkness with big eyes, clearly somewhat worried.

"Yourself shut up!" the third hissed, and shoved at the shoulder of the previous one.

The conversation continued along such high-brow lines for a time, until the leader of the pack, the one Strutto had trusted the mission to, interrupted the trouble-making.

"Now shut up both! We only peep at top o that one mound and then, then we buzz back to camp. Me hungry! Maybe there is meat wait us in camp! Get back quick, quick!", it instructed its companions, and as soon as it mentioned food, it already felt the scent of flesh in his goblin nostrils and a thin line of drool ran along its chin without being noticed.

"Me like meat!", another almost screamed with glee and a huge grin. The third one uttered nothing, just turned and begun to climb the knoll. Cursing and almost tripping over some roots jutting up from the sandy soil they tried to make their way to the top, only to suddenly discover somebody standing there, clearly waiting for them to get up close.

"Well, are not we slow, are we", the lone female figure said rhetorically, eyeing the goblins, well aware that steel would be the only language they would understand. "Stupid animals", she continued in a lazy voice and pulled her blade from its scabbard tied to her back and then grinned at the amazed goblins, uttering something even they could understand: "Time to die!"

However surprised the goblins might have been, they came round relatively fast, and once their initial astonishment passed, one of them promptly proceeded to attack further hesitation.

"Me kill!" the goblin screamed in its foul language and lunged forward at the new threat, who easily dodged to the left and with an easy movement of her wrist spun her blade in the air so that the blade gave out a twang as it bent slightly under the stress of the momentum and neatly sliced the goblins head off. Its body fell down on its knees, black blood swelling from the gaping wound in a hesitant fountain as the head rolled down the incline. The two other goblins just stared at their dead companion with their eyes full of terror for a fleeing moment, but terror soon turned to anger and they begun to growl threatingly. She just watched them with a bored smile, clearly unimpressed at the big green monsters. This was something the goblins did not expect, and it made them feel uneasy. One started roaring and rolling its eyes but the performance was cut short and its eyes widened and the roar was extinguished as it felt a knife pushing through its neck penetrating its trachea and throat. It tried to grab the blade and scream but all it managed was a shower of black blood squirting from its mouth. The third goblin hesitated and then turned around to flee as it saw another enemy emerge from the shadows, but it did not make it far before a heavy kick on its back stopped its retreat. Spinning it flew down the knoll and landed on its belly on a patch of thick ferns, instantly jumping up and turning to face its enemy again. But the goblin had no time to react further before it got a kick it on its forehead sending a flash of colors into its brain and it dropped down on the soil again. It opened its eyes to stare at the assailant as a blade penetrated its chest. There was a final breath of air, and the goblin wheezed out something only partially decipherable.

"Strutto... kills...", and then its dark eyes turned dead as the spark of life in them fled.

"I would have managed without you", Amashanae said, without turning, as she yanked her blade free again and proceeded to wipe the black blood off it. "There were only three of them"

"Huh, ye are just jealous that Trahur found them before ye did. Besides, there are dozens more of those ahead. Plenty slicing for ye and ye blade", he responded and begun to check the bodies for loot, missing Amashanae's half-muttered answer.

"That's what I'm worried about "

Amashanae sheathed her blade and noticed Asaryen approaching with their horses.

"You could have been a little more careful...I almost got a goblin's ugly head right on my lap down there" she exclaimed, clearly shaken. Obviously she was not used to seeing goblin corpses around her. It had begun to get darker and she stared at the dead with wide-open eyes, happy she could not see properly.

"Juara and I will take care of the rest of... these" Amashanae said calmly. "You should stay back here because you would not see a thing in the darkness."

"But...", Asaryen shrieked, terrified at the thought of being left alone in the dark with the dead goblins.

"Don't ye worry girl", Juara said, "Amashanae sees well enough in the dark and my eyes... well, they are already somewhere out there. For ye it's truly safer to wait here amidst the trees."

Juara's words relaxed Asaryen some and she turned her eyes down, but Amashanae found herself to be a bit annoyed about how easily the girl gave in to Juara. She pondered what kind of an effect he had on Asaryen. Or vice versa. She grabbed the bridle of her horse from Asaryen's hand, mounted the animal and it neighed.

"We will see if there will be anything left for you to deal with" she said to Juara, who was still arranging his gear, and then she slammed her heels onto the horse's flanks and galloped away into the darkness.

"Damnation!" Juara shouted after her and ran for his horse. He jumped in the saddle and grabbed the reins, but held on for last words of advice for Asaryen.

"Seriously, girl, wait here. I'll come to get ye after the battle is over." With that he gave Asaryen a blink of his eye and sped after Amashanae. Just before he vanished into the mist he could just hear angry words from behind him.

"I'm not a girl anymore..."

*****

In the goblin camp Strutto strained his eyes looking out to the dark desert and the tree line just visible to his right, trying to see something – anything – in the darkness.

The glare of the many fires his troop had lit around the camp made it hard to see into the thickening darkness around, and yellow flames reflected golden on the metal of his armour as he paraded. Where are those three fools? Had the desert sands swallowed them? He walked a bit closer to one of the campfires, and the goblin warriors gathered around it regarded him with looks of mixed fear, respect and hate. Just the way he liked it. The night was approaching fast, but something stirred his senses. Was that a sound of approaching riders? His eyes dilated. Someone was approaching their camp – and fast. He drew his sabre and screamed to rally his soldiers. Maybe now he would have a chance to prove himself.

*****

An indignant mistress walked along the hallways of her palace. Raelia had gotten nothing but vague clues out of the Decamod. Her mind was filled with information but it was in shambles, it would take a while for her brain to filter Decamod's magical stream injected in to her brain.

"That cursed book" her angry muttering reverberated through the corridors as she made her way up from the vaults that held the library and the ancient book she had consulted. But nobody heard her, for she was using pathways of the palace that very few of its dwellers knew about. There were secret passages everywhere built in its thick walls and structures, reaching everywhere around Thraewnys. Raelia used these passages very frequently and knew them inside out. As she slipped into yet another corridor from behind a curtain hiding the passage, she was fervently going over in her mind what the book had told her. Or what she thought it said at least, in terms close to her own language.

And thou shall find the defeat of the great demon by a waving plain. The one who carries the relic shall yield thee victory. None without the blessed item shall pass the dragon's lair. Through victory the apostate shall be perished.

"By demons, what is that waving plain?", she snapped out aloud. "And what is the blessed item?" Raelia clambered on up the stairs towards her chamber. Options, options...those she had a few. Certainly she would need time to decode Decamod's whispers. The book would no be closed for another lifetime – if she only could understand the message from the hints it gave, she would have more authority against the book and would be able to get more information out of it te next time. And could that dragon, Bathalá, still be alive? Thoughts raced in her mind as she clambered the final steps and arrived to the door. For a moment she thought about how hard she would strike the dragon if it were alive still, and how that creature, considered divine by many, would perish under her full onslaught. She paused on the threshold and smiled to herself, savoring the thought. Then she opened the door and stepped into her chamber.

*****

"Someone is coming!", Strutto screamed at the top of his lungs with his best commander-assertive voice, and at the very moment he finished his sentence Amashanae swept down from the darkness on her horse towards him. His eyes barely registered a fierce figure with burning eyes hurtling towards him and then he saw a quick flash of steel and felt a thump on his breast, and then he was already flat on the ground with knees giving in. Shaken, bawling incoherently and without realizing that he was doing it he instantly stood up again, but quickly quieted down when he looked down on his shiny armour and noticed there was a deep wound on his chest gushing red blood over his garments. He had been wounded. This can't be real, he thought, unable to decipher what had happened and dumbstruck. He raised his gaze just in time to see another horse emerging from the night and another flash if steel, but that was the last thing he ever saw, although the fuzzy image lingered in his mind for a good while still before all the life had drained away from his body.

The attack into the camp caused a temporary pandemonium among the goblins, but as they soon realized there were but two assailants, they rapidly picked up their courage. Promptly they arranged a surprisingly effective formation, gathering together to cover all sides, and begun laughing at the attackers in their hacking voices. Their leader had been hewn down, but for this group of brutes the loss was less than tremendous, rather a thing to revel in for many of them. And after all it seemed they had the upper hand and strength in numbers. Amashanae had halted her horse and dismounted a few dozen paces afar, and in the very last shreds of light still lingering on the horizon and the glare of campfires crackling around them the goblins watched her hold her blade in front of her and stare at the goblins with utmost hatred. The mixture of the almost black sky and the ambient color of the fires made her eyes seem ablaze with green gold. Juara appeared beside her with his horse, pulling in the reins and regarding the pack of goblins gathered together in an echelon more or less arranged with a worried eye, but did not dismount.

"So, ye just couldn't wait me, couldn't ye?", he asked resentfully, looking down at the elf. Amashanae gave him a look from under her eyebrows and said nothing. Sinister growls began echoing around the camp as the goblins begun to get the grasp of the situation, and the defensive formation of perhaps forty or so goblins broke and they begun to spread out in small groups, immediately attempting to surround the enemy. They still begun their approach carefully, keeping their distance at first, for they felt a certain insecurity among their lines. It was quite unheard of that only two fighters would attack a group this big, and even their simple brains suggested there might be reinforcements about. This might be a setup.

"I think I killed their leader already, at least assuming from the amount of junk he was carrying", Amashanae said. "That should slow them down for a bit"

"Oh, ye killed? I think he was still very much alive when I skewered him", Juara retorted, pretending to be annoyed. He finally jumped down and stepped next to Amashanae, and just as he did, the first – or the bravest – of the goblins initiated its attack.

"And besides", he yelled while he quickly jumped forth to meet the goblin before it had expected a contact and chopped its right hand off. The goblin's eyes begun to dilate with pain but Juara had already finished it with a cut across its throat and returned to Amashanae "They don't seem too slowed down to me!"

That was when all hell seemed to break loose and the goblins begun to charge at them from most all directions at once. Amashanae finally broke her pose and lifted her blade in defense when the first two goblins started their rush towards her. The first of the pair wielded a huge axe that it swung in a large arc towards her head as the other ran after it and seemed to point its sword at her feet. She calmly swung her torso back to avoid the axe and pressed her foot on its handle as it fell down in a curve and jumped up making a perfect somersault over the goblin's head while smashing its face with her sword. Then she was already falling back down and crouched almost on her knees and launched back up on a rebound, kicking the other goblin and breaking its jaw. The goblin staggered backwards and gave out a cry, dropping its weapon, and Amashanae brought the handle of her blade down, crushing its skull. There was already another one charging behind her, and she lifted the sword back up again over her shoulder and wheeled to the side, sinking the blade between its ribs with a crash right up to the collar. Instead of pulling it out again she just pushed the blade to the side using her momentum and her torso as leverage, ripping through the green flesh and getting sprinkled with black blood and whirled around just in time to face yet another goblin with its weapon poised to run her through. She barely avoided the blade as she dove down to the attacker's feet and rolled on her back, kicking the feet from under the goblin who fell forward, right onto the axe of its companion cutting down where Amashanae had been a split second before. She let her momentum take her forward and managed to get out of the way of the attackers for a fleeing moment and stood up again as the goblins retreated, unable to see their intended victim for the moment. A few paces away Juara had only two goblins attacking him just then, and as he dispatched them with mighty sweeps of his sword that left the other goblin headless and the other hewn clear in two from neck to groin, he looked at Amashanae in awe and wonder. How perfectly she moves. His dreaming was cut off before it began, when he sensed a spear whizzing in the air towards his head. He flipped his torso around and to the side, instinctively guiding the deadly projectile to the side with the side of his sword. Already his other hand arose to meet the attacker, and the spear-wielding goblin soon had its dead companion's battle axe buried deep in its grimy face with an audible crunch of bones crushing under the blade as it virtually split in half. Its momentum pushed Juara out of balance and he had to let go of the axe, stepping to the left and trying to regain his footing and failed. His knee buckled under the strain and he fell on the ground, his back up and unable to fend for himself for a second. Another goblin was on him at once, with a club swinging forward at Juara's head and a victorious cry already parting from its foul, gaping feeding-hole, but still Juara managed to fling himself to the side just enough so that the club buried itself in the broken soil with a cruel thud an inch from his face. Juara clenched his teeth, feeling a burning pain on his side and knee, but his body was pumping his blood full of the magic of battle, easing his pain and giving him extraordinary strength. He let his body fall on the ground on his good side and brought his legs up like lightning, pushing against the ground with his back and kicked the goblin to its fat stomach with mighty force. The creature was stopped on its tracks and when it tried to catch its breath, Amashanae's blade already penetrated its side and it fell like a log.

"Any chance that you need some help?", she asked casually.

"So, ye just had to come and ruin my kill?" Juara retorted and pushed himself up, thankful for a little pause in the fight. He felt his flank with his free hand and sighed, partially for pain, partially for the relief that it was not warm. There was no blood - at least not a lot - but a couple of his ribs had certainly been broken.

"I do not understand this...they have a weird strategy in that they are not attacking us all at once", Amashanae whispered to Juara and kept looking around her shoulders to see if there were any goblins attacking them right now. But the attack had subsided for now, the goblins regrouping and screaming curses at them in their foul language.

"Well, we must be lucky then, because there would be no change for us if they all attacked us at once", Juara said, trying to stare down a pack of goblins growling and grumbling about ten feet away, shaking their weapons. "I was thinking..." but suddenly changed the subject. "Damned! Asaryen is here – she has come after us. Why can not she understand the situation?" Juara cursed again and lifted his head, trying to see if the girl was somewhere to be seen.

"What! How would you know that?" Amashanae asked, astonished.

"Trahur"

She queried him no further. Of course the creature had told Juara. But it was not the right time to worry about that. What mattered right now was that they were not only surrounded by a pack of bloodthirsty goblins, but also Asaryen was coming towards them and into the hands of their enemies. They would need to look after her now as well as fight for their lives. And it was proving there might be more than enough trouble with that.

"We need to figure out some sort of a plan, soon!" she said and threw a glance to Juara, who kept an eye at the raging goblins.

"Start planning, then", he said in a very cool voice, without changing the direction of his glance, "Because they've just changed their tactics!"

A thirty-head horde of goblins attacked the duo with a terrifying roar and a clatter of their armour and weapons, with eyes bulging from the fervor and anticipation of the battle.

"Quick! Back against back!" Juara shouted his fighting plans to Amashanae. Standing back to back was a well-proven method for fighting two against more. It enabled both warriors to cover each other's backsides and minimize overlapping attacks. However, under these circumstances the odds seemed quite overwhelming, and Juara felt a cold chill burrow deep in his bones and stay there. There were so many of them, a veritable wall of green flesh and pure rage that seemed to fall upon them like a mossy brick wall. The first goblin reached them, and as they were charging as a tight group, it had no possibility to stop and avoid Juara's blade. Juara easily deflected the goblin's axe-like weapon and in a smooth movement let his sword penetrate its uncovered belly. The goblins came in such a tight bunch that it in fact also skewered the goblin behind the first as well.

"Ha! See that?", he shouted as he put all his weight behind his sword and waved it to the side, pulling the dying goblins on the sword with it, just in time to swing them in the way of the next axe swooshing toward his head from the left. The axe met with the head of the goblin on his sword and a thick splash of dark liquid flew over Juara's head as he kneeled and pulled the sword from the corpse, barely missing a swinging blade over his head from the right. Idiots, he thought to himself as the latest attack ended up in the teeth of the attacker on the left they're killing each other coming all at once. But Amashanae did not hear or see him, as she was quite busy herself. For some reason – perhaps the ancient blade she waved had seemed fearsome – the goblins had chosen to amass an even larger group to attack her. Or perhaps they wanted to exploit what they regarded the weakest link. Amashanae managed to block the first attack, and much like Juara, in the rush she managed to trip the goblin over and throw it against its companion, pushing its short sword in its side. The goblin let out a surprised cry before it learned what it feels like to have cold steel pushed through one's head. The next one falling over with its blade raised she had no time to retract the blade, so she extended her leg, kicking it sharply in the groin, and as it doubled over, dropping the blade, she ripped a nasty wound in its face with the cross-guard of her sword's hilt. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Juara catching two goblin axes simultaneously with the forte of his swords and pushing them back while kicking the other. But there were more and more goblins just inches away, ready to run them over. Right then she heard Asaryen yell.

"Amashanae!"

She turned her head for just a split second, but it was enough to let her guard down a little, and she received a mighty blow of a goblin club over her head. Luckily it did not come straight down as it would have certainly split her skull, and she did not quite lose her consciousness. However it was enough for her to lose her balance and her feet gave out under her and her sword slid from her grip. Between the legs of the goblins rushing toward her she saw as if through a haze how they grabbed Asaryen by a tree and slammed her down on the ground by her hands.

Juara was in deep trouble as well, and he knew it all too well. He lost his balance avoiding an axe falling over his head, and was pushed hard from the front before he could lift his sword. He fell in a wide arch, helpless to change his balance and hit the sand with an audible thump, with a goblin immediately over him and a dagger pushing towards his face. He dropped the useless sword and crossed his hands in a quick move, breaking the goblin's wrist and the dagger fell. But there was another one there too, and it did not even bother with weapons – it simply jumped over him and proceeded to strangle him, spewing incomprehensible curses and saliva from its stinkhole of a mouth. Juara tried to resist, but there was a goblin on top of his other hand and the wound in his side ate away all the strength from his other arm. He could only hit the goblin's face with it, but with not much strength. The goblin's eyes bulged with the glee of victory and Juara felt his energy drain. Is this how it ends? He felt his grip on life slip and prepared to meet his maker, already letting go, when he suddenly heard that something was growling – something other than a goblin. The goblin over him eased its grip a little as it stared at something behind Juara, and it had a blank, unbelieving expression on its face. The next thing Juara knew was that there were green goblin bodies thrown over his head in a shower of dark black blood and from out of nowhere blades smashed against the face of the goblin over him, ripping away flesh and bone in horrific gashes that basically evaporated its features, followed by a familiar-looking boot that kicked the body back five feet like a rag doll.

"By the god of two skies, what the..." Juara begun and then his gaze reached the end of the blades whizzing in the air. They ended in wrists – Amashanae's wrists. And then they were just hands again, dripping blood. He squeezed his eyes in disbelief. The goblins had ceased their attack, even taken some steps backward and just stood there, stricken with surprise. Juara managed to get up in a sitting position, his wound burning and his throat feeling like it had been crushed in a vice, but he hardly registered all these pains as he looked up at Amashanae standing legs wide, breathing heavily with her head down and hair on her face, hands curled into fists and hanging far from her body, like a pugilist standing in a boxing ring. And those blades jutting from her wrists aimed at the ground, black with goblin blood. Juara could hardly see her eyes between her wild hair, but her eyes blazed even through the veil, depicting a fury that caused a chill run through Juara's body. Suddenly he knew he would survive. Calm before a storm he had time to think, and then he sat watching as finally one of the goblins let a cry and assaulted Amanashae, leaping at her with a dagger and a mace in hand. Amashanae stepped forward to meet the attacker, faster than Juara could imagine, caught the goblin in midair with both her hands, backs of the hands together and thrust the her hands – or blades? – clear through the goblin's lower chest, for a split second holding it in the air over her. Then she brought her hands down to sides, ripping the goblin in half and spreading its innards over the bloodied sands. And after that she did not stop for a split second as Juara watched the scene.

It was a complete goblin massacre. All the goblins either turned on her, forgetting Juara and Asaryen, or fled cowering in panic, but it was all to no avail. Amashanae slaughtered goblins without pity like a skilled butcher gutting a fresh kill, letting blood and splitting bones with movements that looked more like a hurricane blowing than a flesh-and-blood creature moving on the battlefield. The goblins did not stand a chance. Juara slowly got up, as if in a dream, and regarded the scene in awe. This was not the Amashanae he knew. She was covered in blood and most of the goblins were already running to get away, but she kept ripping them open like sacks of waste and seemingly being everywhere at once, until the sands were caked with thick blood all around them.

Juara just looked, for very soon there were hardly any goblins left alive, and even all of those had been badly wounded and incapable. When the goblins had been dispatched, Amashanae approached him.

"Amashanae, are ye all right..." he had time to say, before he felt a magnificent kick in his jaw that nearly broke the bone, and he fell down like a chopped tree, eyes blazing with stars and flashing colors. And Amashanae was already on top of him, her hands on his throat, ready to rip his neck in shreds. He felt something hard around his skin, cutting the skin and forcing the air out of his windpipe. But right then there was a loud shriek, and Amashanae froze.

"Hey!" Asaryen screamed with a breaking voice that lacked no volume. "What are you doing?" she yelled, hands flailing helplessly. She almost punched Amashanae, whose gaze still had not left Juara's eyes, in the face. Time stood still for what seemed an eternity as Amashanae only stared a golden stare like a statue and Juara felt his consciousness fade away. Then Amashanae suddenly let go. Juara coughed and curled as Amashanae proceeded to finish off the rest of the goblins left alive. She did not seem to be content with simply killing them either, as she kept running her blades through their green bodies regardless of whether they were already dead. The smell of thick goblin blood on the sand mixed with the smell of guts and excrement as she moved through the field, slaughtering the already slaughtered as well as the wounded. She slashed across the dead and living faces, pulverizing the features of the goblins and cutting off heads in frenzy, until the ground was thick with blood and bits of flesh like the floor of a slaughterhouse. The others stared at her savage process with horror in their eyes.

"What...what is it with her?" Asaryen asked Juara, totally shaken and almost out of her mind from exhaustion and fear.

"I have no idea", Juara replied as she helped him get up once again. "But I think it's best if we just stand out of the way"

Once there were no more goblins to finish off, Amashanae began to calm down. She kept turning on her heels, shoulders down and ready like a tortured cheetah, breathing heavily like a dragon in labor. Then, all of a sudden, the fire in her eyes dwindled, and she fell down as if all her nerves had collapsed at once, and lay flat on the bloody ground, motionless as if dead. Asaryen ran to her at once and Juara limped after her, spitting blood and wheezing.

"Is she...", started Asaryen.

"No, she seems to be breathing"

"We should try and help her...but...she...tried to take your life! What was it?" Asaryen stared at Juara with a bewildered, puzzled and desperate expression on her pretty round face. Juara sighed and fell down on the ground, exhausted.

"It was not Amashanae" he said between heavy breaths.

"What do you mean?" Asaryen asked, now looking even more puzzled.

"Forget about it. We should carry her out of here" Juara said, taking a sip from a small vial he had produced from somewhere in his clothes. "Just let me catch my breath. This will help a little." He rubbed his neck and felt a few ragged cuts on the skin, but luckily not too deep. He managed to get up and with Asaryen they lifted up Amashanae's surprisingly light body, and they succeeded to get her up between them. Juara's face was contorted with pain as his wounds protested under the strain.

"But...what did happen?", Asaryen again asked. She tried to gaze upon the battlefield, but the darkness between the campfires already subsiding protected her from the horrid sight of mutilated goblin corpses.

"We shall find out later. Now we must be on our way. I can not stand this smell of death anymore", Juara said. They started towards the edge of the woods with Amashanae between them. "Get the horses and our gear. I'll hold her. We'll get her safe somewhere and I'll be back later to see if the goblins carried anything of value for us. Right now we must get to safety. Trahur, lead the way." At the edge of the forest a small creature slipped into the dark.

Obediently Asaryen walked to the horses, managed to get the reins and talked the panicked animals down until they seemed a little more relaxed. Then she walked them towards the woods, where Juara still stood with Amashanae on his arms. Asaryen looked at Juara, but saw no help for understanding what had happened in his tired eyes, and more on survival instinct than careful planning they fled into the dark woods.

CHAPTER 7

A group of elves rode along a narrow mountain road. Their horses gaited easily as they travelled one after another in line, led by Commander Taigren. They were a small group of four, all dignified warriors, and they were traveling towards the mountain of dragons. There was only a slight wind blowing over the mountains, and the elves had no problem to keep their balance although the road was precarious. There were sharp turns and sudden inclines, and there was always a threat of falling stones and loose gravel giving in under their feet. They had travelled for a good while without speaking, as is often the habit among the elves. But if there had been someone observing the crew, it would have seemed clear that one of them seemed to be a bit insecure of the purpose of their journey. He kept casting sidelong glances at the others and seemed generally dissatisfied. And finally he broke the silence.

"So these dragons...are they dangerous? Are we going to be safe?"

In front of the queue Taigren grinned a bit to himself. He paused for a moment to allow the grin fade before he pulled on the reins and turned around in the saddle to address his fellow traveler.

"Geriner... I know you are inexperienced, but you may keep your calm. Did I not assure you and your father that your soul shall be kept in safety? Yes – which I did. And you should not question the word of a commander. You best remember that" he said in very assertive tone. "It is the time for you to see what these mountains hide from most peoples. We the elves are among the few who still have dealings with this ancient race. The dragons are our friends in their own way. Yes, they are very dangerous and sometimes unfathomable, but we shall be safe as long we abide them and adhere to our agreement about always approaching them unarmed". With that he turned and signaled his horse to continue. "If I am not mistaken we are just about there!" And indeed, right behind the next turn the road suddenly widened into a large clearing and on the other side there was a sizeable opening in the side of the mountain, right in front of them. An entrance to a huge cave, it seemed. Taigren sniffed the air and closed his eyes for a second before he turned and spoke again: "Geriner, Lelathi, and Arenof, I may repeat myself, but I desire no conflict with the dragons. We have been asked to arrive here, so we shall act as visitors should. We must relinquish our weapons – all weapons – when asked, and remember not to speak unless I give the word. I have visited here hundreds of times, so they know me. Also Lelathi and Arenof, you are already used to the company of dragons, but you, Geriner...well, rest assured there is no need to fear. We are safe, especially now as we share an enemy with them"

"You mean the beast, the demon..." Geriner said.

"Yes. Now step down and leave your horses. They will wait for us here", Taigren said and dismounted his horse. The rest of the elves followed suit and they walked into the cave. Almost the very moment they entered the shadows of the cave, a row of torches burst into flames on the wall, revealing a dragon standing in front of them; its scales and teeth gleamed in the light of the torches and its piercing eyes regarded them with a reptilian stare that could bring chills to most any mortal's spine. Geriner flinched and took a couple of steps to the side. The dragon eyed them with fuming nostrils and grinned even wider.

"Tam" Taigren smiled. "I know you sense that we have an inexperienced one with us, but I already told him he does not need to fear that mangy old gatekeeper lizard."

The dragon opened its eyes wide and appeared very insulted, raising its wingtips a little and inhaled as if ready to scorch them with its fiery breath. The three elves behind Taigren cowered, but suddenly the dragon burst into laughter. Tam and Taigren had been good friends since before they could even remember. They had always lived close to each other, and despite the vast differences in their species, there had always been a certain sense of belonging...to a same era, to the same destiny, as the tales and stories had always told.

"Taigren, you are almost as old as I, if I remember correctly. Where did you leave your cane?" the dragon roared with laughter. "It is nice to see you, though. Like to talk more, but they await you in the large hall...so please, leave your weapons here and venture forth", Tam said and could not resist grinning wide at Geriner, who did not knew what to do facing the huge row of Tam's teeth at close proximity. Tam laughed again, in the manner dragons do, and the sound alone would have been enough to send a weaker fellow running for cover.

"Do not tease him, Tam. Do not you have a bone or something to gnaw at?" Taigren scolded the dragon and then turned to the rest of the elves. "You heard what the dragon said" he said, and laid his longbow, quiver and sword to small table obviously meant for the purpose. Lelathi and Arenof followed his example while Geriner still hesitated.

"But... my sword, my father gave it to me and he said never..." he started but cut it short as he saw how Taigren began to raise an eyebrow, and promptly placed his sword on the table. When they were ready Taigren nodded at Tam.

"Ready? Follow me then" the dragon grunted and waved his wings towards the large doors behind him, which opened slowly as they walked towards them.

"Now remember what I said before" Taigren instructed the others. "Not a single word unless I say so." He was just stepping through the doors as he remembered something: "Oh yes, one more thing. Do not touch any treasure you might see. Seriously."

The other three nodded with compliance and they stepped through the doors. The hall opening wide behind the doors was very spacious. And if Tam had been enough to scare Geriner alone, now he was forced to witness a sight few mortals had laid eyes on. There were no less than thirteen dragons in the hall, and the air inside seemed to pulsate and throb to the rhythm of their breathing. Their scales glittered in the sparse light available and their teeth gleamed in the shadows like swords drawn out. Many of them were much bigger than the gatekeeper they had first met, and several of them carried scars made by creatures the elves could only guess what they could have been. There were piles of gold and diamonds, all kinds of treasure on their feet, and it seemed almost like the dragons were bathing in riches. In the middle of the room there was a huge dragon whose scales had a particularly deep lilac tint to them, and besides sheer size it clearly was a head above the others in the room: an ancient horror that had eyes like golden pools washed in black clouds. As they approached warily, it lowered its head to meet them and spread out its wings, which seemed to send a gust of wind all across the cavern. Taigren stopped, nodding at Tam, who slid back to the antechamber and closed the doors behind.

"The big one is the leader" he whispered to the others. "Now wait here, do not move, stay silent" he whispered and then walked into the ring of dragons. The dragons eyed him with interest as he walked past them, straight to the leader in the middle. It bowed its immense head even lower until Taigren felt its scorching hot breath so strong he could hardly stand up straight. The dragon turned its head to turn its huge disc of eye closer to the elf, who was relieved to get out of the steam pouring from its nostrils. He put his palms together and bowed with respect.

"Galtrone" he spoke in a voice that showed respect, and the dragon nodded its head in acknowledgement.

"Taigren..." the dragon growled, recognizing the elf, and its grandiose voice echoed and roared in the hall as all the other dragons just watched in silence. "Galtrone is pleased you honored the invitation. Stand on this so I need not lie down when I speak the thee" it said, pushing a large chest filled with riches towards Taigren, and the elf promptly climbed atop the case and looked at the fearsome creature.

"I believe you invited us to talk about the beast", the elf began with a bow.

Galtrone's eyes flickered.

"Yes, the beast, Firnaraee. You elves are wise. You see things better than humans. Yes. We all know that the world destroyer has been awoken. But the humans...will live happily until they perish, yes. But this is not arbitration, no. I ask you to come, to hear."

"I do not understand, to hear what? I assumed that we would speak about what we ought to do with the beast" Taigren said, puzzled.

"But you assume wrong, yes...we the dragons are going to do nothing, no. We are leaving...." Galtrone spoke in the manner dragons tend to do, drawing out words in long reptilian sighs between pieces of sentences. "The dragons...decided to leave this world, yes. This world...will die"

"What!" Taigren shouted and raised his hands in disbelief. "Your intention is to leave? But why? We have to fight it, not flee!"

"Ah, you are brave and foolish enough to make a stand to the beast. I knew that, yes" it hissed in a low voice. "But this is not wise. There is no chance to win. Not for the elf, no. Not for the dragons, no. Not without Bathalá", Galtrone pronounced the last word with reverence and lifted his head up towards the ceiling, and the rest of the congregation of dragons hissed and murmured in agreement. Taigren started to become nervous, not believing what he was hearing.

"But...but...you just cannot leave all this without a fight" he exclaimed, opening his palm to Galtrone. The dragon watched him from high above and then spoke:

"Yes, the dragons will. We know there will be no chance and it is better to leave than die", it said, irritation creeping into its voice.

"But...this can not be..." Taigren tried again but Galtrone had had enough. "Silence!" it roared and more fumes arose from its nostrils. Its shadow grew larger and it seemed to fill the entire hall as it flexed its wings. The three elves at the door looked at each other, shaken. Galtrone seemed to consider something for a second before he spoke again. "No one contests me here, no! I, Galtrone, honor our harmony. I, Galtrone asked you to come that I could tell you this, yes. And no one shall know about what became of the dragons, but the elves" Taigren lowered his head.

"I apologize"

"No need. Galtrone have an offer for the elves, yes", the dragon said, suddenly calm again. "We invite you to join us. To leave this world, yes"

"What!" Taigren shouted. "No! The elves..." but just then there was a crack to be heard from by the doors. Thirteen dragon heads and Taigren's turned to the doors. It was Geriner - he had dropped his helmet. His face was pale and Lelathi and Arenof stared at him accusingly. In a swift moment Galtrone took onto its wings and very easily flung itself to the elves at the door. Taigren nearly fell under the gust of the mighty wind as the creature swept over him. The dragon touched down in front of the elves, as pale as the moon at the sudden approach of the monster, reeling under its fiery breath and feeling the ground shake as its tail landed on the cavern floor.

"And who is this?" The dragon asked. "Who is the one interrupting Galtrone?"

Geriner fainted before it got an answer, dropping down on the stone like an empty sack, and even though Lelathi and Arenof were already somewhat used to the company of dragons, they also felt their knees buckle. Taigren laid down his gaze in shame. Galtrone guffawed.

"Warriors you have here. These will fight against Firnaraee, hah. You have a change, yes? No!" It turned back to Taigren and hissed a warning in a low voice. "You shall all lie dead if you do not follow the dragons. How is it going to be, Taigren?"

"No", the elf commander said. "The elves will not give up. We will fight!"

"Very well", the dragon said, nodding with respect, but perhaps a slight disappointment in its voice. "There are not many peoples left from our era. A shame it is. But Galtrone admires a friend's decision. Now you shall leave...please" it added the compliment to stress the fact he honored Taigren's decision. It made its way back to its place in the middle. The elf commander sighed and stepped off the pedestal as the dragons silently watched, and walked to meet his comrades with a heavy heart. "Lelathi and Arenof...carry him out" he pointed at Geriner and pushed the large doors open for them to pass. He walked to the antechamber where Tam was waiting for them. "Did you..." the elf said as he walked towards the yellowish dragon.

"Yes" Tam answered with a heavy voice. "I knew. I will miss you my dear friend Taigren" and lowered its head. Even the sight of the fainted elf being carried by his fellows did not amuse the dragon any more.

"There is little chance, is there?" Taigren asked.

"No" the dragon answered quickly, but added after a second's pause. "Well, you can always try to find Bathalá...but it is just a tale. Old gods do not exist anymore. The dragons shall leave eventually, once we are ready. There is no other way" Tam heaved. "The rest of your life... I hope you do it well" the dragon said, closing the doors behind it.

"I hope so too" Taigren whispered. Now he feared there would indeed be no hope. If the dragons did not even believe their own god existed, how would he even try to find it? He sighed and turned for others. "Lift that poor one on to his horse. We shall go without further delay since there is nothing to do here anymore. The elders would not be delighted about this" and watched as his companions walked out of the cave. Then he turned to face the dragon again, as something crossed his mind.

"Tam...Firnarae...is an old god, no?" and with that he followed the others, leaving the dragon in the dark, considering his final remark.

*****

Asaryen watched over Amashanae while she slept. She sat on a sturdy log of tree that Juara had dragged in from the woods, beside a fire he had lit. The flames warmed them soothingly and kept the darkness and the cold of the night at bay. They had made their way into the woods a good distance, and then, finding a suitable clearing, set up a camp. Although Asaryen had been of little help, except for watching over Amashanae as she slept, Juara had managed to get everything sorted despite the throbbing pain in his side. The horses were hitched to a tree a few paces off. Asaryen sat there beside the sleeping elf, trying to comprehend what had actually happened. But try as she might, she could not understand why Amashanae had acted like she had. The dark woods looming over them added to her fear and confusion. Juara was nowhere to be seen, for had left them alone in order to find more firewood. She had stared at the darkness already for hours, and Trahur was nowhere to be seen either. She desperately hoped for Amashanae to wake up and be the strong friend she wanted her to be, but Juara had made her promise not to bother the elf. Eager for her to wake her up, she bent over her still body, looking for clues that she might be waking up, when a rustle of leaves startled her and send chills down her spine.

"I told ye to let her sleep", Juara said as he stepped into the clearing from between the bushes surrounding the opening in the trees, and into the circle of the light of the fire.

"I didn't..." started Asaryen, but the words died on her lips as she realized she had indeed been reaching over her. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, worry ye not", Juara said with a kind voice and sat down on the log beside Asaryen after he laid down the wood he had been carrying.

"She seems so peaceful. What do you make of what happened back there", the girl asked Juara with worry in her eyes and voice.

"I am not quite sure", the man said, looking at the elf. "But I am sure she will enlighten us once she wakes up." He carefully rubbed his aching chin, let out a sigh and grimaced as he felt the broken ribs move slightly. He glanced at Asaryen, meaning to say something about the fight, but his eyes got lost in her eyes, in the moment that originated from her large eyes staring at him in the warm light of the fire. They stared at each other's eyes, lost in the moment.

"You're hurt" Asaryen said in a low voice and reached out her hand towards Juara.

"I..." Juara began to say, "I, er, Asaryen, ye have very beutif...", but he never got to finish the sentence as Amashanae suddenly let out a hoarse cry as waking up from a nightmare. Asaryen also let out a cry and grabbed Juara's arm tightly.

"Where am I? Where be my sword!" the elf shouted, eyes wide and wild.

"Relax", Juara said, rushing next to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Take it easy, elf, yer sword is safe."

Asaryen touched Amashanae gently. They both soothed the bewildered, dizzy elf reassuringly, until Asaryen broke the silence.

"What... happened?"

Amashanae stared back at her, not saying anything. Asaryen tilted her head, put her hand on elf's cheek and asked again: "What were you thinking? You almost kill...", but she never finished as Juara cut in.

"Amashanae", he said, grabbing the elf's shoulders and pushing Asaryen to side, forcing Amashanae to look in his eyes. "You basically lost your mind back there. What was it?"

Asaryen gave Juara an angry look, but said nothing, and finally Amashanae spoke.

"I... I... I do not know... I am sorry." The elf sighed and looked like she was about to burst in tears. "I am sorry", she again whispered. Then she asked in a small and scared voice: "The goblins? Did we...beat them?"

"Yes, that indeed we did", Juara said and stood up. He looked down at Amashanae with a look that could only be described as unfathomable and repeated: "Indeed we did"

Amashanae looked up at the man, her eyes pained and understanding that the man meant more than just the words he had uttered.

"You... you are alright?" she asked, afraid of what she might hear.

Two pairs of eyes gazed at her in silence. Juara lifted his hand on his throat but said nothing.

"I did it again", she whispered in an almost inaudible voice, at the same time realizing how badly her wrists ached. She rubbed her tender arms and looked at Asaryen with large eyes.

"I did it again."

"What is it that you did?" the girl asked, even more puzzled and with a tingling of cold fear in her spine, but Amashanae spoke no more and averted her gaze. Juara stepped back and sat down, waving Asaryen to sit down beside him. He gazed at the elf over the flames as Asaryen got up and sat down next to him.

"How did I..." Amashanae asked finally, getting herself up, still rubbing her arms.

"I carried ye here", Juara explained. He paused for a while, and then continued: "I think we must talk. If you are up to it?"

Amashanae sighed deeply, nodding her head in acceptance. It was time. She sat down beside them and began to tell her tale without further delay, starting from the very beginning. She explained how she had woken up in the woods, not knowing or understanding anything. She told her how she had drifted for days, looking for something, anything, to get her bearings straight. She told how she had studied herself for weeks on end and realized she must be a well-trained fighter. She had the sword...and it was almost like she had been born with it. She had run into trouble with men especially (at which Juara coughed) and she had quickly learned to hide her obviously outstanding features – and the ornate blade she carried – with a hood. She explained about how she kept losing track of time and had blackouts during which she had no idea about what she did, and how she kept waking up in strange places, not knowing how she had gotten there. She spoke of how she did not know why she was apparently deeply hated in many a place (at which Asaryen lifted her eyebrows and glanced at her blood-soaked clothing), and how she had failed to find anybody else even slightly like herself. But she had seen dreams, vivid, colorful dreams, and from those dreams she had gathered tiny puzzles of what and who she was. She knew two names; Hashalia, who she believed to be her sister, and Tahlthar, which was just a name she could not place anywhere. She mentioned neither the voice nor the fact that she knew much more about herself than she cared to show. Act strong and show no remorse or weakness. Finding Tahlthar was what mattered the most to her right now. She needed answers. When she spoke of Tahlthar she stared intently at Juara, who looked as if he had a piece of meat stuck in his throat when he heard the name. Nevertheless she continued, and with a lower voice she explained what she knew about her fighting in desperate situations, and echoes of battle she sometimes saw in the back of her mind but could not quite place at all. All the while Asaryen and Juara listened intently and Asaryen almost burst into tears several times, holding a hand over her mouth, and Juara's expressions ranging from intense interest to extreme worry. But they did not interrupt her once, and after she had finished pouring out her story, neither uttered a word for a long while. Juara stoked the fire with a mysterious expression and Asaryen looked at Amashanae with tears in her eyes. Then she got up and hugged Amashanae, holding her tight, but this only made the elf even more shaken.

"Oh what must you have been through", Asaryen sighed with tears welling down her cheeks.

Amashanae, who fought to gain control of herself once again, pushed her back.

"I will survive"

"Amashanae...you do understand that you can trust me?" Asaryen asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Amashanae looked at Asaryen, then Juara, who looked back at her with an expecting expression. She felt a cold calculation entering her mind, the weak moment subsiding and fading in her mind. She wanted to be their friend and wrestled with her thoughts. Could the man be trusted...or even her? Juara waited for her answer, clearly somewhat nervous, rubbing her hands. She did not know what he wanted from her. Amashanae was a lone traveler, or at least she had been. This she knew. And now she had revealed more than she had ever revealed to anybody else for as long as she could remember. She felt a terrible coldness inside her grow and her hand rose up to touch the amulet on her breast. She fixed her posture, suddenly a strong warrior once again.

"Do not expect me to call you a friend after a few days together", she finally said, looking at Juara directly in the eye. And with that, it was as if a cold blanket had been thrown over them. "However, I shall not be asking you to leave no more", she continued, forcing an expression that might be translated as a smile, as if trying to be thinking positively. That lifted the sudden coldness a little, and Asaryen let out a relieved breath. Juara stared at Amashanae for a moment, then nodded in acceptance and sat down in a more relaxed pose. Asaryen huddled a little closer to the man, as it was cold in the night, and he put his hand over her shoulders. They sat motionless for a good while, watching the flames eat the wood, none of them feeling the slightest need for sleeping even though they were all physically exhausted.

"How many goblins did I kill?" Amashanae broke the silence.

There was another long moment of silence.

"Enough. Quite enough", Juara finally said, tossing some more twigs into the fire. Amashanae well understood what he meant. She sighed deeply and realized she did feel very relieved that her traveling companions were well. Companions, not friends, she made a mental note. Yet there was a part of her that desperately longed for a chance to call them friends. She remembered little of the battle. They had been almost overrun, and then she had just slipped into a void. What was the matter with her? Why is this happening to me? She felt very tired.

Then Juara spoke again.

"Amashanae...there are many things about yer story that I cannot help ye with", he got her attention. "But I do know why have not ye found any others of yer elven kin". Amashanae's eyes widened. She got up and came to sit next to the man, and when doing that she almost stumbled, every muscle in her body still aching from the battle. But that mattered little, as there was a chance to learn something about her past - and perhaps future.

"See, as it happens, there are very few and rare elves in these parts of Brodérunn...or any parts for a very long distance from here. It is in this land that there is a certain palace, ruled by an ancient cult...and lead by a sorceress who hates elves more than anything else. Those elves that have not fled to faraway countries and unknown kingdoms she has slain. I cannot claim to know why is it she hates elves so greatly, but I do know that her name Elvenkiller is well earned in blood of yer kin. Indeed it surprises me how separated a life ye must have led in recent times, as this is a story always told and discussed in almost every tavern and every town in Brodérunn...and the cult is feared to a great extent."

"A-are we safe here", Asaryen interrupted Juara with a trembling voice, looking around her into the dark forest. "Who knows what terrors this forest hides from our eyes?"

"Ah, worry not", Juara gave the girl a warm look and put his hand on her thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "That palace is hundreds of lengths from here. I do believe we are entirely safe here. The goblins we encountered today were an unfortunate and certainly rare occasion in these parts." He turned his face back to Amashanae. "Once we reach the city of Kiarra and travel north from there, ye shall meet other elves I am sure. Perhaps they will be able to tell ye more about yer past"

Amashanae's eyes gleamed like those of a small child. Finally she had heard clues about her past! Finally a thin thread of hope! Finally something that might help her find out about her past. Before she knew it, warm feelings took over her again.

"Thank you, Juara", she slid down from the log and knelt before the man. He was surprised and stoop up a little more, almost wary. "Thank you. As we enter Kiarra and find Tahlthar..." she paused, looking down at the ground, not seeing how Juara swallowed and trembled a little. "...if we find it....perhaps I can after all call you a friend!"

For a second all three just stayed put, motionless, until Asaryen suddenly darted up and brought her hands together with a slap.

"And now we'll eat! I could eat a horse!" she exclaimed.

"Hold on", Amashanae said, remembering that she had feed her horse and vanished into the darkness.

"Why didn't you tell her she intended to kill you?" Asaryen asked Juara while digging out rations from their bags.

"Shh. She has elven ears. I do not believe it would do her any good. There is something wrong with her" he said as quietly as he could, almost into her ear. "I do not mean to say this in anger or hate, but at the battle...she did not control herself at the battle."

"Possessed?" asked Asaryen with widening eyes and a glance towards the horses...

"Please Asaryen, quiet...and speak not of it to her. Please."

Asaryen nodded her head, eyes still open.

"It is not an evil spirit or anything I am sure. But we must take care not to let that happen again. I do not think Amashanae would ever hurt us, but I can not be too sure about the...other."

"But what is...the other..." Asaryen asked, still puzzled, but had to quiet down as she saw Amashanae returning to the fire.

"Ah, you have the food already. Good, my stomach is screaming for it" she sat on the ground on the other side of the fire, catching a large piece of dried meat Juara tossed at her. And so the travelers ate and drank, with a sweet tiredness slowly taking over them, until they finally fell into sleep by the fire in the small hours of the night. The battle was finally out of their minds – or pushed out – and now was a time to rest.

*****

Raelia bustled in her chambers, arranging for a spell of seeing. Her brain was decocing Decamod's hints at an accelerated rate. She had been studying spells, going through her inventory of materials and books, when suddenly it just had appeared in her mind. The waving plain. Yes, she indeed had such a plain that had waves – not waving as in motioning, but as in waves. Simply the problem of understading the stream of consciousness of the Decamod had kept her from understanding what it must mean right away. It was after all a common magic item, a vat of vision, which she often used to gain information and spy on her troops in distant realms. It was a simple vat, filled with water, but with certain spells it would show strange worlds and realms, and, depending upon the skills of its user, even underworlds and lost dimensions – mysteries of the deep that few dared to even think about. It has got to be that, she thought again and quickly collected all the things she would need to operate it. Now the only thing she needed was something to begin the search with. A place, an assumption of location...something.

"Ntu'vhis." She waved her hands above the water and instantly it started to ripple. Intensively she gazed directly into the water's depths, for it appeared not a shallow vat anymore but a bottomless well where vague images already started to appear under the vibrant 'plain' and she could not help but laugh out of glee for understanding the Decamod. She began her search. In rapid succession images changed into others and then yet new ones in the vat as she stared, but even after hours of trying she knew nothing new at all about Firnaraee. But in this kind of matters it was of no use to get nervous.

Strutto, the lousy captain, he had been right in one thing after all, even if all the other things in his miserable existence had not gone so well. Raelia had given him the magical stone, yes, for finding the grave, but it was also for spying on him. As a matter of fact, every single troop leader in Raelia's army had one such stone, even if they had little clue about the actual use of them. And now, since she had not succeeded in finding anything by herself, Raelia put the beacons to use, going through her troops everywhere. Although the grave had been found and opened as well, thanks to those idiotic orcs, perhaps some servant had indeed stumbled over something significant and failed to report about it. Images of her troops all over the Brodérunn appeared and vanished in rapid cycles under the magical surface. There were images of bandits getting drunk, images of her knights in their adventures, images of orcs ransacking and raping a village. There were images of demons searching for elves to kill, images of monsters from the deep darkness, mutilated by creatures from even deeper in the whirlpool of fiery destiny. And then she came across a certain image that caught her eye for a while. It was Strutto and his army – or what was left of it. There was not a single goblin left whole. There were severed limbs and heads lying everywhere, scattered weapons laying on the soil having been useless against the unseen enemy, smashed bodies and arms all covered in dirt and blood and their own intestines and swarms of flies and a few wild beasts feeding on the carrion, feasting on the dead flesh already beginning to rot away. The scene or carnage in itself did little to move Raelia, for whom the horrible sight was like watching kittens playing. She had seen underworld demons and all kinds of terrors from different dimensions, and if such a sight could have moved her cold heart at all, she would have felt boredom at best. But it was an insult towards her person to dare and slaughter a troop of hers like that, and that angered her. For a good while she kept looking at the massacre, looking for clues on what kind of an army might be responsible, and then she became aware of Decamod beckoning her thoughts. Perhaps there was something in this particular image that needed to be studied. Perhaps the demise of his idiotic captain would turn into a success after all.

"Firnaraee" Raelia uttered softly.

The water in the vat surged a little. Raelia's eyes dilated and her mouth turned into a catlike smile. She had found a clue. In that place, that battlefield there would be something she could use against Firnaraee. Something - or someone - had been an instrument of destruction for Strutto and his troop, and she was going to find out what. Looming over the vat of vision she began to examine the ground around the corpses in more detail. Her smile widened, baring her teeth. Soon she would find what she needed to find

*****

In the dark cavern, deep in the mountains, Firnaraee screamed at its captor. Something invisible kept it from escaping the cave. Again and again it had tried in vain to break free – for now at least. Yet there were plenty of Orc corpses to feed on. Firnaraee was not stupid and it was well aware of something powerful holding it back now that it had not yet gained back its full strength. It might take days or years, but such a wait was nothing for it after being imprisoned for a millennium and having existed nearly since the beginning of time. Whatever time it took, it would be soon enough that it would feed on destruction and grow immense again. It would never succumb to anything anymore – never.

It already managed to hold a material form for fleeing moments; not long enough to break free of the barrier, but long enough to transcend it for a second or two. It meant a quick death to a passing mountain goat, or any other creature treading the slopes in the vicinity. And it had also drawn in much information of the outside world. The world had changed since it had breathed air the last time. Firnaraee stood and sucked in thoughts, feelings...smells and emotions like invisible particles caught in the winds caressing the mountains. So it stood and learned about the world it was again about to enter. The wheel had moved. There would be much to destroy, and it felt good.

CHAPTER 8

The forest canopy arched over them when they walked on a path through the Perenrod forest. The ground was dry and scattered with cones and twigs fallen from the trees. It seemed this path was not the busiest one, but nevertheless many a foot had trodden on the dry forest bed and there was no fear of losing the way. The morning had begun quietly, and the battle-weary companions had barely spoken as they had gathered their few items and bags of rations, fed and saddled their horses in the chilly morning air. Juara had been the first to mount his horse and point towards an opening in the woods, suggesting they follow a path visible there. Amashanae, however, had wanted to go back to the battlefield to find out what had actually happened during her blackout. Juara and Asaryen had managed to talk her out of the idea on the grounds of their haste to gain some ground between them and the site of the battle - in case of another troop of goblins roamed the area and perhaps already forming a party to track them down. They had had a rather heated exchange of words over that and after that everyone just kept quiet, even Asaryen for a change. They had rode for perhaps fifteen lengths, but the path had only led them ever deeper into the dense woods until it had became necessary to move on by foot, walking their horses by the reins. The atmosphere was quite strained after a night filled with revelations and the argument at dawn, and nobody felt too physically fit either. Juara's ribs and face ached badly, but he hoped that the ribs had not after all been broken, just hurt. His chin was now black and blue and his arms ached from wielding the blade. Amashanae also felt a deep tiredness in her hands. Notwithstanding their injuries and weariness, both Juara and Amashanae still had their instincts well peaked, as any good warrior should have, and despite they perhaps looked like they were well licked, they certainly kept very alert. One could never be sure what – or who – might they be moving towards in these ancient, deep woods. They were not safe now, as they still feared the goblins they had slain might have been merely a part of a bigger army, and the rest of that army might well be on their tail by now. Their progress had been relatively easy this far, albeit the thick foliage that had now forced them to move on foot. The path still kept leading them forward, and they fully expected the terrain to become easier to travel any moment now. But as hours went on and their pace thus slowed, Asaryen finally decided to break the silence.

"Why did we have to fight and then kill all those goblins back there?"

Both the warriors were startled by this sudden naïve exclamation, but in a way they were both glad the silence had finally been broken.

"Ha, the girl is talking matters of honor, of course she would", Juara said in a voice that was half amused, half serious. Asaryen gave him a look under her brow, as if having been insulted.

"Goblins are our enemies. If we had not killed the lot, then someone else would have done it if they could" Amashanae cut to the chase, ignoring Juara's attempt at a more conversational approach. Baby girl needs convincing.

"But they never did anything to us", Asaryen argued, turning her attention to Amashane, and pulling her horse closer to get to Amashanae's side, but the path was too narrow to walk side by side. Amashane did not answer, just kept moving forward.

"No, ye are right they did not, because we did it to them first", Juara laughed.

Amashanae still did not speak, but to herself she pondered if the girl had a point. Perhaps they could have escaped the situation without a battle. Perhaps an orc's life also has a value. Perhaps they should have been left to live. But it was something a warrior does not question, even if the said warrior did not even really know why she felt the goblins were enemies.

"I mean, I am sure the goblins also have families. Does it not bother you at all?" Asaryen tried once again, as if reading Amashanae's mind.

"Be quiet. You are not a soldier. You cannot understand" Amashanae snapped over her shoulder and gave Amashanae such a poisonous stare that she swallowed her next words obediently. Instead of further educating the girl Amashanae turned towards Juara:

"Why did your little friend give no warning, by the way?" she asked with biting accusation in her voice, but Juara was not to be drawn into a play of words.

"I keep Trahur not in chains" he said with a note of finality in his voice: "Sometimes it may be gone for weeks, sometimes for days. Comes and goes as pleases. I do not know what it does or where it goes to, and it is none of my concern either. I accept the help when it is available and I do not question its goings." The response left Amashanae with little to go on, and onward they continued, again falling in silence.

The night was quickly approaching, and the party had finally gotten out of the thickest woods and located another nice clearing with some large rocks onto one side. A small stream could be heard some ways off to the forest, so water would also be available. There was also a ready-made campsite here: no fire had been burned there for several days or even weeks, but there was a ring of logs arranged around a fireplace and some debris like bits of bones and wood left by some previous travelers. They tied the horses to some trees and brushed them properly; giving them food and plenty of water to drink. Juara began to gather wood for the fire while Asaryen took their water skins and went in search of the stream. Amashanae began sorting through their rations in the bags. There was not very much left – they would need to find a village or think about hunting to avoid starving. All of a sudden there was a high-pitched shriek coming from the woods where Asaryen had vanished into:

"Aahh – Ju-Juara! Amashanae!"

Amashanae leapt up, finding her blade in her hands and darted towards the sound, all senses flaring, and Juara appeared beside her, lifting her finger to signal for quiet and motioned for her to flank from the left as he slipped into the woods on the right. Hearts pumping they sped through the trees and before long they glimpsed the stream and Asaryen's cloak between the trees. Almost simultaneously they emerged to the waterline, sword held high, and let out a battle cry. But there was not another living soul besides Asaryen, who let out an even bigger shriek of terror seeing them suddenly appear from nowhere, and stumbled back and over a dead body lying on the waterline. Screaming now even louder she frantically tried to push herself up and away from the rotting body, until Juara picked her up and pulled her close.

"Easy, girl, it is but a dead body...nothing dangerous...easy now." Amashanae stepped into the water and examined the body while Asaryen sobbed.

"Looks like he has been here for at least a week, there's barely any flesh left on him and he is well rotting away. Better get the water upstream from here" she said, collecting the water skins and walked a few dozen paces upstream before she began filling them up.

"Yes, he was probably a poor traveler, just like us" Juara said, still holding Asaryen. Then a thought entered his mind and he suddenly let go of the girl, who almost dropped on the ground.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, but Juara was already at the body, ripping open the rucksack the dead man had had strapped to his back.

"Damnation! See what he was carrying! Who knew? This be the finest drink this side of Brodérunn. Tonight we shall sleep well with the spirits of drink!" he shouted out loud to the astonished women.

"What, are you of the kind who spit in the glass?" he asked with a slightly hurt expression on his face and hugging a large bottle in his hands, when the others did not reply but just stared. "Why I can certainly consume this meself if ye like it not" and with that he stepped out of the water and walked back through the woods towards the campsite. Asaryen looked at Amashanae, now laughing.

"Hah, I would not have guessed our mighty warrior so partial to drink!"

"Well you have not seen him under different circumstances" said Amashanae with a grave expression on her face. She did well remember a certain night at an inn.

"Come on, let us drag the poor fellow out of the water and then head back to camp."

It took Juara an hour to empty the bottle while they ate and discussed their plans for tomorrow, but the drink began to show in Juara's demeanor quite quickly. He kept sitting closer and closer to Asaryen and eyed Amashanae's figure with a little too much interest, and then he suddenly leapt up and bowed to the women as if to an audience.

"And now, my fair maidens, I shall perform ye a tragic story in a form of a song. It is called A Warrior's Glory, and it is a song our kind knows well in every part of the land." He held a pause, a grave look on his face, closed his eyes and stood up like a statue. Asaryen leaned forward in anticipation, gazing at the admittedly ruggedly handsome warrior. After what seemed a long while of low evening wind rustling in the wind he finally began to sing in a low but powerful voice, if a bit unstable from drink:

" _I must leave you my kin and be ever longing_

For the fear it is rising from afar

I embark on dark journeys and go to war now

I shall fight for my gods and for my lands

Let the hell be unleashed and the hordes of evil

I will slay down my enemies and never falter

Should I fall down just let me sleep

And become of earth, soil

From my heart a strong oak will arise"

"Wonderful!" Asaryen screamed even before Juara had finished, and he beamed at her like a king to his underlings. Amashanae merely turned her back and added casually:

"I have heard better"

Juara's smile faltered and he recoiled a little, but regained his posture.

"Let me guess, our elven princess would prefer a love song."

"Oh! That would be great! Please Juara!" exclaimed Asaryen, but Juara paid no attention to her, the drink still hot in his veins.

"What about ye, warrior, it is clear that ye care not for the arts of voice, but seem proud to carry such warrior tattoos. Care to explain what they signify to the rest of us?" and with that he seized Amashanae's arm and stared at the tattoos that adorned her amber skin.

"Let it be; it's the drink in you that makes you boast and prance. I have no idea if these tattoos mean anything, and you know that."

"Juara..." Asaryen said. "You're scaring me."

Juara turned on his heels.

"And what about ye, what may ye be, my fair little peasant girl, I have heard little of yer origin..." but he did not make it any further as Asaryen's hand smashed across his cheek, sending red-hot spikes of pain on the already smashed lips. He stumbled backward, stunned, eyes widening, but the sight of the two women staring him down and the burning sensation on his cheek sobered his head.

"I am sorry", he said, sitting down on the log. "I did not mean to be too nasty."

Amashanae sat down as well, and motioned Asaryen to sit down too.

"Say, that is something I would also like to know. How exactly did you end up in the desert back there?"

"I was running away..." Asaryen started, looked down at her feet, and then gathered her courage and began to tell her tale.

"I may be young and naïve, and please understand that death and destruction is new to me. A week ago I still lived a sheltered and safe life where nothing was ugly and dangerous. But then my world was shattered. My parents got a great idea of me having to marry and they already had selected a husband for me. And what a husband; rich and powerful, but at least thirty years my senior and wide as a cartwheel. He must have weighed like a horse - and he looked like a pig as well! I protested with all my might, but there was nothing to do, the dowry had been paid and I was simply informed that the very next day I was to be wed to this behemoth of a man – who I barely knew. So you understand my plight." Amashanae nodded her head gravely while Juara sat quietly, remembering a similar task he had completed a while back for money – a great success on his part too.

"I decided to flee. And much to my amazement my mother helped me. Oh how I got scared as she caught me making my escape...but it turned out she had had that in mind all along. She had to be firm in public – and in front of my father, you see – but she herself had suffered the very same fate at my age, and because of that, she had made her mind to help me escape rather than become a concubine for this...horrible old man. Asaryen's voice broke and she trembled, remembering her family and dear mother. Amashanae laid her hand on the girl's shoulder and soothed her.

"There, there...but that does not yet explain why you ran across the desert with no supplies?"

"Yes! And I was certain I was going to die right then and there! You see, my mother had arranged me a horse and supplies, everything I might need. And I was supposed to slip into the next city and come morning flee towards the coast, where my mother has some distant kin – but a fool I was."

"Ye decided to cut though the desert" Juara butted in laconically.

"Yes I did. What a folly! I was so glad to have escaped, my newfound freedom rushing in my veins, I just couldn't help but decide to ride all through the night and directly to the coast. Little did I understand that the desert is no place for a young girl and a farm horse to ride at night. At first I felt happy and careless, for I had escaped after all. But after what felt like a very long ride already I suddenly found myself arriving at a camp of drunken bandits. Such luck! But that is how it happened – before I knew it, I was riding for my life and possessions across the desert. I had a good head start, and perhaps I could have made it, but my horse was as inexperienced as I was, and before long it fell from under me and broke its foot. And thus I was left fleeing across the sands on foot. Oh!" Asaryen suddenly lifted a hand on her mouth, looking horrified. "Oh the poor creature – I never did think about what happened to it before now! How sad!"

"Asaryen, do not worry...there was nothing we could have done for it in any case. I was fleeing myself, and there was great danger" Amashanae said, pondering about it for a while. "In fact I also would have been in quite a peril, since I had to run to the desert on foot to begin with." Asaryen stared at Amashanae, then Juara, who shook his shoulders.

"Where did you appear from, anyway? I thought you did not know!" Asaryen said.

"Of course I do remember...something", Amashanae said, her hand creeping up to her chest to touch the amulet. She pondered how much it would be wise to reveal, and decided to keep it simple. "One thing I have learned is that my race is hated everywhere I go and that is why I always wear my hood."

Asaryen and Juara glanced at each other.

"Ah, Amashanae... I do not think it is yer race that scares people. It is just that your kin never comes this south, and people always fear, maybe even hate what is alien to them" Juara said.

"Yes I believe Juara is right. Even I was frightened when I saw you for the first time" Asaryen affirmed.

"I am sure when we get closer to Kiarra people will be more accustomed to seeing more elves."

"Well, we shall see..." Amashanae said, feeling a strange warming tingle in her heart. Perhaps she was not all bad after all. She smiled and touched her amulet again "I have this" she said, pulling it out and showing it to Asaryen and Juara, who bent closer and examined it carefully. "And this" she continued, reaching for her blade from the scabbard. It was a beautiful blade, smoothly curved in the middle and towards the tip; a double-edged, rather short sword with mysterious engravings on it.

"If anything, it looks ancient", said Juara. "I have never seen a blade quite like that...or metal like that. Must be elven." he said in a quiet voice. Amashanae slipped the blade back into the scabbard and dropped the amulet in between her breasts.

"These objects I have...and I also know something about having a sister. I think. And... Tahlthar?" She turned her gaze onto Juara. "But that, I think, is something that you would know more about?"

"Well, ah, we'll see, we'll see" Answered Juara, suddenly developing an interest to dig for some leftovers by the fire.

"Tahlthar will be found in Kiarra, I distinctly remember a certain ratty soldier tell me once" Amashanae said in a more powerful voice directed at the man. "Now let us hear what..." but she never finished the sentence, instead leaping on her feet and half pulling her blade out of the scabbard once again. "Stop!" she exclaimed. For there was a raggedy, dirty, hunched man suddenly standing right next to them as if he had stepped in from nowhere.

"THE BEAST" the man breathed out, his mouth screaming wide, but without much voice, in a horrid hissing hack: "BEAST."

"What in damnation..." began Juara, as the man tuned to stare at him with bulging eyes gleaming in the light from the fire.

"The BEAST. Can't you SEE! He's alive...alive...he's here the END is here the beast is HERE..." and then he broke into a hysterical laughter.

"Stop, ye vile man!" Juara said, "Ye are scaring the women – what are ye, crazy or bewitched?" and stepped forward. "Just keep yer mouth shut for a second and..." he held his hand in a stopping gesture against the man's face, when without any hesitation or predetermination the man bent forward and sank his teeth into Juara's middle finger.

"AAH!" Juara exclaimed, and pulled back his hand, only to find out that his finger had been bitten clean off at the second knuckle. "AAH ye! Ye!" he stumbled back, unable to react as the man vanished into the darkness where he had emerged from, leaving only an echo of muffled muttering, shrieks of laughter and exclamations as he ran into the woods with a piece of Juara's flesh and bone in his mouth and everything went black for Juara.

*****

"Should have gone after him" Juara muttered as he pulled his horse beside Amashanae's as they rode the path they hoped would lead them to Kiarra. The forest was much less dense now, and the path had gotten much wider but obviously no more often used. They had not encountered another living being after the crazy man. They passed smaller pathways deviating from the path they followed every now and then, but none looked any more used than the one they were on. So they continued on the same path, because it seemed to keep leading them to more or less correct direction. "I would like to have a little discussion with him, yes I would" Juara continued, caressing his injured fist, clearly feeling less than comfortable.

"Am I hearing resentment in your voice?" asked Amashanae.

"He just got me by surprise. "

"Strange how you fell so easily" Amashanae smiled.

"It was the drink" Juara said and stared at the elf. "He just got me by surprise. And quit smirking. I would have jumped him if it had been me watching and ye assaulted, so thank ye very much."

"I would be more interested in what did he mean about the beast. It does not sound like good news to me" Amashanae said, trying to change the topic and hide her amusement of the plight of the warrior with hurt pride.

"Ayh," welcomed Juara the change of direction. "Strange things are happening these days. Plenty of evil creatures on the move, that is for sure." He winced as his hurt hand touched the saddle. They had done their best to undo the damage, but the wound did hurt plenty. They had cauterized the finger with a red-hot dagger and applied some hopefully healing herbs and a bandage, and all this medication Juara had taken with clenched teeth but otherwise barely expressing pain, in an attempt to salvage at least some of his hurt pride. But the hand ached and throbbed under the bandages and his spirits were low, as he wondered if he would be able to wield a sword properly for a good while. "It may be good that we stumbled across such a deserted road through the forest. Who knows what armies are out and about."

Amashanae did not reply, immersed in her thoughts. Then suddenly the path seemed to open into a clearing, and as they approached it became clear that there was something ahead; a dwelling of some sort, as they could see an old fence feebly trying to keep the foliage out of the clearing, and the roof of a small house visible behind the last few trees. The horses neighed as they pulled to a stop.

"Shh. Hold it!" ordered Amashanae, and Juara gave her a look, but obeyed. They dismounted the horses and discussed.

"It appears to be a cabin or a house of some sort. Strange location, in the middle of the woods." Juara said.

"Unless we are already on the outskirts of Kiarra." Amashanae answered.

"I do not think so. There should have been more traffic already, if we were close." Instinctively Juara dropped his hand on his sword, pulling it back and grimacing as if he had touched red-hot iron.

Amashanae eyed him with an expression mixed with amusement and pity. "Let us tread lightly. I shall go onto the yard first; stay back and wait until I give you a signal."

"We will", said Asaryen, touching Juara's left hand and giving him a supportive look. "Go ahead."

Amashanae gave her reins to Juara and casually walked towards the opening ahead. Even before she got to the yard of the house – for it was but a small, solitary house – a smell of death glided into her nose. Warily but quickly she eyed the yard. Nobody in sight. No traces of recent habitation; no smoke rising from the chimney and tall, unbent grass everywhere. But in the grass she saw something out of place in such a rustic view – signs of fighting; a couple of rusty partial plain mails, a sword jutting upright here and a moss-covered spear there. As she approached, she saw human remains as well. Skeletons and rotting bodies in final stages of decomposition lay scattered in front of the house. Not only soldiers it seemed, but a few plain-clothed bodies as well. It certainly was a place where nobody would feel like they wanted to visit. She gestured to the others to come closer, but retraced her steps to meet them halfway in the yard. Their horses snorted and neighed, clearly scared. The air itself seemed dead calm and stale and they all could feel there was something there, and it was cloaking them in.

Asaryen was clearly very scared of the house. "I-I really think we should go away", she shivered and glanced around. "I really do not like this place"

"I do not agree", Juara said and dropped the bridle from his hand, stepping forward. "I mean, a nasty place this seems, yes, but there is something that... that beckons me in that house." He took another step towards the house. A small drip of blood dropped from the bandage wrapped over his right hand. The pain was constantly throbbing but he did not flinch.

"I feel a presence too, but it is not calling me", Amashanae said and gestured towards the house and the dead bodies. Or was it? "The front is scattered with bodies. I feel like approaching a nest of some hideous beast and the spoils of its meals. There is something evil there, that is for sure. We should steer clear of the house and walk around it quickly."

"Juara, please don't go in there", Asaryen pleaded. "Please, let's go away."

"Do not ye worry girl, there is probably nothing in there. Whatever has killed these people...probably gone away a long time ago" he grinned at Asaryen assertively. But it did little to soothe Asaryen's nerves.

"Fine. If you want to go there and get killed, I am not going to stop you" she said angrily, turned on her heels and sulked.

"She is right, Juara. Come on, let us get of here", Amashanae added and began to pull on the bridle. But before they had the time to continue their argument, the door of the house flung open noiselessly, and an eerie, feminine breath of voice whispered from the pitch black darkness behind the doorway, quietly but very clearly:

"Help me... save me"

Amashanae's hair stood up with fright. It was very similar to her dream. And the voice was somehow eerily familiar to her. She gripped the leather strap, keeping the horses in check, calm outward but thoughts raging inside her. What was this? To her horror Juara immediately started towards the house. Of course, a warrior's weakness should be ladies in distress, this was like an invitation to him, she thought bitterly. Juara tried to bare his sword with his hurt hand, but grunted and flung it out of the scabbard with his left hand, took running before the others even realized it, he had crossed the yard and plunged in through the door. Asaryen or Amashane had no time to do anything about it.

"Help me...save me...save yourself" the voice beckoned once more.

The door slammed closed after Juara. Amashanae quickly gave the horses to Asaryen and started towards the house herself. Asaryen began to sob and gripped the reins and tried to hide behind the horse. It was then that they heard Juara shout out loud inside the house:

"By the God of Two Skies, what are ye!"

There was a loud rustle of sounds as Juara apparently attacked something, letting out his battle cry. Amashanae drew her blade and jumped to the door. She tried to kick it in, but it did not budge.

"Juara!" Asaryen was now screaming in terror and could not stand still any more, but ran towards the house, holding the horses that followed her hesitantly and with wild eyes, neighing and kicking. Reins still in her hand she joined Amashanae at the door, banging it with her fists and bawling. "Juara!"

The man screamed inside. Amashanae stared at her wrists, eyes wide and bewildered.

"This would be a good time?" she whispered. Nothing happened.

Asaryen pounded the door and looked at Amashanae, shocked.

"Do something!"

Amashanae continued kicking and pummeling the door as inside the sounds fell silent. Finally the door gave in and smashed open to reveal the room inside. It was completely silent there. Asaryen rushed in, having dropped the reins and with no regard for her own safety.

"Wait!" Amashanae yelled, but Asaryen was already inside. She followed her without hesitation, but what they saw then made them freeze on their tracks and dropped their jaws. The house consisted of only one large room, and in the middle of the room floated something, suspended in the air and radiating a weak glow in the darkness. It had a form of a beautiful feminine figure, and even though it appeared translucent, they could not see through it, nor make out its distorted features well. Asaryen sighed:

"A wraith!"

The wraith's hands pointed towards the women and its head tilted to the side as it whispered again with a smile on her lips, with long, drawn vowels, as if out of breath:

"Help me... save us...please!"

As their eyes quickly began to adjust to the dim light inside, they saw Juara lying unconscious by the wall. He seemed alive and serene, but there was a green moss-like growth that seemed to have started growing on his skin like a fungus and kept creeping up his sides.

"What are you?" Amashanae asked, staring at the wraith. It stared her back in the eye and continued smiling gently.

"Help..."

"I will show you help" said Amashanae, swinging her blade at the wraith. It went straight through the apparition as if mere air. "What..."

The wraith lifted up its head and let out a cry with a sound like silver coins falling on a platter echoing around the room, which suddenly seemed to them had begun growing larger. But it was a cry of desperation, not victory, and it gave Amashanae more strength.

Amashanae tried to swing her blade again, although she already knew it was for nought. She saw the moss grow quickly on Juara, almost touching his face now.

"Amashanae, do something", Asaryen begged with tears welling in her eyes.

"But what?" Amashanae lowered her blade and quit slashing. "Steel will not harm her!"

The wraith gestured and screamed unintelligible words again, as if her voice was reaching from somewhere very far from there, and Amashanae suddenly felt something reaching up her leg, something growing there.

"Then we shall try something else", Asaryen suddenly said, and this time all the fear in hear voice had vanished. She wiped her eyes and stepped up to the wraith and started yelling at it:

"You stupid ghost! Let Juara go! You have no right to take him from me!" she screamed. "What are you to lure men here to die, you monster! You're a fool if you think I'll let that happen, yes you are!"

Amashanae looked at Asaryen, astonished, but for some reason not surprised. She understood what sort of a girl Asaryen could be when the push came to shove. She looked at the wraith. It is a ghost, what could she do to it? Scare it back to the underworlds whence it came?

"Listen to me you ghost-woman", Asaryen kept demanding. "I want him back!" and to Amashanae's astonishment the wraith stopped moving and slid backwards with hands reaching towards them, as if she were suddenly sinking behind.

Amashanae tried reaching at Juara, now almost entirely covered with moss, but something prevented her doing so. There was moss already growing on her leg, too. She looked at the young girl facing the wraith with desperation. Go ahead Asaryen! Whatever it is, it is working" she thought, pressing against the force that seemed to give in slightly as she pressed, but growing stronger by the second. She could also stare at the wraith, which now bent forward towards the raging girl heroically staring her down.

"Does your hero love you?" it spoke to Asaryen with a grave voice, reaching out its arm and holding a small red object in it.

With that Asaryen quieted down, looking at the wraith and losing momentum. Tears began to appear in her eyes once again. The wraith seemed to try to say something but the figure contorted and twisted. Amashanae kept pushing and trying to reach Juara, staring at the two female figures wrestling their minds in the middle of the room, when it suddenly dawned on her what was required. It came in another vision, a flash a heartbeat long, but this time it was different. It was warm. The wraith changed just for a blink of an eye, but for a moment she could saw a familiar face replacing the wraith's visage. It was her. Time around her stood still as she just stared at the wraith; a moment immersed in some shady, blurred version of reality, and she was not alone in it. But as suddenly as she had been drawn into it, she was shaken back out.

"You love him? Your hero?" they made out from its words as the wraith exclaimed and seemed to laugh and cry at the same time.

Asaryen had lost her edge and could not say anything more, only retreated in the face of the apparition, began to sob and fell on the floor. But now Amashanae knew what she had to do. She pushed Asaryen aside and stepped right in the front of the wraith, using all her willpower to drag her feet through the moss that seemed to be growing everywhere by now.

"Me. Look at me", she stared the wraith directly in its eyes. The wraith stared back at her and tilted its head, its expression changing to that of a child, and the others stared in awe as they realized the wraith now looked like a mirror image of the elf. Amashanae whispered and the wraith bent forward to listen. And as it did the moss started disappearing from Juara's face, and his eyelids wavered as he began coughing and moaning quietly. The moss vanished like smoke all around them and the wraith seemed very pale now. Asaryen got up also, seeing the wraith falter, and screamed at the ghost with all her voice:

"Get back! Begone!"

But the wraith's gaze had never left Amashanae's eyes. It smiled a peaceful smile now as the moss receded, and Juara opened his eyes. The first thing he heard returning to consciousness was how the wraith said something to Amashanae:

"There is love, remember!" and then it suddenly vanished. Amashanae and Asaryen rushed towards Juara.

"Are you alright?" Amashanae asked, helping him stand up.

Juara coughed deep.

"I think I am... Ye girls... Ye saved me", he stuttered.

Asaryen held his arm and hugged him, but then, before he had time to say anything more, she stepped back and gave him a mighty slap across his face.

"Don't you ever do that again!" she yelled and promptly marched out, huffing and puffing angrily.

"Ouch! What did I do to her?" Juara asked, cheeks flushed, and picked up his sword. He wiped out the rest of the moss from his armour, puzzled.

"What is this wickedry?" he held small pause. "And there was a... wraith? What happened to it? Did I kill it?"

Amashanae laughed, and there was a strange, relieved sound to her laugh.

"Our bad-tempered friend battered it back to the underworld where it belongs. You should thank her. She is so worried about you and she got scared, that is all"

Juara stared at Amashanae. "Well, I better go right away then", he then said and started after Asaryen. Amashanae watched him go and heaved a sigh. Such a big baby...such babies. For she knew the truth of why the wrath had vanished in thin air. She knew the truth why it had freed Juara, and she knew there would be a time she would have to make good on her promise. Because in the wraith she had seen her fate to be some day to have to make a selection between what she wanted to become; it had promised her that she would find herself and become whole again. To rid herself from the burden she felt inside her. And it had made her make a promise to make the right choice, when the time would come. It had not said it with words, and it was not to be in words, but in deeds. What deeds, and in what time, she did not know yet, but her heart was for once filled with a feeling of there being a future for her. A chill ran down her spine and she made to leave the dark room, but something caught her eye on the ground. She bent down to pick it up. A small, heart-shaped jewel stone. She picked it up and examined it briefly and then pocketed it. Again letting out a deep sigh, she gave a last, careful look at the now abandoned and quiet, normal room and stepped outside where Juara was apologizing to Asaryen. Oh yes, she knew why he was saved.
CHAPTER 9

It was a beautiful early afternoon as Taigren and his group returned back to their home in the forest of Mim, the ancestral homeland of the Elves. The journey back from the mountain had taken them a full day and a night, and they had barely exchanged words during the journey down the mountain. Even though Geriner had woken soon after they had started their descent, he was ashamed by his actions in the dragons' lair. No one had expressed feeling any anger at him – they seemed more amused than outraged in fact, which only heightened the feel of shame in Geriner's mind. But as was the way of the Elves, such matters were soon forgotten and forgiven. There is no shame in feeling fear meeting the mighty dragon Taigren had told him, and true it was. A true elf did not lose respect for another lightly, even if the young sometimes teased and ridiculed each other over trivial matters as children do. And so it was that by the time they had reached the outskirts of the forest and plunged into its warm, familiar embrace with lush green cathedrals of trees over the mossy soil, Geriner had already regained his composure, swearing to himself he would never cause any further shame on his companions.

Although the forest was vast and hard to travel for any unwelcome visitor, for the elves it was their home they knew like the backs of their hands. Mim was the very largest and perhaps the oldest of the elven forests in Brodérunn; the centre of the forest elf culture. It was not known exactly how large the forest actually was, for it reached far between the northern mountain ranges and the Orc Mountains to the east. Neither was the number of the elves dwelling there known, but if asked, Taigren and the others would have merely shrugged their soldiers and perhaps answered that there were vast numbers of their kin. And indeed it might well be the forest elves were the race that had the greatest numbers in all of Brodérunn, although elves were rarely spotted outside the forests they occupied, much in the same way dwarves were practically never seen outside their mountains and mines to the west. In the ancient times before the Time of Oblivion they had lived everywhere in Brodérunn, but according to tales they had started to retreat to their forests aeons ago, giving way to other races slowly pouring into Brodérunn and avoid conflict with Firnaraee during the Oblivion. Taigren knew of the pact the elves had long since agreed to – with little pleasure – with the Mistress of Thraewyns. They would sacrifice no elves in their unholy rites and stay clear of the forests in exchange for certain items and provisions from the elves. This among certain other things the elders had ruled over was a matter that greatly disturbed a warrior such as Taigren, but he understood and complied with the elders, as he knew the pact had saved the lives of innumerable elves. Even though the Elves with our superior skills of war could wipe the earth clean of the cult if we wanted to he often had thought to himself. He was proud of their ancient heritage and the fact that theirs was the only race that had dealings with the mighty dragons. But in the end, the forest elves were a quiet people who avoided bloodshed at any cost. Because their life spans were so long in the eyes of other mortals, they rather kept to themselves and were seldom in a hurry. They had little need for neighborly visits and communication either, with villages leading their independent lives in the eternal forest like they had since the Erstwhile Ages. Thus the party quietly passed a few Elven villages on their way, well hidden amidst the trees, but it was easy for them to find their paths through the thickets.

As they finally reached their own village and the others ran straight to their homes to greet their families, Taigren rode straight through their village all the way to the temple. As he reached the temple he barely stopped his horse when he stormed in, anxious to deliver the news. But even in his haste he had to hesitate for a moment at the door. It always struck him with awe to enter the temple, which to any observer would simply look like a magnificent tree with a large opening in between its root branches, but as one entered the doors it seemed impossible the vast rooms inside could fit within the confines of the living tree it was built in. As he stepped inside, the enigmatic atmosphere in the temple engulfed him. Green smoke whirled here and there and dozens of torches cast strange shadows on the floor and the murals. The temple was where the elders lived, and there was an air of tranquil eternity about it even stronger than elsewhere in the elven forest. The elders did not actually rule the villages, but they formed a council who provided advice when asked, and usually that advice was heeded. Taigren walked straight into the main hall of the temple, where seven figures, clothed in greenish robes, were sitting in a straight line, expecting his arrival. Taigren knelt down in front of them and bowed his head, going straight into the matter he had on his mind.

"Oh doyen, the dragons..." he started, "...they are going to leave. They will leave us to fight by ourselves."

There was no answer.

"Galtrone asked us to join them..." Taigren continued, glancing at the elders to see if they would respond. But they merely looked at him.

"I declined, naturally" he continued and laid his eyes down again.

"Did you have, the permission, an order from us, to give such an answer?" One of the figures suddenly broke their silence. Taigren lifted his head, frightened.

"No! But...I thought..."

"It is irrelevant, what you were thinking of. What is not, is the fate of the world."

"But...I do not..."

"No, it is not a matter of argument at the moment, no, we are not blaming you Taigren" said the same voice in a much more pleasant voice, while all seven figures revealed their faces by letting their hoods slid down.

"There is the matter of the dragon," one of the elders took a step forward towards Taigren and spoke.

"But I have just told you that the dragons are leaving" Taigren said, still puzzled.

"Ah, you did not listen to us child. It is Bathalá we are speaking of" The elder continued.

"The dragon god? But even the dragons refuse to believe it exists? How would the elves, then...?" Taigren exclaimed, even more confused.

"We are sensing that there are disturbances in dimension. We now believe that the path to Bathalá will soon be revealed."

"Well then, the dragons, do they know? Perhaps they would not be leaving if they heard of this"

"They will find out; it is not our concern to inform them. At any rate, there is nothing the dragons, or us can do now."

"I fail understand. Who can, then? Shall we not try and find the path?"

One of the oldest of the elders leaned forward, and the others fell quiet in expectance.

"History...will show us the correct path" he said.

"History? And shall we only act after our families have become history? Shall we continue or pacts with the cult as they laugh at our faces and destroy the world as we watch idly by?" Taigren felt his blood run hot as he felt he was not understood at all.

"Taigren...there is always a beginning to any path, as well as an ending. And the path is something we cannot change. You should know there was a world before us, a different world. We believe before the Time of Oblivion, six thousand and four hundred twenty two years before the devastation, foundations were set for this world. Little is known of that. What is certain, however, is that there was a great battle against Firnaraee. And there will be yet more to come. It may seem impossible to you now, Taigren, but there were dozens of towns long forgotten now...hundreds of thousands of beings...all decimated by the beast as it was released."

"Yes I understand, and should we not do something now the beast is raising again?"

"Nobody knows whence Bathalá came from, or why it vanished again. All we know is that Firnaraee was captured and buried in stone, for it could not be destroyed. But in those times two religions were founded, the cult of Firnaraee the dark Mistress leads in search of its grave, and the Order of Templars, which serve Bathalá. But that was over two thousand years ago now, and woe to us, the dark cult has but gained more strength of late, whereas the Templars...little remains of them as far as we know. The Time of Serenity is nearing its end."

"That is what I fear as well...and...what can we do then? What is your command to your servant?" Taigren bowed his head.

"Fear not my child" another elder said, pausing for a moment. "The only thing that we can do to help is help the knights of Bathalá. It is not for us to find their god, even if have foreseen it happen. You must find their leader and offer your swords, bows and souls at their disposal." Then the eldest of the council spoke simply:

"Find Sharn."

"By your command." Taigren answered promptly. Not once in his experience the elders had been wrong, and he would not be the first to doubt their word. He nodded his head and with that, exited the temple. He now had a tangible mission; a chance to do something for his people. He had prayed he would not just have to wait and watch his kin face the threatening fate. Now he could call his best warriors to arms and find Sharn, the knight the elders spoke about.

Back in the temple the elders retreated in their chambers, but before they parted, they exchanged a few more words:

"Are we sure it is Taigren we must send to this task so imperative?" asked one of the elders. There was no answer. The eldest of them – he who they suspected had perhaps witnessed the devastation as a small child himself – merely walked away from them, not even turning his head to reply and leaving the others puzzled and pondering:

"The path...is set."

It did not take long for Taigren and a dozen other warriors before they were already riding towards Kiarra, where they knew the remnants of the Order of Templars should be found. They sped through the glens and open steppes like the storm wind during the fall and their beautifully pedigreed elven horses' hooves pounded the soil like a drum tattoo. The roar of the riders could be heard already from a great distance as well as the dust cloud the hooves kicked up could be seen, for they spared no time or effort in getting on with their task. All the twelve elves were master swordsmen and equally masterful in the art of archery, the traditional weapon of the elves. It had taken but a short while for Taigren to call up his warriors. No questions were asked, no doubt expressed – they simply kissed their loved ones goodbye, as it was not the way of the elves to distrust their kin and their captains. They trusted each other perfectly, as just as perfectly their wives and family trusted that their men would return home...and even in case they would not, there was still no need for lengthy goodbyes. The journey to Kiarra from Mim would normally take up to two months, but the elves had their means to accomplishing the trip in half the time. They knew their haste was well justified, so they did not spare their horses much to gain ground quickly. Days would run their path, and they had to make haste. They rode on in silence with nothing but the thunder of the horses' hooves, until the sound was drowned out by a real thunder and a heavy rain began to fall on them. Taigren eyed his troops, who rode on in the rain, slowing their pace only slightly to allow the horses to better hold their balance on the slippery surfaces. They were on a mission for the elven kind, to locate a Bathalá templar named Sharn, but they did not know why. Even Taigren had no real idea what would they say or do once they found him. That information had not been offered by the elders, and it had not been his place to demand more information. The path was set. He only knew that he was to do as the elders commanded, until his dying body would be unable to comply or the Great Wheel of Time would finish its journey through the aeons. The thunderstorm raged on and the elves raced through the landscape like ghosts trying to escape the approaching darkness on their heels.

*****

Since leaving the haunted house behind, Asaryen had remained angry at Juara for quite a while. But if there was something Juara was good at, it was talking to women - especially young and naíve. So Asaryen had finally given in and accepted his apologies and the company had continued their journey towards Kiarra in more or less good spirits again. Once Asaryen had forgiven the warrior she had not been able to keep quiet, babbling about old stories, wraiths and ghosts, and her bravery in the face of the horror. The throbbing pain in Juara's hand had subsided just a little – and that in turn meant that the pain from his previous injuries raised their ugly head again – but he had not been able to resist smiling at Asaryen's childish zeal. The path had led them in northern or northwestern direction and just when they had been getting suspicious of ever clearing the thickest woods, they finally had come across a trail that appeared more a road than a path. It had appeared to be a well-used route to a town or a village – hopefully already the outskirts of Kiarra. By the time the evening sun had painted the trees red they had met a traveler from a nearby village, who had told them that Kiarra was still a long way off, but that there was a village at a few hours ride away, and they just might make it there before the nightfall. And so they had decided not to camp in the woods for yet another night but try and make it to the village instead, as none of them could resist a chance to lay their heads on soft inn pillows instead of saddlebags. Not to mention the prospect of proper food. True to his adventurous nature, Juara had already begun to imagine full tankards of tasty village ale as well as other public amusements. Whatever he might be able to use to forget the pain in his hand and body. There might also be a healer available if he got lucky. The news of the village ahead had not settled Amashanae's mind and she remained worried and alert as always. She eagerly awaited a change to sleep in a bed, but she was also afraid of her dreams coming back. Would they keep her from sleeping once again now that they must be close to locating Tahlthar? If they indeed were she had thought and kept casting looks at Juara, who just seemed immersed in his dreams of ale and the joys of the inn he expected to find.

Sure enough, it was dark already when they reached the village. Furthermore, just half an hour before they arrived it had also started to rain quite hard, and the travelers were quickly soaked to the bone. Large droplets battered them on the last legs of the road, but they held a good pace, eager to find a warm and dry inn to rest in. The cloth wrapped on Juara's injured hand was wet with both blood and rainwater, and although it still throbbed and hurt he now just joked about it, anxious to get some soothing drinks in.

The village was not very big. There were a few dozen buildings surrounding a surprisingly large inn with an intriguing name 'Maids Gale' carved on the plaque handing over its doorway, well visible to any traveler right after entering the village grounds. There were a couple of shops near the inn, a small barracks-type building and a blacksmith's. When they passed the gates the travelers were barraged with various sounds of the village. The shops had already closed, but in the barracks, soldiers could be heard singing their battle songs, flagrantly drunk, with no worry of tomorrow. The blacksmith was still hard at work, at least based upon the sounds of hammering and the hum of his furnace audible even through the driving rain as they rode by. Two stray dogs were scampering in a small alley, trying to keep away from the rain and barked at a few mangy cats digging at a pile of garbage looking for something to eat. As they got closer they saw there were a few drunks lurking around the inn door, and to the women's surprise and Juara's delight, even a village this small appeared to have harlots trying to lure tired male travelers to separate with a piece of silver or two. Two such girls shouted their invitations at Juara from their windows across the street as they came to the inn, and from Asaryen's viewpoint it seemed that Juara gave a bit too much attention to them, smiling and nodding his head approvingly.

The wind battered the inn sign that whisked back and forth above their heads as they arrived at the door, and a warm hum of voices emanated from inside, tempting them to step in. They dismounted their horses and a young servant-boy immediately appeared from somewhere, pushing the drunkards farther from the doorway. Juara gave him a couple of copper coins to take care of their horses, warning him that these horses had better find a warm, dry place, food and a good tending to, and they entered the building.

The inn was comparative clean. It was a very common type of 'better' inns in Brodérunn, and although full of people – or because of it – it had a very cozy atmosphere. A bunch of peasants were relaxing in one corner after a hard day of work, emptying beer tankards and throwing dice. Some off-duty soldiers were amusing themselves in another corner, drinking what Juara believed to be distilled peach spirits, shouting lewd remarks to a group of harlots who were seductively coquetting beside the stony wall next to the fireplace. An odd pair of travelers – judging by their appearance a sorceress of some arts and a well-clad knight – were sitting in the back with their bags and belongings stacked behind them, as if trying to protect their belongings from possible thieves. A pair of rag-clad beggars aimlessly wandered from one table to the next, hoping to find an abandoned drink, a smoke, or maybe get a few coins for mercy. Several servant girls ran hither and thither, refilling jugs and jars and collecting the payments. There were plenty of other peasants and local people also, standing around with drinks in hand or sitting at tables with a platters of food – or the omnipresent tankards of beer. It seemed like a busy night at the inn. Right next to the door they had just walked through there stood a huge big man with an even larger jaw, a doorman and a guardian to keep the patrons at check, and right behind him there was a small group of bards playing happy songs that hardly could be heard over the general chatter of voices and laughter. From the kitchen behind the bar floated a scent of stew and roasted beef which brought water to their tongues, and behind the bar stood the inn-keeper himself, a big, fat man wearing a moustache and cleaning a dirty goblet with a rag.

The buzz of conversation and noise quieted down for a brief moment as the travelers walked in from the shadow at the door, and everyone glanced at them. Most of them also stared at the companions for an uncomfortably long time, it seemed to Amashanae, for it was she who collected the greatest attention. Even soaking wet and covered with a cloak a beautiful elf-woman would drew attention on her anywhere. Also, it was quite rare that an elf would wander in these parts of Brodérunn. Amashanae felt somewhat uncertain of herself. It was not the first time she had walked inside an inn just to realize she would have to make an escape but a few moments later. To her relief, the sound of conversation and chatter continued soon enough, and she let out a sigh. It was just few men staring at her; perhaps it was not unique behavior. And although she had a little inkling of her impact, she hardly realized that a beauty such as hers was hardly ever witnessed around these parts, and even the harlots were visibly jealous of the attention she got despite her appearance in a soggy cloak. There was hardly a man who could forget those deep eyes that seemed to sparkle from beneath the cloak.

The companions made their way to the bar and sat on the stools in front of it. They must have appeared a strange bunch of travelers: a warrior with an injured hand covered with bloody rags, an extremely beautiful elf woman and a young girl that kept looking around her, very curious, as if she had never been to an inn before. Despite their appearance, the innkeeper was not in the habit of asking too many questions from strangers – such inquiries tended to bring more harm than benefit – and he never turned down a customer if they were human. Goblins and such excluded, but those rarely made it into the village alive, if a lone such creature should venture too near.

"Good night, travelers", he began. "What may I offer thee? Hungry, perchance? I can get you some good ale just readied last week, and some fresh stew. And if you need a place to stay for the night, I..."

"Is there a healer in the village?" Amashanae rudely interrupted then man, nodding towards his wounded hand.

"Ah, never mind the lady", Juara said, giving a look that spelled 'I can take care of myself' to Amashanae, but grimaced with pain as he waved his hurt hand without thinking about it.

"Why, yes, ma'm, a few doors down the street there's old Geyal, the healer. She can heal even severe injuries." The innkeeper lowered his voice and gestured Juara to bend closer. "Mind you, she can be a little crazy. Claims to be a clairvoyant, both past and future, she does. Anyhow – not dangerous and she can heal real well. So we don't mind a little eccentricity, see? You better go see her right away." The innkeeper straightened his back. "I'll have the maid ready your rooms while you visit the healer?" he continued, now addressing all of them.

"Did we say we needed a room?" Amashanae asked, well knowing the answer.

"Eh, well, I thought that you looked like that, all wet and tired-looking" the innkeeper blurted out and gestured surrender – clearly a man used to dealing with tired and difficult customers. "But I should have known. Ever since the word got out about the wraith that haunts these woods here, all we've been getting is knights and all sort of hot-bloods seeking for adventure and fame, and they need no rooms in their haste to seek their quest. And even if they get a room, they don't return to pay their bills, so why bother..." he quieted down, performing an exaggerated display of despair like a thespian on stage, turned about and made for the kitchen. Amashanae was amused by the act played by the man and gave a sidelong glance at Asaryen, but Juara stopped the innkeeper before he slipped into the kitchen.

"Hold it! What wraith? Ye would not mean the ghostly maiden in the cabin a day's journey from the village?"

The innkeeper turned on his heel and stepped back to Juara, eyes gleaming with excitement and almost bellowed out:

"Yes. That very maiden, indeed that maiden! Dozens of good knights have taken on the task of getting rid of the wench, none succeeding. And most have never returned! The house is cursed, cursed I tell you, and there is nothing to exorcise the wraith, it seems. She's been terrorizing travelers for dozens of lengths around the forest...some claim to have seen her even right here, right near the village!" The innkeeper glanced round, checking his voice and demeanor. Then he confided to Juara and the women in a more quiet voice:

"See, that is why there are hardly any regular travelers around any more, just knights and wizards and warriors of all sorts. Nothing ill implied, sir" he glanced at Juara, bowing his head slightly. "I'm not really complaining, after all, since people fear the wraith the inn is full of people drinking every night – they're afraid of staying home alone – but I would prefer to cater for rich merchants and salesmen as well." Then he paused and eyed the three companions. "That's what you came here for, then, is it? Well be warned, and go and meet thy destiny...but I won't be serving you no supper on credit, mind you."

Juara looked at Amashanae, noticing how the elf had a slight smile on her lips, and then he exploded in laughter, even forgetting the pain in his hand for a minute. The innkeeper was taken aback and got serious.

"Mock me not! I speak the truth!" he exclaimed and made to go to the kitchen once again.

"No, wait!" Juara wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes."I did not mean to insult thee, it is simply that we already encountered the pale wench."

"But you're alive and well!" the innkeeper blurted, his eye falling on Juara's hand.

Juara laughed again. "Asaryen, tell the man here what ye did to the ghost!"

"What, me?" Asaryen blushed, but then she picked up her spirits and said:

"I beat her back to the depths she belongs to!" she proclaimed in a loud voice.

"What!" yelled the innkeeper "The curse has been lifted?" he shouted, and with that the whole inn seemed to quiet down and turn to watch the spectacle at the bar. "I don't believe thee!"

The travelers glanced at each other. Then Juara spoke in an assuring voice that accepted no disbelief.

"Ye may believe us. There will be plenty of travelers and plenty of need for rooms, if that wench was what was keeping them away. For we did, indeed, drive the wraith back to where she belongs. If it was a curse, it is now lifted." But even if his voice was steady and low, in his mind he saw a glimpse of a moss-covered wall and he felt a cold tingling in his spine. The innkeeper believed his solemn word, and looked at the women.

"That's right" Asaryen affirmed. "It was about to get Juara here, but I didn't let her do it. I drove the wench away!" she said with naïve pride in her voice.

"Hear that!" the innkeeper shouted at the people in the inn. "The curse is lifted! Free ale all around!" and begun to lift pints on the desk.

The whole inn seemed to explode with cheers and cries of jubilation.

"Indeed, you have brought the light back to these parts, dear travelers! Drinks and accommodation are on the house for thee!" he continued, all smiles, and brought up pints full of foaming ale. To Asaryen he said:

"You must tell me all about it in a moment. Oh joyous day!" Then he turned his attention to Juara: "You will find the healer a few doors down. The maid here will guide you. Tell her I sent you, and you won't need to pay for her services."

Juara touched his sore hand and winced. Then he nodded his thanks to the innkeeper. A waitress brought them goblets of peach drink, giving a very long look at Juara, biting her lip seductively. Juara winked his eye to the girl, grabbed a goblet and gulped it down in one huge gulp. He got up, slammed the goblet on the table and saw Asaryen stare at him with jealousy burning in her eyes.

"Have fun, I am off to see to my hand" he said and followed the maid out of the inn. Another girl appeared to bring goblets for Asaryen and Amashanae as well, and then proceeded to get some stew to feed their growling stomachs. But they hardly got to touch their drinks before people were already on them, asking questions and leering at their new heroes.

Juara stepped out of the inn. He inhaled deep and then clenched his teeth. It truly was becoming quite a pain in his hand. But he would not let the others see his weakness, if possible. Such a dishonor for a warrior of his standing, his self-esteem would not let him show his pain to Amashanae. He sighed. The girl pointed him a house down the street, and rather slowly he started to walk towards its lived. And soon he stood in front of a wooden door almost entirely covered with different amulets and dried herbs – had to be the healer. He lifted his good hand to tap on the door, but the door suddenly creaked open before he touched it.

"Ah, you must be Juara", an old woman stood in the chink of the door. "Please, step in"

"How do ye know my name?" Juara asked in disbelief as the woman pushed the door completely open and entered the house. The old lady turned about but did not answer. She walked to a large fireplace on the far wall, took a few small bits of wood and threw them into the hungry fire. Juara let his gaze wander around the room. It was the only room in this house; a completely open space right up to the roof. There was a fireplace on the back wall and a sturdy rocking chair stood next to it. There was small table in the middle of the room. The rest of the walls were covered with shelves. On those shelves there were what seemed a thousand bottles of liquid potions, herbs as well as materials Juara did not even want to know what they were. There was a pungent scent of a thousand different herbs in the air, and Juara actually needed to squeeze his eyes a little because of the stench.

"Ah, the name, he asked", the old lady uttered suddenly. She sat down on her rocking chair, dug a pipe from the folds of her dress and lighted it up, inhaling a long whiff of smoke.

"Yes, how did ye know my name?" Juara inquired again. "I did not give it even at the inn."

"Old Geyal need no one tell their names" she paused "it is names that tell Geyal"

Juara did not understand but he remembered the innkeeper's warning that the lady might be a more or less insane. "Alright, the names will speak to ye, so be it, but ye see, I have this slight inconvenience here. The innkeeper told me that ye can heal...this." He lifted his bloody rag-covered hand and pointed it to Geyal. The old lady did not say a thing, only inhaled another puff of smoke.

"Well, can ye?" Juara asked.

Geyal inhaled once again slowly let the smoke out. Her eyes gleamed in the light of the fireplace.

"You can show me your pain. Old Geyal cares not about the warrior pride."

"It is a sign of weakness to show pain."

"A man can also be considered weak for not showing his agony."

Juara began to feel irritated, but the pain in his hand only seemed to grow more intense.

"Look, I have lost a finger here. For a warrior it is dishonor enough to have been so wounded...not by blade."

Geyal did not say a thing but tilted her head and kept smoking her pipe. Juara watched her smoke and gave up his pride.

"Alright, alright. I am weak, I have no honor. Will ye please look this hand as I am suffering a serious pain here!"

Geyal slowly got up and came towards Juara. Still speaking nothing she took him by the hand and led him to the table and made him sit down. Then she gently opened the bloody bandages and revealed the wounded hand. There was a ragged, crimson and dark burned stump where his middle finger should have been, and as the leaves the women had hastily medicated it with came off, there began again a slow, pulsating trickle of thick, dark blood. Juara turned his head away. Geyal got up and walked to the wall, selecting two bottles from one of the shelves. The contents of the other she used to wash the clots of blood and herbs off, but the other she gave to Juara.

"Drink it. It will take some of the pain away. Make sure to get some on the bruises on your lips as well."

Quickly Juara opened the bottle and emptied it into his mouth. After a short moment the pain begun to fade away in his hand and ribs. Geyal was busy with his hand. Gently she placed various herbs around the wound and poured some other liquid on it from a vial. Juara did not want to watch her maim his flesh as she picked up a small knife, a needle and some thread, but he could feel how she operated on the skin and closed the edges of the wound, finally wrapping it tight with a clean bandage and begun collecting the bloodied and soiled rags from the table.

"Now, I can not give you back your finger, but you will survive. Evil has not set in the wound. It is all taken care of now and it will completely heal within four weeks. Can you live with that, warrior?" she asked while tossing the dirty rags into the fire.

"Um, yes... I..." Juara coughed, lifting his hand from the table, noticing how most of the pain had gone already. "I mean, I thank thee" he bowed his head. Carefully he touched the bandages. It was still sore, but definitely most of the pain was gone.

"Thank ye..." he said again, collecting his thoughts and paused, "...uh, the innkeeper said that I do not need to pay for..." he began, but was interrupted:

"The payment has already been made. Now tell me..." Geyal started with a thoughtful expression, "...would you kindly ask the elf to pay a visit to me."

Juara stared at the woman, puzzled. "What! How would ye know..." his voice faded. It was probably no use to question Geyal. She might start to babble again about names speaking to her. "Well, I can deliver the message, but she does not really trust anyone. Not me, not..." he paused as Asaryen's face came to his mind. He did not finish the sentence but said affirmatively: "I will tell her." With that he turned about and stepped to the door. As he opened it, he heard Geyal speaking softly behind him.

"Juara. Consider your motives. Do not abuse... her. You may think you are doing this all for wealth and venture, but I know there is more to you."

At the Inn Asaryen and Amashanae were enjoying the inn's hospitality and the people's conviviality. Normally two such girls in such an inn –especially when the other happened to be a strikingly beautiful elf – would have had to endure constant unwelcome passes and innuendo. Probably it would not even have been totally safe for them. But this time things were different. They were heroes and treated as warriors. The innkeeper had ordered his staff to provide them with as much drink and food as they desired. They had been taken to the best table in the inn, and the gigantic doorman brute was posted to stand by them to keep their keenest admirers at bay and make sure they had a chance to enjoy their food. All the villagers in the inn came by to congratulate them on their deed or simply thank them. Asaryen took most of the adoration, and she obediently listened to their praise, nodding her thanks in return. The villagers bowed their heads and some even offered them gifts as tribute; a few coins from one and a beautiful necklace carved in bone from another. There was one woman who especially touched Asaryen's heart, as she came to them tears welling in her eyes, and sobbed her thanks, explaining that not only his dear husband but also both of her sons had vanished in the wraith's territory and were believed to have been killed. Now she could finally rest in peace, as her loss had been avenged. Asaryen's eyes also gleamed with tears as she held the woman's hand and muttered some words of solace back.

After the villagers had all paid their respects and the general jubilation had quieted down somewhat, the pair of travelers they had noticed when they entered the inn approached the women and the knight bowed his head to the women while the young girl addressed them:

"My apologies for intruding your privacy like this, but as it appears you are not of this village as we are neither" – she gestured towards his armoured companion – "we thought we could ask for your permission to join your company as fellow foreigners in these parts? It would be a great honor for us to join the company of such brave travelers as you." Amashanae hesitated but Asaryen waved them down in an approving gesture and the odd pair sat down at the table. The sorceress was wearing a red robe that was pulled tight at the waist with a rope made of twine. She had various bags and vials hanging on that makeshift belt, and all that quite obviously revealed her profession. Yet she did not appear too well-to do in her line, as her cloak was rather old and worn and she wore no jewelry. Her hair was tied up in somewhat homely fashion, and she would have actually looked like a wizard's apprentice rather than a sorceress had she not had such a finely ornamented albeit crumpled garment just visible under her robe.

"Certainly, we're only too happy to make new acquaintances" Asaryen babbled while Amashane was content with nodding her head to the strangers. "Where have you come from, then?"

"Well, as it happens the very reason we both came here was the wraith that was rumored to dwell in the forest here" the girl answered as she slipped on the chair opposite Asaryen. "But let me first introduce myself; I am Elareos, and this Gathor." The knight was clad in semi-armour and a dark cloak which hid his weapons and revealed only his front and a glistening breastplate with a simple but colorful herald painted on it. It was a typical insignia of a rural family, revealing that the knight actually belonged to no court but was a self-proclaimed warrior of sorts instead. He seemed much less eager to join the conversation, but politely nodded his head at the mention of his name.

"And I am Asaryen; my companion here is Amashanae."

"It is a pleasure to get to know you! Yes, we both came from the south – our separate ways, though – but we just met here a few hours past. But do tell me whence you have come from, and how did you manage to dispose of that wraith?" and with that the sorceress easily struck rapport with Asaryen and before long they were immersed in vivid discussion. Gathor kept quiet, as did Amashanae, who had finished eating her stew. She did not drink anything but water but just sat there with an empty bowl in front of her and observed the people in the inn cautiously.

After a short while Juara appeared in the doorway, shook his soaked cloak and then headed straight to their table. He sat down and waved the barkeep for ale without uttering a word, and a waitress quickly brought him a large tankard. Juara took a long gulp of ale and eyed the girls and the warrior dressed like a knight, who eyed him back suspiciously. If Juara had a felt weakness earlier on, it was all gone now and he was back in his element.

"Well, who do we have here", he said after assessing the situation, addressing the sorceress first. "Another poor girl to join the party?" he laughed arrogantly.

"This is Elareos" Asaryen said before the girl had time to answer. "She is a wizard and was after the wraith, which I disposed of, and she joined us because she wanted to know how I did that"

"Well I'm not too sure who disposed of the wraith" Juara muttered under his breath and took another sip of his ale and eyed Amashanae. Asaryen made a face at Juara.

"I am a sorceress, not a wizard", Elareos corrected Asaryen's introduction. "Albeit I am more like an apprentice without a master. I know many a spell, but I...seem to fail to be successful in conjuring. My intent was to face the wraith, but Asaryen here got to it before we had a chance to try ourselves", she continued and nodded towards the knight, who was apparently quite peeved for being treated like thin air by Juara. "And probably she saved my life, from what I hear"

"Hah, just what we needed, a useless sorc...Damned!!" he broke his sentence and yelled out loud as the knight, having had enough of such disrespecting treatment, grabbed his bandaged arm and hissed at his face:

"Warrior, indeed! With no respect for the ladies! Who is this vile man?" he stepped up and faced Juara who hunched over his hand in pain. Juara groped for his sword but Amashanae gave him a mighty kick to his leg and rose to land her hand on the knight's shoulder over the table.

"Let him be. Unfortunate as it might be, he is one of our party and not to be messed with."

The knight gave Juara an angry look but then he simply bowed to the ladies and turned on his heels and out of the inn.

"Hey! What do you think you are?" Asaryen also jumped up from her chair and shouted at Juara, but Elareos gestured her down and said:

"It is all right. I am used to being ridiculed. I can make myself scarce if you want", with the last few words spat at Juara.

Amashanae observed the situation looking slightly amused but also sat down. Asaryen stared at Juara with a hurt look in her eyes.

"Now look. I asked her to join us and you have nothing to say about it. If you do not like it, you can always leave. Why do you have to be so mean?"

"Hey... I like some spiciness, peach", he gave a wink for Asaryen, drank his tankard empty and then turned then to Elareos. "But a im sorry. Where are my manners? I did not understand that ye are a guest of Asaryen here", he said sarcastically. "Please do continue whatever it was you were doing" he blurted and turned his attention to Amashanae.

"Ye know that healer, Geyal...she truly is insane. Although she took my pain away pretty well, it was very strange indeed." He showed his new, clean bandage and winced as he saw a fresh drop of blood penetrate it, and glanced behind him to see if the knight would still be around, cursing under his breath. Then he turned back to Amashanae.

"Oh really", she snapped. "Was the old lady mean to you, poor boy?" she said and laughed.

Juara grinned. "No, my dear elf, but, she did already know my name even if I did not give it to anybody here"

"But what a drag", Amashanae said in a mock-sympathetic voice. "Some poor girl whose night you have sometime ruined had probably warned her".

"Well, I fear to think what ye have done for her to know ye too, but she wanted to see ye too. Asked for you especially as well, she did", Juara said, seemingly glad to break the exchange of wits Amashanae believed he feared he might end up losing. But this was worrying news. Amashanae got very serious and her mouth closed firm. Usually when her name was recognized, it meant problems.

"She asked for me?" she then said in a flat voice.

"Yes. Or, rather, she asked for the elf", Juara emptied his beer and waved his hand in the air to get another one, "I presumed she meant ye."

The elf remained serious.

"Where is she now?"

"It is a couple of houses down from here. Can not miss it", Juara took a long sip from a new tankard that was whisked into his hand. "Ye will recognize her door with ease, a big pile of junk hanging from it... Degran's Gates! This beer is for nothing! Girl!" he shouted towards the bar: "Some peach spirit for me!"

Amashanae gave a look at Asaryen. "I will have to step out for a while. Please take care that Juara would not drink too much. There is a good change that we need to leave with haste", she warned the girl. Then she paused and nodded towards Elareos. "I am sorry for this."

Elareos nodded understandingly, and Amashanae turned and went to the door. When she opened the door she heard how Juara again yelled for more drink, saying that no elf or little girlie will tell him when to stop drinking. Amashanae sighed, hoping that he would not get too drunk and stepped out into the rain.

*****

In the palace of Thraewyns only a lone owl sitting on a beam near the ceiling witnessed Raelia walking a circle on the stony floor of her chamber, gathering her strength. Through the vat of vision Raelia had tracked down the demon she had sent to find out the fate of Strutto and his troops. She could have used spells to teleport there herself, but such magic required much preparation and sending a minion was a much quicker way to do it – not to mention much less exhausting, even though using the vat of vision also put a great strain on her powers. Almost in desperation she had fervently tried to find something in the vision, anything to help her control Firnaraee now that it had been awoken without any proper preparations. The demon had searched the bodies of the defeated goblins and with its unearthly powers had tried to find out what was this faint but very intriguing aura that still lingered there on the site. It had almost faded already but the demon had found its trail. Before she had needed to stop and rest for a while she had also seen the trail had lead straight to the forest. Raelia smiled. There was something – or someone – that she would need. Need desperately, even. She took a deep breath. Enough rest for now; back to the vat and back to the chase.
CHAPTER 10

Amashanae stood at Geyal's door. To her amazement she realized that she was afraid to knock it. What could happen? She thought, trying to push the sudden worry out of her mind. Could this be a trap? She picked up her courage and shook the doubt out of her mind and knocked firmly on the door. But the door slid open beneath her hand as she touched it.

"Please enter, my child", the old lady spoke from the rocking chair, smoking her pipe even while she uttered the words, "Please come in."

Amashanae hesitated but did not move one step.

"What are you afraid of, my child?" the old lady queried with a curious smile. "Old Geyal? No, you do not need to, dear Amashanae. You do not need to."

"How do you know my name?" Amashanae asked, carefully stepping inside and letting the door close behind her. "And how did you know Juara's name?"

"Ah, the great warrior Juara", Geyal laughed and toyed with her pipe. "I bet he called me crazy, he did... but alas, names are irrelevant here now. I knew you would come for old Geyal."

"But...how?" Amashanae begun, but Geyal interrupted her with a wave of hand as she got up from her chair. She approached Amashanae with a smile.

"No questions yet. Please listen to me. You are an important one, Amashanae. Your quest for your origins will be a hard one, but I know that eventually you will succeed... for better or worse. Now show me the amulet?" she beckoned, eyeing Amashanae's cleavage for signs of it.

Amashanae stood still, feeling somewhat dumbstruck. How could anyone know this much about her, when she did not even know herself? And the amulet...could she show it to her, would it be safe?

"I see you hesitate," said Geyal, looking at Amashanae's eyes. "Do not be afraid my child. I am not your enemy." She took Amashanae's hand in hers and continued: "Old Geyal is here to help. Trust me. Please show me the amulet."

Without further resistance Amashanae dug out the amulet, lifted it over her head and gave it to the old woman. Geyal took it carefully and examined it in detail, with a very interested expression on her old, wrinkled face.

"Ahh. Yes. Please sit down" she motioned Amashanae to take a seat.

She studied the object for what seemed a long while, turning it over in her hands and every once in a while she mumbled something, letting her fingers go over every line of the amulet. Then she suddenly asked a question:

"So, you were in troll attack?"

Amashanae, who had not expected such a reaction, just sat and looked at Geyal, astonished. But the old woman just stared at her expectantly, so she had to answer.

"Um, y-yes...Goblins actually." It was a new feeling for Amashanae not to know what to do or say. Geyal stared at her with an expecting smile. "Oh, earlier on? Yes..." Amashanae said. She felt very small sitting there, and old Geyal such a powerful figure. She seemed to be all-knowing. So she just bit her lip and waited. Geyal kept touching the amulet and looking at Amashanae with a curious expression. Then she spoke again.

"Yes, old Geyal knows. Tell me. Have you noticed that there are too many evil things taking place of late. It is raising."

"What is raising?"

Geyal smiled even wider as if Amashanae had just asked the stupidest question ever uttered. Then she turned her eyes back to the amulet and caressed its surface.

"Now where was I... Yes, it is hard enough to seek...self...but all of this..." she kept eyeing the amulet and begun to trot back and forth in the room, speaking as if she were discussing with someone Amashanae could not see. "The elf is a strong one. I do not believe...failure is... She needs to fight against... No, I am not going...to tell..."

Amashanae began to feel really worried about whether she really should have given the amulet to Geyal after all. Perhaps Juara had been right. What is she talking about? She ran her hand across her breast where the amulet had rested. There is no other way out of this room her mind wandered and she let her hand touch her neck, feeling the sword in its scabbard like it should. Just in case. Geyal saw her do that and laughed under her breath and spoke again in what seemed like riddles.

"Amashanae, your sword is not the greatest weapon at your disposal. Ah, well, here! I am done with it!", Geyal suddenly shouted and threw the amulet back to Amashanae.

"What? What weapon?"

"Hush. Just watch those hands, child." She paused and eyed the puzzled elf. "Alright. I shall grant you one question now."

"Who am I?", the elf blurted out surprising even herself as she slipped the amulet back over her neck, eyes never leaving the old woman.

"Alas, you've asked the one question I can yet give no answer to. But I can give you this." Geyal brought out a bottle from her pocket and offered it to Amashanae. "You seek your past. If you drink this, it may help. It may not. It may even harm you. It may open a door to the deepest abyss of your soul. It may not tell you anything, or it might tell you too much. It is your choice to take it, or not, but alas, if you take it, you'll fall into a deep sleep for a day or two and your mind will be open to danger."

Amashanae took the potion, saw that it was well closed but unremarkable in appearance, and put it in her pocket.

"Thank you Geyal. There is so much I want to ask –"

"Be careful my child", old Geyal interrupted and waved her hand in front of her. Amashanae closed her eyes and felt a breeze across her brow. When she opened her eyes again, she was not in the house anymore, but standing on the street, right in front of the inn. Her hands instinctly slipped to her sword and the amulet as her eyes seeked confirmation on her whereabouts. Everything was in order. Fool! The voice whispered, laden with frustration. Amashanae realized that somehow the voice had been forced quiet during her visit in Geyal's house; something told her it would have wanted to speak out but had not been able. She did her best to ignore it and turned back to looke at Old Geyal's house. That was strange, she thought. But the bottle! She quickly rammed her hand in her pocket. The bottle was safe, tightly sealed. So it had actually happened. She shook her head. For a moment she thought she wanted to drink the potion right then and there, but then she remembered the warning the old woman had given. Better safe than sorry. How did she know...what had she meant? What had all the mumbling about fighting 'her' been about? She just gave me more riddles, Amashanae thought. It is best I tell no one about this, she pondered, and stepped back into the inn.

After Amashanae left, Geyal turned around and closed her eyes. A sudden blue ardor lightened up the room and a majestic figure appeared standing in front of her as she opened her eyelids.

"Do you think she will succeed?" Geyal asked. "Shall the realms be granted salvation?" The figure laid its weightless, translucent palm on Geyal's shoulder and answered in a gentle voice:

"No. This world will be crushed, as it was written, but the extent of it all... the paths are still open. But there is little hope." and with that, the figure vanished with a gust of wind, leaving Geyal standing and staring at the now open door from which a cold wind reached at her feet. She shuddered and closed the door.

"Go with grace..." she muttered and returned to her chores.

In the inn the mood had escalated into a very merry spectacle indeed. There seemed to be dancing, singing and drunken people everywhere and music was pouring out of the numerous instruments the locals played with skill. It seemed that Juara had already consumed plenty of beverages, and he was sitting at a table, making Asaryen, Elareos and a few locals laugh with his antics and stories. He bellowed out in a loud voice, no doubt exaggerating and embellishing his adventures with imagination. Asaryen, who Amashanae suspected had never really drunk much alcohol, was also quite joyous, giggling and laughing as if having a seizure as Juara went on with his stories. But all this meant little to Amashanae. She only wanted to get some rest, sort out the information she had now amassed. Think. She approached the innkeeper without paying attention to the partying bunch.

"Innkeeper! My dear man, do you have a room to let? I fear there is little I can offer for compensation, but..."

"Ah, never mind the money. Tonight it's on the house", he said, producing a key from somewhere as if by magic. "The door next to the kitchen, down the hallway. Yours is the last one on the left. The best we have!" he laughed. "Can I offer you anything else? Peach drink?", and then she lowered his voice and spoke almost to Amashanae's ear: "male company?" To her amazement Amashanae felt her face blush.

"Eh, no...thank you", she stuttered. "I think I will just lie down."

She promptly turned on her heels and left the counter and the innkeeper, found the corridor and the room designated for her. It was rather a small one, but at least the din of the inn was well muffled here. There was a wide bed with a straw mattress that seemed very soft, and a stool next to the bed. There was a multicolored, strange looking rug on the floor. No windows, which seemed a little curious. Amashanae quickly assured herself that the room was safe and stepped in, closing the door behind her. She undressed the harness with the sword, flexed her back and sat on the bed, setting the scabbard against the bed and the stool so that it would be within easy reach if need be. Then she emptied her pockets at the end of the bed. The bottle. She picked it up, staring at its featureless surface, thinking fervently but it seemed that thoughts escaped her mind all too easily and she could not concentrate. She let her body drop on the bed, still holding on to the bottle and found the amulet with her other hand. The noise from the party continued, but it did not bother her. They will do fine without me, she thought, closing her eyes. "Tahlthar", she whispered. And then she fell asleep.

In the common room Juara was getting quite drunk. He had downed several tankards of beer and almost a half bottle of peach spirit. Lustily, if faltering, he sang battle songs with other drunken men and staggered around the room, jestering with girls whenever he got a chance. The innkeeper had made sure the drinks never stopped flowing. Even if Juara's condition was dubious it was nothing compared to Asaryen's who swayed at the table, almost passed out.

"Thrs ah gilr... girl who chan't stand peachhspirit" Juara laughed as he looked at Asaryen. "And thrs agirl who, um, can!" he announced and looked at Elareos who had kept off the drinks almost completely. He took a step closer to her, doing his best to keep his footing steady. Then he tried to land a huge kiss on her cheek, which to his surprise suddenly seemed way too distant to reach. Juara banged his head into a support beam next to the table and fell down on the floor. Roars of laugh overcame the whole inn at the spectacle and Juara joined in the laugh. He managed to get back on his feet and shouted triumphantly:

"Anot...her round of dring..ks forr me!" And with that, he threw up on the floor.

*****

Far away in the dark palace the surface of water rippled. Raelia watched how the ripples revealed a crowded inn and people in it and smiled. This was what she was looking for. But how could this obnoxious drunken lot of wormbags be important? Why had the demon lead her here? She closed her eyes for a while, gathering strength, and swept her palm over the water. The water rippled again and the inn vanished. But a new image began to manifest. A dark room? As she strained her eyes she realized it was a sleeping figure...an elf! Raelia's eyes fell wide open and she froze for a moment in amazement. Suddenly she realized what the Decamod had tried to tell her. She smiled, wider and wider, until she burst into laughter.

"Of course!" she exclaimed as she rushed out of the chamber to find Il'sharat. Behind her the image of the sleeping elf begun to fade away as the water settled.

A tree. The only thing she could recognize for a long while after awakening was a tree looming above her. A quiet breath of wind whispered amidst the branches. For a passing moment the breeze gently touched down and caressed her skin, dabbed her hair and wrote unspoken poems for her mind. Slowly she sat up. She felt as if a long dream had ended... The wind begun to sing a new verse in her mind, but she finally opened her eyes. What is this place? Who am I? These few conscious thoughts seemed to evade her although she tried very hard to concentrate. Rambling thoughts kept pouring in while her mind begun to wake up.

She gazed around and examined the forest surrounding her, dimly lit by an unseen source behind the canopy of trees. It all seemed very normal, yet there was something in the air. It felt like there had been a presence, something very powerful here, just a short while ago. She stood up and put her palms against her body, not so much in defense but simply to feel her tangible self. Then she lifted her arms and closed her eyes as she pressed her hands into her hair and concentrated. But she felt only darkness...

As if involuntarily her hands started to travel down her neck again and she felt there was a sword strapped on her back. "Tahlthar", her lips suddenly uttered and she felt a little agitated. Her hands continued to slide down her bosom until they touched an amulet hanging from her neck. That roused odd feelings in her mind - feelings she could not quite understand. The amulet beckoned her. It was as if it wanted to tell her something, something she failed to comprehend, could not decipher the message it tried to convey. She trembled and tried to focus in it, but still there was nothing to be gained...

Her hands continued down, trance-like, over her waistline and reached her legs. She crouched while her hands reached her ankles, and that was her posture when she suddenly remembered. Her eyes burst open and the word she then whispered echoed in the forest for a long time after she had moved on; "Amashanae!"
